CHAPTER III
BEN
"Please, 'm, my name is Ben Brown, and I'm travellin'."
"Where are you going?"
"Anywheres to get work."
"What sort of work can you do?"
"All kinds. I'm used to horses."
"Bless me! such a little chap as you?
"I'm twelve, ma'am, and can ride any thing on four legs;" and the smallboy gave a nod that seemed to say, "Bring on your Cruisers. I'm readyfor 'em."
"Haven't you got any folks?" asked Mrs. Moss, amused but still anxious,for the sunburnt face was very thin, the eyes hollow with hunger orpain, and the ragged figure leaned on the wheel as if too weak or wearyto stand alone.
"No, 'm, not of my own; and the people I was left with beat me so, I--runaway." The last words seemed to bolt out against his will as if thewoman's sympathy irresistibly won the child's confidence.
"Then I don't blame you. But how did you get here?"
"I was so tired I couldn't go any further, and I thought the folks uphere at the big house would take me in. But the gate was locked, and Iwas so discouraged, I jest laid down outside and give up."
"Poor little soul, I don't wonder," said Mrs. Moss, while the childrenlooked deeply interested at mention of their gate.
The boy drew a long breath, and his eyes began to twinkle in spite ofhis forlorn state as he went on, while the dog pricked up his ears atmention of his name:--
"While I was restin' I heard some one come along inside, and I peeked,and saw them little girls playin'. The vittles looked so nice I couldn'thelp wantin' 'em; but I didn't take nothin',--it was Sancho, and hetook the cake for me."
Bab and Betty gave a gasp and stared reproachfully at the poodle, whohalf closed his eyes with a meek, unconscious look that was very droll.
"And you made him put it back?" cried Bab.
"No; I did it myself. Got over the gate when you was racin' afterSancho, and then clim' up on the porch and hid," said the boy with agrin.
"And you laughed?" asked Bab.
"Yes."
"And sneezed?" added Betty.
"Yes."
"And threw down the roses?" cried both.
"Yes; and you liked 'em, didn't you?"
"Course we did! What made you hide?" said Bab.
"I wasn't fit to be seen," muttered Ben, glancing at his tatters as ifhe'd like to dive out of sight into the dark coach again.
"How came you here?" demanded Mrs. Moss, suddenly remembering herresponsibility.
"I heard 'em talk about a little winder and a shed, and when they'd goneI found it and come in. The glass was broke, and I only pulled the nailout. I haven't done a mite of harm sleepin' here two nights. I was sotuckered out I couldn't go on nohow, though I tried a Sunday."
"And came back again?
"Yes, 'm; it was so lonesome in the rain, and this place seemed kinderlike home, and I could hear 'em talkin' outside, and Sanch he foundvittles, and I was pretty comfortable."
"Well, I never!" ejaculated Mrs. Moss, whisking up a corner of her apronto wipe her eyes, for the thought of the poor little fellow alone therefor two days and nights with no bed but musty straw, no food but thescraps a dog brought him, was too much for her. "Do you know what I'mgoing to do with you?" she asked, trying to look calm and cool, with agreat tear running down her wholesome red cheek, and a smile trying tobreak out at the corners of her lips.
"No, ma'am, and I dunno as I care. Only don't be hard on Sanch; he'sbeen real good to me, and we 're fond of one another; ain't us, oldchap?" answered the boy, with his arm around the dog's neck, and ananxious look which he had not worn for himself.
"I'm going to take you right home, and wash and feed and put you in agood bed; and to-morrow,--well, we'll see what'll happen then," saidMrs. Moss, not quite sure about it herself.
"You're very kind, ma'am, I'll be glad to work for you. Ain't you got ahorse I can see to?" asked the boy, eagerly.
"Nothing but hens and a cat."
Bab and Betty burst out laughing when their mother said that, and Bengave a faint giggle, as if he would like to join in if he only had thestrength to do it. But his legs shook under him, and he felt a queerdizziness; so he could only hold on to Sancho, and blink at the lightlike a young owl.
"Come right along, child. Run on, girls, and put the rest of the brothto warming, and fill the kettle. I'll see to the boy," commanded Mrs.Moss, waving off the children, and going up to feel the pulse of her newcharge, for it suddenly occurred to her that he might be sick and notsafe to take home.
The hand he gave her was very thin, but clean and cool, and the blackeyes were clear though hollow, for the poor lad was half-starved.
"I'm awful shabby, but I ain't dirty. I had a washin' in the rain lastnight, and I've jest about lived on water lately," he explained,wondering why she looked at him so hard.
"Put out your tongue."
He did so, but took it in again to say quickly,--
"I ain't sick,--I'm only hungry; for I haven't had a mite but whatSanch brought, for three days; and I always go halves, don't I, Sanch?"
The poodle gave a shrill bark, and vibrated excitedly between the doorand his master as if he understood all that was going on, andrecommended a speedy march toward the promised food and shelter. Mrs.Moss took the hint, and bade the boy follow her at once and bring his"things" with him.
"I ain't got any. Some big fellers took away my bundle, else I wouldn'tlook so bad. There's only this. I'm sorry Sanch took it, and I'd like togive it back if I knew whose it was," said Ben, bringing the newdinner-pail out from the depths of the coach where he had gone tohousekeeping.
"That's soon done; it's mine, and you're welcome to the bits your queerdog ran off with. Come along, I must lock up," and Mrs. Moss clanked herkeys suggestively.
