Chapter 1 A Mysterious Dog
 　　The elm-tree avenue was all overgrown, the great gatewas never unlocked, and the old house had been shut upfor several years.
 
　　Yet voices were heard about the place, the lilacsnodded over the high wall as if they said," Wecould tell fine secrets if we chose," and the mulleinoutside the gate made haste to reach the keyhole,that it might peep in and see what was going on.
 
　　If it had suddenly grown up like a magic bean-stalk, and looked in on a certain June day, it wouldhave seen a droll but pleasant sight, for somebodyevidently was going to have a party.
 
　　From the gate to the porch went a wide walk,paved with smooth slabs of dark stone, and borderedwith the tall bushes which met overhead, making agreen roof. All sorts of neglected flowers and wildweeds grew between their stems, covering the wallsof this summer parlor with the prettiest tapestry.
 
　　A board, propped on two blocks of wood, stood inthe middle of the walk, covered with a little plaidshawl much the worse for wear, and on it a miniaturetea-service was set forth with great elegance. To besure, the tea-pot had lost its spout, the cream-jug itshandle, the sugar-bowl its cover, and the cups andplates were all more or less cracked or nicked; butpolite persons would not take notice of these triflingdeficiencies, and none but polite persons were invitedto this party.
 
　　On either side of the porch was a seat, and herea somewhat remarkable sight would have been revealed toany inquisitive eye peering through theaforesaid keyhole. Upon the left-hand seat lay sevendolls, upon the right-hand seat lay six; and so variedwere the expressions of their countenances, owingto fractures, dirt, age, and other afflictions, that onewould very naturally have thought this a doll's hospital, andthese the patients waiting for their tea.
 
　　This, however, would have been a sad mistake; forif the wind had lifted the coverings laid over them,it would have disclosed the fact that all were in fulldress, and merely reposing before the feast shouldbegin.
 
　　There was another interesting feature of the scenewhich would have puzzled any but those well acquaintedwith the manners and customs of dolls.
 
　　A fourteenth rag baby, with a china head, hung byher neck from the rusty knocker in the middle ofthe door. A sprig of white and one of purple lilacnodded over her, a dress of yellow calico, richlytrimmed with red-flannel scallops, shrouded her slenderform, a garland of small flowers crowned herglossy curls, and a pair of blue boots touched toesin the friendliest, if not the most graceful, manner.
 
　　An emotion of grief, as well as of surprise, mightwell have thrilled any youthful breast at such aspectacle; for why, oh! why, was this resplendentdolly hung up there to be stared at by thirteen of herkindred? Was she a criminal, the sight of whose executionthrew them flat upon their backs in speechless horror?
 
　　Or was she an idol, to be adored inthat humble posture? Neither, my friends. She wasblonde Belinda, set, or rather hung, aloft, in the placeof honor, for this was her seventh birthday, and asuperb ball was about to celebrate the great event.
 
　　All were evidently awaiting a summons to thefestive board; but such was the perfect breeding ofthese dolls, that not a single eye out of the wholetwenty-seven (Dutch Hans had lost one of the blackbeads from his worsted countenance) turned for amoment toward the table, or so much as winked,as they lay in decorous rows, gazing with muteadmiration at Belinda. She, unable to repress the joyand pride which swelled her sawdust bosom till theseams gaped, gave an occasional bounce as the windwaved her yellow skirts, or made the blue bootsdance a sort of jig upon the door. Hanging wasevidently not a painful operation, for she smiledcontentedly, and looked as if the red ribbon aroundher neck was not uncomfortably tight; therefore, ifslow suffocation suited her, who else had any rightto complain? So a pleasing silence reigned, noteven broken by a snore from Dinah, the top ofwhose turban alone was visible above the coverlet,or a cry from baby Jane, though her bare feet stuckout in a way that would have produced shrieks froma less well-trained infant.
 
　　Presently voices were heard approaching, andthrough the arch which led to a side-path came twolittle girls, one carrying a small pitcher, the otherproudly bearing a basket covered with a napkin.
 
　　They looked like twins, but were not, for Bab was ayear older than Betty, though only an inch taller.
 
　　Both had on brown calico frocks, much the worsefor a week's wear; but clean pink pinafores, in honorof the occasion, made up for that, as well as thegray stockings and thick boots. Both had round,rosy faces rather sunburnt, pug noses somewhatfreckled, merry blue eyes, and braided tails of hairhanging down their backs like those of the dear littleKenwigses.
 
　　"Don't they look sweet?" cried Bab, gazing withmaternal pride upon the left-hand row of dolls, whomight appropriately have sung in chorus, "We areseven.""Very nice; but my Belinda beats them all. I dothink she is the splendidest child that ever was!"And Betty set down the basket to run and embracethe suspended darling, just then kicking up her heelswith joyful abandon.
 
　　"The cake can be cooling while we fix the children.
 
　　It does smell perfectly delicious!" said Bab, liftingthe napkin to hang over the basket, fondly regardingthe little round loaf that lay inside.
 
　　"Leave some smell for me!" commanded Betty,running back to get her fair share of the spicy fragrance.
 
　　The pug noses sniffed it up luxuriously, and thebright eyes feasted upon the loveliness of the cake,so brown and shiny, with a tipsy-looking B in pie-cruststaggering down one side, instead of sittingproperly a-top.
 
　　"Ma let me put it on the very last minute, and itbaked so hard I couldn't pick it off. We can giveBelinda that piece, so it's just as well," observedBetty, taking the lead, as her child was queen of therevel.
 
