CHAPTER XX
THE BOY PEDDLER
"What are we to do?" asked Amy, in dismay.
"We can't leave her here," added Mollie, and at the word "leave" thechild broke into a fresh burst of tears.
"I'se losted!" she sobbed. "I don't got no home! I tan't find muvver!Don't go 'way!"
"Bless your heart, we won't," consoled Betty, still smoothing the tousledhair. "We'll take you home. Which way do you live?"
"Dat way," answered the child, pointing in the direction from which thegirls had come.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Grace. "Have we got to go all the way back again?"
"Me live dere too!" exclaimed the lost child, indicating with one chubbyfinger the other direction.
"Gracious! Can she live in two places at once?" cried Mollie."What a child!"
"She can't mean that," said Betty. "Probably she is confused, anddoesn't know what she is saying."
"Me do know!" came from the tot, positively. She had stopped sobbing now,and appeared interested in the girls. "Mamma Carrie live dat way, mammaMary live dat way," and in quick succession she pointed first in onedirection and then the other.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Amy. "It's getting worse and worse!"
"You can't have two mammas, you know," said Betty, gently. "Try and tellus right dearie, and we'll take you home."
"I dot two mammas," announced the child, positively. "Mamma Carrie livedown there, mamma Mary live off there. I be at mamma Carrie's house, andI turn back, den I get losted. Take me home!"
She seemed on the verge of tears again.
"Here!" exclaimed Grace, in desperation. "Have a candy--do--two of them.But don't cry. She reminds me of the twins," she added, with just thesuspicion of moisture in her own eyes. The lost child gravely acceptedtwo chocolates, one in each hand, and at once proceeded to get about asmuch on the outside of her face as went in her mouth. She seemed morecontent now.
"I can't understand it," sighed Mollie. "Two mothers! Who ever heard ofsuch a thing?"
"Me got two muvvers," said the child, calmly, as she took a bite first ofthe chocolate in her left hand, and then a nibble from the one in theright. "One live dat way--one live udder way."
"What can she be driving at?" asked Amy.
"There must be some explanation," said Betty, as she got up from thestump on which she had been sitting, and placed the child on the ground."We'll take her a little distance on the way we are going," she went on."Perhaps we may meet someone looking for her."
"And we can't delay too long," added Mollie. "It will soon be suppertime, and my aunt, where we are going to stay to-night, is quite afusser. I sent her a card, saying we'd be there, and if we don't arriveshe may call up our houses on the telephone, and imagine that all sortsof accidents have befallen us."
"But we can't leave her all alone on the road," spoke Betty, indicatingthe child.
"Don't 'eeve me!" pleaded the lost tot. "Me want one of my muvvers!"
"It's getting worse and worse," sighed Mollie, wanting to laugh, but notdaring to.
Slowly the girls proceeded in the direction they had been going. Theyhoped they might meet someone who either would be looking for the child,or else a traveler who could direct them properly to her house, or whomight even assume charge of the little one. For it was getting late andthe girls did not feel like spending the night in some strange place. Itwas practically out of the question.
They were going along, Betty holding one of the child's hands, theother small fist tightly clutching some sticky chocolates, when a turnof the road brought the outdoor girls in sight of a lad who was seatedon a roadside rock, tying a couple of rags around his left foot, whichwas bleeding.
Beside the boy, on the ground, was a pack such as country peddlers oftencarry. The lad seemed in pain, for as the girls approached, theirfootfalls deadened by the soft dust of the road, they heard him murmur:
"Ouch! That sure does hurt! It's a bad cut, all right, and I don't see,Jimmie Martin, how you're going to do much walking! Why couldn't you lookwhere you were going, and not step on that piece of glass?"
He seemed to be finding fault with himself.
"Gracious!" exclaimed Mollie. "I hope this isn't another lost one. Weseem to be getting the habit."
"He appears able to look after himself," said Amy.
The boy heard their voices and looked up quickly. Then, after a glance atthem, he went on binding up his foot. But at the sight of him the littlegirl cried:
"Oh, it's Dimmie! Dat's my Dimmie! He take me to my two muvvers!" Shebroke away from Betty and ran toward the boy peddler.
"Why, it's Nellie Burton!" the lad exclaimed. "Whatever are youdoing here?"
"I'se losted!" announced the child, as though it was the greatest fun inthe world. "I'se losted, and dey found me, but dey don't know where mytwo muvvers is. 'Oo take me home, Dimmie."
"Of course I will, Nellie. That is, if I can walk."
"Did oo hurt oo's foot?"
