It was physically1 impossible for Miles Harding to carry Rex very far without stopping to rest. The life of a tramp, with insufficient2 nourishment3, was not calculated to strengthen the long arms which could easily wrap themselves about the other boy, but had little power to retain him in their embrace.
But Miles fought to do his best. He only consented to stop and deposit his burden on the grass when he felt that, did he not do so, he would be compelled to drop it.
Then, after resting a moment or two, he would be off again.
"Don't; you will strain yourself," Rex whispered once, protestingly.
But Miles's only answer was, "I must. You can't be out here in the storm."
In this way they progressed until they had nearly reached the house. Then the rain began to come down in torrents4.
Miles made a last desperate effort. Picking Rex up, he ran the intervening distance, although it was twice as far as he usually bore his burden without stopping.
He dashed in at the gate and then, so exhausted5 was he that he sank down beside Rex when he deposited the latter on the floor of the piazza6. He lay there breathing hard, while the rain came down in sheets.
He had not even strength to turn his head when he heard the screen door behind him open and some one come out.
"Who-- who are you and what do you want?"
The question was put by a very sweet girlish voice. And the girl who put it was herself exceedingly pretty.
She had opened the door that led out from the wide, breezy hall, and stepped upon the piazza. She now looked down upon the two boys lying there with undisguised astonishment7.
Then she came around so that Miles could see her.
"I beg your pardon, miss," he said, stopping between every three or four words to take breath; "I wanted to get-- him out of the-- rain. This was the nearest-- house. I hope you don't mind."
"Is he ill?" she asked.
Rex's face was turned partly towards her. It was very pale now, but Florence Raynor was thinking also how very handsome it was and in what contrast to that of the fellow who had answered her.
"Yes, he's very sick, I'm afraid," replied Miles.
"Is he your brother?" went on Florence.
"Oh, no; just-- a friend."
Miles hesitated before he added the last word; then when he had said it a look of pride came into his eyes for an instant.
"I'll call mother," said the girl, and she hurried off to the kitchen, where Mrs. Raynor was making cake.
"Oh, mama," she exclaimed, "the noise I heard was two tramps who had come in on our piazza out of the rain. At least one of them is a tramp, and the other is the nicest looking boy, about the age of our Bert. He's sick and just as pale! But he's dressed very well, and I can't understand how they came to be together. Won't you come out and see them, please?"
Mrs. Raynor scraped the dough8 from her lingers and followed her daughter to the front porch. Miles had gone over to take Rex's head on his knee and was softly stroking the hair back from the damp forehead.
"Oh, yes; the poor fellow is very ill," Mrs. Raynor exclaimed as soon as she saw him.
She scarcely gave a glance at Miles. She stood for one instant as if thinking deeply. Then with a resolved tone, she turned to Harding.
"Can you help me get him up stairs and in bed?" she asked.
"I guess so, ma'am," Miles replied. "I've got my breath back now. I have to carry him, you know. You're awfully9 good to take him in this way."
"One must be terribly hard hearted to turn away one in his condition. Come."
Between them they lifted Rex and bore him into the house and up the broad, easy stairs to a little room at the head of them.
"We must get these wet clothes off at once," said Mrs. Raynor, and Miles stayed there to help her.
They put him to bed, and then the good lady declared that they ought to have a doctor.
"Let me go for one," Miles exclaimed. "I want to do something for him."
Mrs. Raynor, now that Rex no longer absorbed her entire attention, turned her gaze on his companion. Miles colored beneath it.
"Perhaps you don't think I'm fit to go?" he said slowly.
It was Mrs. Raynor's turn to color now. She saw that this fellow, so shabbily dressed, was of very sensitive nature. A happy way of turning the thing off occurred to her.
"You are wet, too," she said. "And it is raining still. I will have the man from the barn go."
She hurried off down stairs to call him. Miles lingered, looking toward the bed, where lay the fellow who had attracted him so strongly.
"I s'pose they don't want me hanging around here any longer," he mused10. "They can do everything for him there is to be done. But I don't want to leave him."
Miles Harding's nature was a singular one for a boy brought up as he had been. Thrown upon his own resources when he was hardly more than twelve, he had received some pretty hard knocks from the world. But the hardness of these had not cultivated, a like hardness in him whom they struck.
His temperament11 had always been a sympathetic one. He had many times received harsh treatment that would never have come to him, by seeking to protect some persecuted12 cat or dog.
Thus far the recipient13 of his kindly14 ministrations had always been some dumb animal. Now that the opportunity had offered to extend these to a human being, Miles was loath15 to put it aside.
"What a nice fellow he is!" he murmured. "I wonder where he belongs!"
Just then Florence came to the door. The thought instantly flashed into Miles's brain that she had been sent there to see that he did not steal anything.
But he was accustomed to being the object of such suspicions. And yet, somehow, the idea that he should be, hurt him more than usual on the present occasion.
"My mother would like to see you down stairs," said Florence. "I will stay here with him."
Miles went down and found Mrs. Raynor at the foot of the stairway.
"It has just occurred to me," she said, "that you may think it best to send to the home of this young man. Who is he?"
A troubled look came over Miles's face. He feared that what he was about to say would settle the matter once for all about his being allowed to stay with the fellow up stairs. But he had to tell the truth.
"I don't know his name," he answered. "I fell in with him on the road. But I'd so much like to do something for him. You are sure there is nothing I can do?"
"You have already done a great deal for him," returned Mrs. Raynor, "if, as I understand, you carried him in here out of the rain. And you haven't any idea where he belongs?"
"No, I saw him lying on the grass as I was walking along the road. I was going to Trenton to try and get a job in the potteries16 there. But I'd like to find out how he gets along."
"You shall. Sit down on the porch here while I take your coat in and hang it by the stove to dry. I'll send Tim for the doctor at once."
When Mrs. Raynor returned up stairs a little later, Florence met her at the door of her brother's room, where Rex had been carried, Bert being away at boarding school.
"He's very sick, don't you think, mama?" she asked.
"I'm afraid so, my dear. I want to do all I can for him. I can't help thinking how grateful I should be to have any one do as much for our Bert."
"And see what nice clothes he wears," went on Florence in the same whispering tone. "How do you suppose he ever got into association with that fellow down stairs?"
"Hush17, dear, "cautioned her mother. "Behind those poor clothes is a very warm heart."
"But is he going to stay, too?" went on Florence.
"He wants to. Perhaps we can find something for him to do about the garden."
"Do you think he's honest, though?"
"We must run our chances on that. He is certainly very different from most fellows of his appearance."
The doctor arrived inside of an hour. He made an examination and then reported that Rex was in for a bad case of intermittent18 fever.
"He may not be able to be moved for six weeks," he added.
And Rex knew nothing of it, but began to toss in the delirium19 of his fever, living over again some of the bitter experiences of the past few hours.
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1
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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4
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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8
dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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9
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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potteries
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| n.陶器( pottery的名词复数 )；陶器厂；陶土；陶器制造（术） | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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