　　"Let's set them round, so they can see too," proposedBab, going, with a hop, skip, and jump, tocollect her young family.
 
　　Betty agreed, and for several minutes both wereabsorbed in seating their dolls about the table; forsome of the dear things were so limp they wouldn'tsit up, and others so stiff they wouldn't sit down, andall sorts of seats had to be contrived to suit thepeculiarities of their spines. This arduous task accomplished,the fond mammas stepped back to enjoy thespectacle, which, I assure you, was an impressive one.
 
　　Belinda sat with great dignity at the head, her handsgenteelly holding a pink cambric pocket-handkerchiefin her lap. Josephus, her cousin, took the foot,elegantly arrayed in a new suit of purple and green gingham,with his speaking countenance much obscuredby a straw hat several sizes too large for him; whileon either side sat guests of every size, complexion,and costume, producing a very gay and varied effect,as all were dressed with a noble disregard of fashion.
 
　　"They will like to see us get tea. Did you forgetthe buns?" inquired Betty, anxiously.
 
　　"No; got them in my pocket." And Bab produced from thatchaotic cupboard two rather stale and crumbly ones, savedfrom lunch for the fete. These were cut up and arranged inplates, forming a graceful circle around the cake, still inits basket.
 
　　"Ma couldn't spare much milk, so we must mixwater with it. Strong tea isn't good for children,she says." And Bab contentedly surveyed the gillof skim-milk which was to satisfy the thirst of thecompany.
 
　　"While the tea draws and the cake cools, let's sitdown and rest; I'm so tired!" sighed Betty, droppingdown on the door-step and stretching out thestout little legs which had been on the go all day; forSaturday had its tasks as well as its fun, and muchbusiness had preceded this unusual pleasure.
 
　　Bab went and sat beside her, looking idly down thewalk toward the gate, where a fine cobweb shone inthe afternoon sun.
 
　　"Ma says she is going over the house in a day ortwo, now it is warm and dry after the storm, and wemay go with her. You know she wouldn't take us inthe fall, cause we had whooping-cough, and it wasdamp there. Now we shall see all the nice things;won't it be fun?" observed Bab, after a pause.
 
　　"Yes, indeed! Ma says there's lots of books inone room, and I can look at 'em while she goes round.
 
　　May be I'll have time to read some, and then I cantell you," answered Betty, who dearly loved stories,and seldom got any new ones.
 
　　"I'd rather see the old spinning-wheel up garret,and the big pictures, and the queer clothes in theblue chest. It makes me mad to have them all shutup there, when we might have such fun with them.
 
　　I'd just like to bang that old door down!" AndBab twisted round to give it a thump with her boots.
 
　　"You needn't laugh; you know you'd like it asmuch as me," she added, twisting back again, ratherashamed of her impatience.
 
　　"I didn't laugh.""You did! Don't you suppose I know what laughing is?""I guess I know I didn't.""You did laugh! How darst you tell such afib?""If you say that again I'll take Belinda and goright home; then what will you do?""I'll eat up the cake.""No, you won't! It's mine, Ma said so; and youare only company, so you'd better behave or I won'thave any party at all, so now."This awful threat calmed Bab's anger at once, andshe hastened to introduce a safer subject.
 
　　"Never mind; don't let's fight before the children.
 
　　Do you know, Ma says she will let us play in thecoach-house next time it rains, and keep the key ifwe want to.""Oh, goody! that's because we told her howwe found the little window under the woodbine, anddidn't try to go in, though we might have just aseasy as not," cried Betty, appeased at once, for, aftera ten years' acquaintance, she had grown used toBab's peppery temper.
 
　　"I suppose the coach will be all dust and ratsand spiders, but I don't care. You and the dollscan be the passengers, and I shall sit up in frontdrive.""You always do. I shall like riding better thanbeing horse all the time, with that old wooden bit inmy mouth, and you jerking my arms off," said poorBetty, who was tired of being horse continually.
 
　　"I guess we'd better go and get the water now,"suggested Bab, feeling that it was not safe to encourageher sister in such complaints.
 
　　"It is not many people who would dare to leavetheir children all alone with such a lovely cake, andknow they wouldn't pick at it," said Betty proudly,as they trotted away to the spring, each with a littletin pail in her hand.
 
　　Alas, for the faith of these too confiding mammas!
 
　　They were gone about five minutes, and when theyreturned a sight met their astonished eyes whichproduced a simultaneous shriek of horror. Flat upontheir faces lay the fourteen dolls, and the cake, thecherished cake, was gone.
 
　　For an instant the little girls could only standmotionless, gazing at the dreadful scene. Then Babcast her water-pail wildly away, and, doubling upher fist, cried out fiercely, --"It was that Sally! She said she'd pay me forslapping her when she pinched little Mary Ann, andnow she has. I'll give it to her! You run that way.
 
　　I'll run this. Quick! quick!"Away they went, Bab racing straight on, and bewilderedBetty turning obediently round to trot in theopposite direction as fast as she could, with the watersplashing all over her as she ran, for she had forgottento put down her pail. Round the house theywent, and met with a crash at the back door, but nosign of the thief appeared.
 
　　"In the lane!" shouted Bab.
 
　　"Down by the spring!" panted Betty; and offthey went again, one to scramble up a pile of stonesand look over the wall into the avenue, the other toscamper to the spot they had just left. Still, nothingappeared but the dandelions' innocent faces lookingup at Bab, and a brown bird scared from his bath inthe spring by Betty's hasty approach.
 