"Yes, Nellie. I stepped on a piece of glass, and it went right through myshoe. But it's stopped bleeding now."
"Do you know this little girl?" asked Betty. "We found her down the road,but she can't seem to tell us where she lives. First she points in onedirection and then the other, and--"
"And we can't understand about her two mothers," broke in Mollie. "Do,please, if you can, straighten it out. Do you know her?"
"Yes, ma'am," answered the boy peddler, and his voice was pleasant. Hetook off a rather ragged cap politely, and stood up on one foot, restingthe cut one on the rock. "She's Nellie Burton, and she lives about amile down that way," and he pointed in the direction from which thegirls had come.
"I live dere sometimes," spoke the child, "and sometimes down dere," andshe indicated two directions. "I dot two muvvers."
"What in the world does she mean?" asked Mollie, hopelessly.
"That's what she always says," spoke the boy. "She calls one of her auntsher mamma--it's her mother's sister, you see. She lives about a mile fromNellie's house, and Nellie spends about as much time at one place as shedoes at the other. She always says she has two mothers."
"I _has_" announced the child, calmly, accepting another chocolatefrom Grace.
"And you know Nellie?" asked Betty, pointedly.
"Yes," said the boy. "You see, I work through this part of the country. Ipeddle writing paper, pens, pins, needles and notions," he added,motioning to his pack. "I often stop at Nellie's house, and at heraunt's, too. They're my regular customers," he added, proudly, and witha proper regard for his humble calling.
"I'm doing pretty well, too," he went on. "I've got a good trade, and I'mthinking of adding to it. I'll take little Nellie back home for you," heoffered. "I'm going that way. Sometimes, when I'm late, as I am to-day,her mother keeps me over night."
"That's nice," said Betty. "We really didn't know what to do with her,and we ought to be in Flatbush at my friend's aunt's house," and sheindicated Mollie. "Will you go with your little friend?" Betty asked ofthe child.
"Me go wif Dimmie," was the answer, confidently given. "Dimmie knowwhere I live."
"But can you walk?" asked Amy, as they all noticed that the boy's footwas quite badly cut.
"Oh, I guess I can limp, if I can't walk," he said, bravely. "If Ihad a bandage I might tie it up so I could put on my shoe. Then I'dbe all right."
"Let me fix it," exclaimed Betty, impulsively. "I know something aboutbandaging, and we have some cloth and ointment with us. I'll bandage upyour foot."
"Oh, I couldn't think of troubling you!" he protested. "I--I guess Ican do it," but he winced with pain as he accidentally hit his foot onthe stone.
"Now you just let me do it!" insisted the Little Captain. "You reallymust, and you will have to walk to take Nellie home. That will besomething off our minds."
"Maybe we can get a lift," suggested the boy. "Often the farmers let meride with them. There may be one along soon."
"Let us hope so--for your sake as well as Nellie's," spoke Grac
e. "It'sreally kind of you, and quite providential that we met you."
"Yes, ma'am," replied the boy, looking from one pretty girl to the other."I'll take care of Nellie. I've known her for some time, you see. Ipeddle around here a lot. My father's dead, I haven't got any relativesexcept a sick aunt that I go to see once in a while, and I'm in businessfor myself."
"You are quite a little soldier," complimented Betty, as she got out thebandages and salve. "You are very brave."
"Oh, I haven't got any kick coming," he answered, with a laugh. "Ofcourse, this cut foot will make me travel slow for a while, and I can'tget to all my customers on time. But I guess they'll save their trade forme--the regulars will.
"I might be worse off," the lad continued, after a pause. "I might be inas bad a hole as that fellow I saw on the train not long ago."
"How was that?" asked Betty, more for the sake of saying somethingrather than because she was interested. The boy himself had carefullywashed out the cut at a roadside spring, and as it was clean, the girlapplied the salve and was; skillfully wrapping the bandage around thewound. "What man was that?" she added.
"Why," said the boy, "I had a long jump to make from one town to another,and, as there weren't any customers between, I rode in the train. Theonly other passenger in our car was a young fellow, asleep. All of asudden he woke up in his seat, and begun hunting all through his pockets.First I thought he had lost his ticket, for he kept hollerin', 'It'sgone! I've lost it! My last hope!' and all things like that. I was goin'to ask him what it was, when he shouted, 'My five hundred dollar bill isgone! and out of the car he ran, hoppin' off the train, which wasslowin' up at a station. That was tough luck, losin' five hundreddollars. Of course I couldn't do it, for I never had it," the boy added,philosophically, as he watched Betty adjusting the bandage.