Ben limped out, leaning on a broken hoe-handle, for he was stiff aftertwo days in such damp lodgings, as well as worn out with a fortnight'swandering through sun and rain. Sancho was in great spirits, evidentlyfeeling that their woes were over and his foraging expeditions at anend, for he frisked about his master with yelps of pleasure, or madeplayful darts at the ankles of his benefactress, which caused her tocry, "Whish!" and "Scat!" and shake her skirts at him as if he were acat or hen.
A hot fire was roaring in the stove under the broth-skillet andtea-kettle, and Betty was poking in more wood, with a great smirch ofblack on her chubby cheek, while Bab was cutting away at the loaf as ifbent on slicing her own fingers off. Before Ben knew what he was about,he found himself in the old rocking-chair devouring bread and butter asonly a hungry boy can, with Sancho close by gnawing a mutton-bone like aravenous wolf in sheep's clothing.
While the new-comers were thus happily employed, Mrs. Moss beckoned thelittle girls out of the room, and gave them both an errand.
"Bab, you run over to Mrs. Barton's, and ask her for any old duds Billydon't want; and Betty, you go to the Cutters, and tell Miss Clarindy I'dlike a couple of the shirts we made at last sewing circle. Any shoes, ora hat, or socks, would come handy, for the poor dear hasn't a wholethread on him."
Away went the children full of anxiety to clothe their beggar; and sowell did they plead his cause with the good neighbors, that Ben hardlyknew himself when he emerged from the back bedroom half an hour later,clothed in Billy Barton's faded flannel suit, with an unbleached cottonshirt out of the Dorcas basket, and a pair of Milly Cutter's old shoeson his feet.
Sancho also had been put in better trim, for, after his master hadrefreshed himself with a warm bath, he gave his dog a good scrub whileMrs. Moss set a stitch here and there in the new old clothes; and Sanchoreappeared, looking more like the china poodle than ever, being as whiteas snow, his curls well brushed up, and his tasselly tail waving proudlyover his back.
Feeling eminently respectable and comfortable, the wanderers humblypresented themselves, and were greeted with smiles of approval from thelittle girls and a hospitable welcome from the mother, who set them nearthe stove to dry, as
both were decidedly damp after their ablutions.
"I declare I shouldn't have known you!" exclaimed the good woman,surveying the boy with great satisfaction; for, though still very thinand tired, the lad had a tidy look that pleased her, and a lively way ofmoving about in his clothes, like an eel in a skin rather too big forhim. The merry black eyes seemed to see every thing, the voice had anhonest sound, and the sunburnt face looked several years younger sincethe unnatural despondency had gone out of it.
"It's very nice, and me and Sanch are lots obliged, ma'am," murmuredBen, getting red and bashful under the three pairs of friendly eyesfixed upon him.
Bab and Betty were doing up the tea-things with unusual despatch, sothat they might entertain their guest, and just as Ben spoke Bab droppeda cup. To her great surprise no smash followed, for, bending quickly,the boy caught it as it fell, and presented it to her on the back of hishand with a little bow.
"Gracious! how could you do it?" asked Bab, looking as if she thoughtthere was magic about.
"That's nothing; look here," and, taking two plates, Ben sent themspinning up into the air, catching and throwing so rapidly that Bab andBetty stood with their mouths open, as if to swallow the plates shouldthey fall, while Mrs. Moss, with her dish-cloth suspended, watched theantics of her crockery with a housewife's anxiety.
"That does beat all!" was the only exclamation she had time to make;for, as if desirous of showing his gratitude in the only way he could,Ben took clothes-pins from a basket near by, sent several saucerstwirling up, caught them on the pins, balanced the pins on chin, nose,forehead, and went walking about with a new and peculiar sort oftoadstool ornamenting his countenance.
The children were immensely tickled, and Mrs. Moss was so amused shewould have lent her best soup-tureen if he had expressed a wish for it.But Ben was too tired to show all his accomplishments at once, and hesoon stopped, looking as if he almost regretted having betrayed that hepossessed any.
"I guess you've been in the juggling business," said Mrs. Moss, with awise nod, for she saw the same look on his face as when he said his namewas Ben Brown,--the look of one who was not telling the whole truth.
"Yes, 'm. I used to help Senor Pedro, the Wizard of the World, and Ilearned some of his tricks," stammered Ben, trying to seem innocent.
"Now, look here, boy, you'd better tell me the whole story, and tell ittrue, or I shall have to send you up to judge Morris. I wouldn't like todo that, for he is a harsh sort of a man; so, if you haven't done anything bad, you needn't be afraid to speak out, and I'll do what I canfor you," said Mrs. Moss, rather sternly, as she went and sat down inher rocking-chair, as if about to open the court.
"I haven't done any thing bad, and I ain't afraid, only I don't want togo back; and if I tell, may be you'll let 'em know where I be," saidBen, much distressed between his longing to confide in his new friendand his fear of his old enemies.
"If they abused you, of course I wouldn't. Tell the truth, and I'llstand by you. Girls, you go for the milk."
"Oh, Ma, do let us stay! We'll never tell, truly, truly!" cried Bab andBetty, full of dismay being sent off when secrets were about to bedivulged.
"I don't mind 'em," said Ben handsomely.
"Very well, only hold your tongues. Now, boy where did you come from?"said Mrs. Moss, as the little girls hastily sat down together on theirprivate and particular bench opposite their mother, brimming withcuriosity and beaming with satisfaction at the prospect before them.