　　Back they rushed, but only to meet a new scare,which made them both cry "Ow!" and fly into theporch for refuge.
 
　　A strange dog was sitting calmly among the ruinsof the feast, licking his lips after basely eating up thelast poor bits of bun, when he had bolted the cake,basket, and all, apparently.
 
　　"Oh, the horrid thing!" cried Bab, longing to givebattle, but afraid, for the dog was a peculiar as well asa dishonest animal.
 
　　"He looks like our China poodle, doesn't he?"whispered Betty, making herself as small as possiblebehind her more valiant sister.
 
　　He certainly did; for, though much larger anddirtier than the well-washed China dog, this live onehad the same tassel at the end of his tail, ruffles ofhair round his ankles, and a body shaven behind andcurly before. His eyes, however, were yellow, insteadof glassy black, like the other's; his red nose workedas he cocked it up, as if smelling for more cakes, inthe most impudent manner; and never, during thethree years he had stood on the parlor mantel-piece,had the China poodle done the surprising feats withwhich this mysterious dog now proceeded to astonishthe little girls almost out of their wits.
 
　　First he sat up, put his forepaws together, andbegged prettily; then he suddenly flung his hind-legsinto the air, and walked about with great ease.
 
　　Hardly had they recovered from this shock, whenthe hind-legs came down, the fore-legs went up, andhe paraded in a soldierly manner to and fro, likea sentinel on guard. But the crowning performancewas when he took his tail in his mouth and waltzeddown the walk, over the prostrate dolls, to the gateand back again, barely escaping a general upset ofthe ravaged table.
 
　　Bab and Betty could only hold each other tight andsqueal with delight, for never had they seen any thingso funny; but, when the gymnastics ended, and thedizzy dog came and stood on the step before thembarking loudly, with that pink nose of his sniffingat their feet, and his queer eyes fixed sharply uponthem, their amusement turned to fear again, and theydared not stir.
 
　　"Whish, go away! " commanded Bab.
 
　　"Scat! " meekly quavered Betty.
 
　　To their great relief, the poodle gave several moreinquiring barks, and then vanished as suddenly ashe appeared. With one impulse, the children ran tosee what became of him, and, after a brisk scamperthrough the orchard, saw the tasselled tail disappearunder the fence at the far end.
 
　　"Where do you s'pose he came from?" askedBetty, stopping to rest on a big stone.
 
　　"I'd like to know where he's gone, too, and givehim a good beating, old thief! " scolded Bab, rememberingtheir wrongs.
 
　　"Oh, dear, yes! I hope the cake burnt him dreadfully if hedid eat it," groaned Betty, sadly remembering the dozen goodraisins she chopped up, and the "lots of 'lasses" mother putinto the dear lost loaf.
 
　　"The party's all spoilt, so we may as well gohome; and Bab mournfully led the way back.
 
　　Betty puckered up her face to cry, but burst outlaughing in spite of her woe.
 
　　"It was so funny to see him spin round and walk onhis head! I wish he'd do it all over again; don't you?""Yes: but I hate him just the same. I wonderwhat Ma will say when - why! why!" and Babstopped short in the arch, with her eyes as roundand almost as large as the blue saucers on thetea-tray.
 
　　"What is it? oh, what is it? " cried Betty, all readyto run away if any new terror appeared.
 
　　"Look! there! it's come back!" said Bab in anawe-stricken whisper, pointing to the table.
 
　　Betty did look, and her eyes opened even wider, --as well they might, -- for there, just where they firstput it, was the lost cake, unhurt, unchanged, exceptthat the big B had coasted a little further down thegingerbread hill.
Chapter 2 Where They Found His Master
     Neither spoke for a minute, astonishment being toogreat for words; then, as by one impulse, both stoleup and touched the cake with a timid finger, quiteprepared to see it fly away in some mysterious andstartling manner. It remained sitting tranquilly inthe basket, however, and the children drew a long breathof relief, for, though they did not believe in fairies,the late performances did seem rather like witchcraft.
 
　　"The dog didn't eat it!""Sally didn't take it!""How do you know?""She never would have put it back.""Who did?""Can't tell, but I forgive 'em.""What shall we do now?" asked Betty, feeling asif it would be very difficult to settle down to a quiettea-party after such unusual excitement.
 
　　"Eat that cake up just as fast as ever we can", andBab divided the contested delicacy with one chop ofthe big knife, bound to make sure of her own shareat all events.
 
　　It did not take long, for they washed it down withsips of milk, and ate as fast as possible, glancinground all the while to see if the queer dog wascoming again.
 
　　"There! now I'd like to see any one take my cakeaway," said Bab, defiantly crunching her half of thepie-crust B.
 
　　"Or mine either," coughed Betty, choking over araisin that wouldn't go down in a hurry.
 
　　"We might as well clear up, and play there hadbeen an earthquake," suggested Bab, feeling thatsome such convulsion of Nature was needed to explainsatisfactorily the demoralized condition of herfamily.
 
　　"That will be splendid. My poor Linda wasknocked right over on her nose. Darlin' child, cometo your mother and be fixed," purred Betty, liftingthe fallen idol from a grove of chickweed, and tenderlybrushing the dirt from Belinda's heroically smilingface.
 
　　"She'll have croup to-night as sure as the world.
 
　　We'd better make up some squills out of this sugarand water," said Bab, who dearly loved to dose thedollies all round.
 
　　"P'r'aps she will, but you needn't begin to sneezeyet awhile. I can sneeze for my own children, thankyou, ma'am," returned Betty, sharply, for her usuallyamiable spirit had been ruffled by the late occurrences.
 
　　"I didn't sneeze! I've got enough to do to talkand cry and cough for my own poor dears, withoutbothering about yours," cried Bab, even more ruffledthan her sister.
 
　　"Then who did? I heard a real live sneeze justas plain as anything," and Betty looked up to thegreen roof above her, as if the sound came from thatdirection.
 
　　A yellow-bird sat swinging and chirping on the talllilac-bush, but no other living thing was in sight.
 
　　Birds don't sneeze, do they?" asked Betty, eyinglittle Goldy suspiciously.
 
　　"You goose! of course they don't.""Well. I should just like to know who is laughingand sneezing round here. "May be it is the dog,"suggested Betty looking relieved.
 
　　"I never heard of a dog's laughing, except MotherHubbard's. This is such a queer one, may be he can,though. I wonder where he went to?" and Bab tooka survey down both the side-paths, quite longing tosee the funny poodle again.
 
　　"I know where I 'm going to," said Betty, pilingthe dolls into her apron with more haste than care.
 
　　"I'm going right straight home to tell Ma all aboutit. I don't like such actions, and I 'm afraid to stay.""I ain't; but I guess it is going to rain, so I shallhave to go any way," answered Bab, taking advantageof the black clouds rolling up the sky, for she scornedto own that she was afraid of any thing.
 
　　Clearing the table in a summary manner by catching upthe four corners of the cloth, Bab put therattling bundle into her apron, flung her childrenon the top and pronounced herself ready to depart.
 
　　Betty lingered an instant to pick up and endsthat might be spoilt by the rain, and, when she turnedfrom taking the red halter off the knocker, two lovelypink roses lay on the stone steps.
 
　　"Oh, Bab, just see! Here's the very ones wewanted. Wasn't it nice of the wind to blow 'emdown? " she called out, picking them up and runningafter her sister, who had strolled moodily along, stilllooking about for her sworn foe, Sally Folsom.
 
　　The flowers soothed the feelings of the little girls,because they had longed for them, and bravely resistedthe temptation to climb up the trellis and helpthemselves, since their mother had forbidden suchfeats, owing to a fall Bab got trying to reach a honeysucklefrom the vine which ran all over the porch.
 
　　Home they went and poured out their tale, to Mrs.
 
　　Moss's great amusement; for she saw in it only someplaymate's prank, and was not much impressed bythe mysterious sneeze and laugh.
 
　　"We'll have a grand rummage Monday, and findout what is going on over there," was all she said.
 
　　But Mrs. Moss could not keep her promise, for onMonday it still rained, and the little girls paddled offto school like a pair of young ducks, enjoying everypuddle they came to, since India-rubber boots madewading a delicious possibility. They took theirdinner, and at noon regaled a crowd of comrades withan account of the mysterious dog, who appeared tobe haunting the neighborhood, as several of the otherchildren had seen him examining their back yardswith interest. He had begged of them, but to nonehad he exhibited his accomplishments except Baband Betty; and they were therefore much set up, andcalled him "our dog" with an air. The cake transactionremained a riddle, for Sally Folsom solemnlydeclared that she was playing tag in Mamie Snow'sbarn at that identical time. No one had been nearthe old house but the two children, and no one couldthrow any light upon that singular affair.
 
　　It produced a great effect, however; for even"teacher" was interested, and told such amazingtales of a juggler she once saw, that doughnuts wereleft forgotten in dinner-baskets, and wedges of pieremained suspended in the air for several minutes ata time, instead of vanishing with miraculous rapidityas usual. At afternoon recess, which the girls hadfirst, Bab nearly dislocated every joint of her littlebody trying to imitate the poodle's antics. She hadpractised on her bed with great success, but thewood-shed floor was a different thing, as her kneesand elbows soon testified.
 
　　"It looked just as easy as any thing; I don't seehow he did it," she said, coming down with a bumpafter vainly attempting to walk on her hands.
 
　　"My gracious, there he is this very minute! " criedBetty, who sat on a little wood-pile near the door.
 
　　There was a general rush, -- and sixteen small girlsgazed out into the rain as eagerly as if to beholdCinderella's magic coach, instead of one forlorndog trotting by through the mud.
 
　　"Oh, do call him in and make him dance!" criedthe girls, all chirping at once, till it sounded as if aflock of sparrows had taken possession of the shed.
 
　　"I will call him, he knows me," and Bab scrambledup, forgetting how she had chased the poodleand called him names two days ago.
 
　　He evidently had not forgotten, however; for,though he paused and looked wistfully at them, hewould not approach, but stood dripping in the rain,with his frills much bedraggled, while his tasselledtail wagged slowly, and his pink nose pointed suggestivelyto the pails and baskets, nearly empty now.
 
　　"He's hungry; give him something to eat, andthen he'll see that we don't want to hurt him,"suggested Sally, starting a contribution with her lastbit of bread and butter.
 
　　Bab caught up her new pail, and collected all theodds and ends; then tried to beguile the poor beastin to eat and be comforted. But he only came asfar as the door, and, sitting up, begged with suchimploring eyes that Bab put down the pail and steppedback, saying pitifully, --"The poor thing is starved; let him eat all hewants, and we won't touch him."The girls drew back with little clucks of interestand compassion; but I regret to say their charitywas not rewarded as they expected, for, the minutethe coast was clear, the dog marched boldly up,seized the handle of the pail in his mouth, and wasoff with it, galloping down the road at a great pace.
 
　　Shrieks arose from the children, especially Bab andBetty, basely bereaved of their new dinner-pail; butno one could follow the thief, for the Ben rang, andin they went, so much excited that the boys rushedtumultuously forth to discover the cause.
 
　　By the time school was over the sun was out, andBab and Betty hastened home to tell their wrongs andbe comforted by mother, who did it most effectually.
 
　　"Never mind, dears, I'll get you another pail, ifhe doesn't bring it back as he did before. As it istoo wet for you to play out, you shall go and seethe old coach-house as I promised, Keep on yourrubbers and come along."This delightful prospect much assuaged their woe,and away they went, skipping gayly down the gravelledpath, while Mrs. Moss followed, with skirts welltucked up, and a great bunch of keys in her hand;for she lived at the Lodge, and had charge of thepremises.
 
　　The small door of the coach-house was fastenedinside, but the large one had a padlock on it; andthis being quickly unfastened, one half swung open,and the little girls ran in, too eager and curious evento cry out when they found themselves at last inpossession of the long-coveted old carriage. A dusty,musty concern enough; but it had a high seat, adoor, steps that let down, and many other charmswhich rendered it most desirable in the eyes ofchildren.
 
　　Bab made straight for the box and Betty for thedoor; but both came tumbling down faster than theywent up, when from the gloom of the interior camea shrill bark, and a low voice saying quickly, "Down,Sancho! down!""Who is there?" demanded Mrs. Moss, in a sterntone, backing toward the door with both childrenclinging to her skirts.
 
　　The well-known curly white head was popped outof the broken window, and a mild whine seemed tosay, "Don't be alarmed, ladies; we won't hurt you."Come out this minute, or I shall have to comeand get you," called Mrs. Moss, growing very braveall of a sudden as she caught sight of a pair of small,dusty shoes under the coach.
 
　　"Yes, 'm, I'm coming, as fast as I can," answered ameek voice, as what appeared to be a bundle of ragsleaped out of the dark, followed by the poodle, whoimmediately sat down at the bare feet of his ownerwith a watchful air, as if ready to assault any one whomight approach too near.
 
　　"Now, then, who are you, and how did you gethere?" asked Mrs. Moss, trying to speak sternly,though her motherly eyes were already full of pity, asthey rested on the forlorn little figure before her.
Chatper 3 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 onfour legs;" and the small boy gave a nod thatseemed 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 wasvery thin, the eyes hollow with hunger or pain, andthe ragged figure leaned on the wheel as if too weakor weary to stand alone.
 
　　"No, 'm, not of my own; and the people I wasleft with beat me so, I -- run away." The last wordsseemed to bolt out against his will as if the woman'ssympathy irresistibly won the child's confidence.
 
　　"Then I don't blame you. But how did you gethere?""I was so tired I couldn't go any further, andI thought the folks up here at the big housewould take me in. But the gate was locked, and Iwas so discouraged, I jest laid down outside andgive up.""Poor little soul, I don't wonder," said Mrs. Moss,while the children looked deeply interested at mentionof their gate.
 
　　The boy drew a long breath, and his eyes began totwinkle in spite of his forlorn state as he went on,while the dog pricked up his ears at mention of hisname: --"While I was restin' I heard some one come alonginside, and I peeked, and saw them little girls playin'.
 
　　The vittles looked so nice I couldn't help wantin'
 
　　'em; but I didn't take nothin', -- it was Sancho, andhe took the cake for me."Bab and Betty gave a gasp and stared reproachfullyat the poodle, who half 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 youwas racin' after Sancho, and then clim' up on the porchand hid," said the boy with a grin.
 
　　"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?" saidBab.
 
　　"I wasn't fit to be seen," muttered Ben, glancingat his tatters as if he'd like to dive out of sight intothe dark coach again.
 
　　"How came you here?" demanded Mrs. Moss,suddenly remembering her responsibility.
 
　　"I heard 'em talk about a little winder and a shed,and when they'd gone I found it and come in. Theglass was broke, and I only pulled the nail out. Ihaven't done a mite of harm sleepin' here two nights.
 
　　I was so tuckered out I couldn't go on nohow, thoughI tried a-Sunday.""And came back again?
 
　　"Yes, 'm; it was so lonesome in the rain, and thisplace seemed kinder like home, and I could hear 'emtalkin' outside, and Sanch he found vittles, and I waspretty comfortable.""Well, I never!" ejaculated Mrs. Moss, whiskingup a corner of her apron to wipe her eyes, for thethought of the poor little fellow alone there for twodays and nights with no bed but musty straw, no foodbut the scraps a dog brought him, was too much forher. "Do you know what I'm going to do withyou?" she asked, trying to look calm and cool, with agreat tear running down her wholesome red cheek, anda smile trying to break out at the corners of her lips.
 
　　"No, ma'am, and I dunno as I care. Only don'tbe hard on Sanch; he's been real good to me, andwe 're fond of one another; ain't us, old chap?"answered the boy, with his arm around the dog'sneck, and an anxious look which he had not wornfor himself.
 
　　"I'm going to take you right home, and wash and feedand put you in a good bed; and to-morrow, --well, we'll see what'll happen then," said Mrs. Moss,not quite sure about it herself.
 
　　"You're very kind, ma'am, I'll be glad to workfor you. Ain't you got a horse I can see to?" askedthe boy, eagerly.
 
　　"Nothing but hens and a cat."Bab and Betty burst out laughing when their mothersaid that, and Ben gave a faint giggle, as if he wouldlike to join in if he only had the strength to do it.
 
　　But his legs shook under him, and he felt a queer dizziness;so he could only hold on to Sancho, and blinkat the light like a young owl.
 
　　"Come right along, child. Run on, girls, and putthe rest of the broth to warming, and fill the kettle.
 
　　I'll see to the boy," commanded Mrs. Moss, wavingoff the children, and going up to feel the pulse of hernew charge, for it suddenly occurred to her that hemight be sick and not safe to take home.
 
　　The hand he gave her was very thin, but clean andcool, and the black eyes were clear though hollow,for the poor lad was half-starved.
 
　　"I'm awful shabby, but I ain't dirty. I had awashin' in the rain last night, and I've jest about livedon water lately," he explained, wondering why shelooked 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 hada mite but what Sanch brought, for three days; andI always go halves, don't I, Sanch?"The poodle gave a shrill bark, and vibrated excitedlybetween the door and his master as if he understood allthat was going on, and recommended aspeedy march toward the promised food and shelter.
 
　　Mrs. Moss took the hint, and bade the boy follow herat once and bring his "things" with him.
 
　　"I ain't got any. Some big fellers took away mybundle, else I wouldn't look so bad. There's onlythis. I'm sorry Sanch took it, and I'd like to give itback if I knew whose it was," said Ben, bringing thenew dinner-pail out from the depths of the coachwhere he had gone to housekeeping.
 
　　"That's soon done; it's mine, and you're welcome to thebits your queer dog ran off with. Comealong, I must lock up," and Mrs. Moss clanked herkeys suggestively.
 
　　Ben limped out, leaning on a broken hoe-handle,for he was stiff after two days in such damp lodgings,as well as worn out with a fortnight's wanderingthrough sun and rain. Sancho was in great spirits,evidently feeling that their woes were over and hisforaging expeditions at an end, for he frisked abouthis master with yelps of pleasure, or made playfuldarts at the ankles of his benefactress, which causedher to cry, "Whish!" and "Scat!" and shake herskirts at him as if he were a cat or hen.
 
　　A hot fire was roaring in the stove under the broth-skilletand tea-kettle, and Betty was poking in morewood, with a great smirch of black on her chubbycheek, while Bab was cutting away at the loaf as ifbent on slicing her own fingers off. Before Ben knewwhat he was about, he found himself in the old rocking-chairdevouring bread and butter as only a hungryboy can, with Sancho close by gnawing a mutton-bonelike a ravenous wolf in sheep's clothing.
 
　　While the new-comers were thus happily employed, Mrs.
 
　　Moss beckoned the little girls out ofthe room, and gave them both an errand.
 
　　"Bab, you run over to Mrs. Barton's, and ask herfor any old duds Billy don't want; and Betty, you goto the Cutters, and tell Miss Clarindy I'd like a coupleof the shirts we made at last sewing circle. Any shoes,or a hat, or socks, would come handy, for the poordear hasn't a whole thread on him."Away went the children full of anxiety to clothetheir beggar; and so well did they plead his causewith the good neighbors, that Ben hardly knew himself whenhe emerged from the back bedroom half anhour later, clothed in Billy Barton's faded flannel suit,with an unbleached cotton shirt out of the Dorcasbasket, and a pair of Milly Cutter's old shoes on hisfeet.
 
　　Sancho also had been put in better trim, for, afterhis master had refreshed himself with a warm bath, hegave his dog a good scrub while Mrs. Moss set a stitchhere and there in the new old clothes; and Sanchoreappeared, looking more like the china poodle thanever, being as white as snow, his curls well brushedup, and his tasselly tail waving proudly over hisback.
 
　　Feeling eminently respectable and comfortable, thewanderers humbly presented themselves, and weregreeted with smiles of approval from the little girls anda hospitable welcome from the mother, who setthem near the stove to dry, as both were decidedlydamp after their ablutions.
 
　　"I declare I shouldn't have known you!" exclaimedthe good woman, surveying the boy with great satisfaction;for, though still very thin and tired, the ladhad a tidy look that pleased her, and a lively way ofmoving about in his clothes, like an eel in a skin rathertoo big for him. The merry black eyes seemed tosee every thing, the voice had an honest sound, andthe sunburnt face looked several years younger sincethe unnatural despondency had gone out of it.
 
　　"It's very nice, and me and Sanch are lotsobliged, ma'am," murmured Ben, getting red andbashful under the three pairs of friendly eyes fixedupon him.
 
　　Bab and Betty were doing up the tea-things withunusual despatch, so that they might entertain theirguest, and just as Ben spoke Bab dropped a cup.
 
　　To her great surprise no smash followed, for, bendingquickly, the boy caught it as it fell, and presented itto her on the back of his hand with a little bow.
 
　　"Gracious ! how could you do it? "asked Bab, looking as ifshe thought there was magic about.
 
　　"That's nothing; look here," and, taking two plates,Ben sent them spinning up into the air, catching andthrowing so rapidly that Bab and Betty stood withtheir mouths open, as if to swallow the plates shouldthey fall, while Mrs. Moss, with her dish-cloth suspended,watched the antics of her crockery with a housewife's anxiety.
 
　　"That does beat all! " was the only exclamationshe had time to make; for, as if desirous of showinghis gratitude in the only way he could, Ben tookclothes-pins from a basket near by, sent several saucerstwirling up, caught them on the pins,balanced the pins on chin, nose, forehead, and wentwalking about with a new and peculiar sort of toadstoolornamenting his countenance.
 
　　The children were immensely tickled, and Mrs.
 
　　Moss was so amused she would have lent her bestsoup-tureen if he had expressed a wish for it. ButBen was too tired to show all his accomplishmentsat once, and he soon stopped, looking as if he almostregretted having betrayed that he possessed any.
 
　　"I guess you've been in the juggling business,"said Mrs. Moss, with a wise nod, for she saw the samelook on his face as when he said his name was BenBrown, -- the look of one who was not telling thewhole truth.
 
　　"Yes, 'm. I used to help Senor Pedro, the Wizardof the World, and I learned some of his tricks,"stammered Ben, trying to seem innocent.
 
　　"Now, look here, boy, you'd better tell me thewhole story, and tell it true, or I shall have to sendyou up to judge Morris. I wouldn't like to do that,for he is a harsh sort of a man; so, if you haven'tdone any thing bad, you needn't be afraid to speakout, and I'll do what I can for you," said Mrs. Moss,rather sternly, as she went and sat down in her 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 to go back; and if I tell, may beyou'll let 'em know where I be," said Ben, much distressedbetween his longing to confide in his newfriend and his fear of his old enemies.
 
　　"If they abused you, of course I wouldn't. Tellthe truth, and I'll stand by you. Girls, you go forthe milk.""Oh, Ma, do let us stay! We'll never tell,truly, truly!" cried Bab and Betty, full of dismaybeing sent off when secrets were about to bedivulged.
 
　　"I don't mind 'em," said Ben handsomely.
 
　　"Very well, only hold your tongues. Now, boywhere did you come from?" said Mrs. Moss, as thelittle girls hastily sat down together on their privateand particular bench opposite their mother, brimmingwith curiosity and beaming with satisfaction at theprospect before them.
Chapter 4 His Story
     "I ran away from a circus," began Ben, but gotno further, for Bab and Betty gave a simultaneousbounce of delight, and both cried out at once, --"We've been to one! It was splendid!""You wouldn't think so if you knew as much aboutit as I do," answered Ben, with a sudden frown andwriggle, as if he still felt the smart of the blows hehad received. "We don't call it splendid; do we,Sancho?" he added, making a queer noise, whichcaused the poodle to growl and bang the floor irefullywith his tail, as he lay close to his master's feet,getting acquainted with the new shoes they wore.
 
　　"How came you there?" asked Mrs. Moss, ratherdisturbed at the news.
 
　　"Why, my father was the 'Wild Hunter of thePlains.' Didn't you ever see or hear of him?" saidBen, as if surprised at her ignorance.
 
　　"Bless your heart, child, I haven't been to a circusthis ten years, and I'm sure I don't remember whator who I saw then," answered Mrs. Moss, amused, yettouched by the son's evident admiration for his father.
 
　　"Didn't you see him?" demanded Ben, turning tothe little girls.
 
　　"We saw Indians and tumbling men, and the Bounding Brothersof Borneo, and a clown and monkeys, and a little mite of apony with blue eyes. Was he any of them?" answered Betty,innocently.
 
　　"Pooh! he didn't belong to that lot. He alwaysrode two, four, six, eight horses to oncet, and I usedto ride with him till I got too big. My father wasA No. 1, and didn't do any thing but break horsesand ride 'em," said Ben, with as much pride as if hisparent had been a President.
 
　　"Is he dead?" asked Mrs. Moss.
 
　　"I don't know. Wish I did," -- and poor Ben gavea gulp as if something rose in his throat and chokedhim.
 
　　"Tell us all about it, dear, and may be we can findout where he is," said Mrs. Moss, leaning forward topat the shiny dark head that was suddenly bent overthe dog.
 
　　"Yes, ma'am. I will, thank y'," and with an effortthe boy steadied his voice and plunged into themiddle of his story.
 
　　"Father was always good to me, and I liked bein'
 
　　with him after granny died. I lived with her till Iwas seven; then father took me, and I was trained forrider. You jest oughter have seen me when I wasa little feller all in white tights, and a gold belt, andpink riggin', standing' on father's shoulder, or hangin'
 
　　on to old General's tail, and him gallopin' full pelt;or father ridin' three horses with me on his head wavin'
 
　　flags, and every one clapping like fun.""Oh, weren't you scared to pieces?" asked Betty,quaking at the mere thought.
 
　　"Not a bit. I liked it.""So should I!" cried Bab enthusiastically.
 
　　"Then I drove the four ponies in the little chariot,when we paraded," continued Ben, "and I sat onthe great ball up top of the grand car drawed byHannibal and Nero. But I didn't like that, 'causeit was awful high and shaky, and the sun was hot,and the trees slapped my face, and my legs achedholdin' on.""What's hanny bells and neroes?" demandedBetty.
 
　　"Big elephants. Father never let 'em put me upthere, and they didn't darst till he was gone; then Ihad to, else they'd 'a' thrashed me.""Didn't any one take your part? " asked Mrs.
 
　　Moss.
 
　　"Yes, 'm, 'most all the ladies did; they were verygood to me, 'specially 'Melia. She vowed she wouldn'tgo on in the Tunnymunt act if they didn't stop knockin'
 
　　me round when I wouldn't help old Buck with thebears. So they had to stop it, 'cause she led firstrate, and none of the other ladies rode half as wellas 'Melia.""Bears ! oh, do tell about them!" exclaimed Bab,in great excitement, for at the only circus she hadseen the animals were her delight.
 
　　"Buck had five of 'em, cross old fellers, and heshowed 'em off. I played with 'em once, jest for fun,and he thought it would make a hit to have me showoff instead of him. But they had a way of clawin' andhuggin' that wasn't nice, and you couldn't never tellwhether they were good-natured or ready to bite yourhead off. Buck was all over scars where they'dscratched and bit him, and I wasn't going to do it;and I didn't have to, owin' to Miss St. John's standin'
 
　　by me like a good one.""Who was Miss St. John?" asked Mrs. Moss,rather confused by the sudden introduction of newnames and people.
 
　　"Why she was 'Melia, -- Mrs. Smithers, the ringmaster'swife. His name wasn't Montgomery any more'n hers was St.
 
　　John. They all change 'em to something fine on the bills,you know. Father used to be Senor Jose Montebello; and Iwas Master Adolphus Bloomsbury, after I stopped bein' aflyin' Coopid and a infant Progidy."Mrs. Moss leaned back in her chair to laugh atthat, greatly to the surprise of the little girls, whowere much impressed with the elegance of these high-soundingnames.
 
　　"Go on with your story, Ben, and tell why youran away and what became of your Pa," she said,composing herself to listen, really interested in thechild.
 
　　"Well, you see, father had a quarrel with oldSmithers, and went off sudden last fall, just beforetenting season' was over. He told me he wasgoin' to a great ridin' school in New York and whenhe was fixed he'd send for me. I was to stay inthe museum and help Pedro with the trick business.
 
　　He was a nice man and I liked him, and 'Meliawas goin' to see to me, and I didn't mind forawhile. But father didn't send for me, and I beganto have horrid times. If it hadn't been for 'Meliaand Sancho I would have cut away long before Idid.""What did you have to do?""Lots of things, for times was dull and I was smart.
 
　　Smithers said so, any way, and I had to tumble uplively when he gave the word. I didn't mind doin'
 
　　tricks or showin' off Sancho, for father trained him,and he always did well with me. But they wantedme to drink gin to keep me small, and I wouldn't,'cause father didn't like that kind of thing. I usedto ride tip-top, and that just suited me till I got a falland hurt my back; but I had to go on all the same,though I ached dreadful, and used to tumble off, Iwas so dizzy and weak.""What a brute that man must have been! Whydidn't 'Melia put a stop to it?" asked Mrs. Moss,indignantly.
 
　　"She died, ma'am, and then there was no one leftbut Sanch; so I run away."Then Ben fell to patting his dog again, to hide thetears he could not keep from coming at the thoughtof the kind friend he had lost.
 
　　"What did you mean to do?""Find father; but I couldn't, for he wasn't at theridin' school, and they told me he had gone out Westto buy mustangs for a man who wanted a lot. Sothen I was in a fix, for I couldn't go to father, didn'tknow jest where he was, and I wouldn't sneak backto Smithers to be abused. Tried to make 'em takeme at the ridin' school, but they didn't want a boy,and I travelled along and tried to get work. But I'dhave starved if it hadn't been for Sanch. I left himtied up when I ran off, for fear they'd say I stole him.
 
　　He's a very valuable dog, ma'am, the best trick dogI ever see, and they'd want him back more than theywould me. He belongs to father, and I hated to leavehim; but I did. I hooked it one dark night, andnever thought I'd see him ag'in. Next mornin' Iwas eatin' breakfast in a barn miles away, and dreadfullonesome, when he came tearin' in, all mud andwet, with a great piece of rope draggin'. He'dgnawed it and come after me, and wouldn't go backor be lost; and I'll never leave him again, will I, dearold feller?"Sancho had listened to this portion of the tale withintense interest, and when Ben spoke to him he stoodstraight up, put both paws on the boy's shoulders,licked his face with a world of dumb affection in hisyellow eyes, and gave a little whine which said asplainly as words, --"Cheer up, little master; fathers may vanish andfriends die, but I never will desert you."Ben hugged him close and smiled over his curly,white head at the little girls, who clapped theirhands at the pleasing tableau, and then went to patand fondle the good creature, assuring him that theyentirely forgave the theft of the cake and the newdinner-pail. Inspired by these endearments and certainprivate signals given by Ben, Sancho suddenlyburst away to perform all his best antics with unusualgrace and dexterity.
 
　　Bab and Betty danced about the room with rapture,while Mrs. Moss declared she was almost afraid tohave such a wonderfully intelligent animal in thehouse. Praises of his dog pleased Ben more thanpraises of himself, and when the confusion had subsidedhe entertained his audience with a lively accountof Sancho's cleverness, fidelity, and the variousadventures in which he had nobly borne his part.
 
　　While he talked, Mrs. Moss was making up hermind about him, and when he came to an end of hisdog's perfections, she said, gravely, --"If I can find something for you to do, would youlike to stay here awhile?""Oh, yes, ma'am, I'd be glad to!" answered Ben,eagerly; for the place seemed home-like already, andthe good woman almost as motherly as the departedMrs. Smithers.
 
　　"Well, I'll step over to the Squire's to-morrowto see what he says. Shouldn't wonder if he'dtake you for a chore-boy, if you are as smart asyou say. He always has one in the summer, andI haven't seen any round yet. Can you drivecows?""Hope so;" and Ben gave a shrug, as if it was avery unnecessary question to put to a person who haddriven four calico ponies in a gilded chariot.
 
　　"It mayn't be as lively as riding elephants andplaying with bears, but it is respectable; and I guessyou'll be happier switching Brindle and Buttercupthan being switched yourself," said Mrs. Moss, shakingher head at him with a smile.
 
　　"I guess I will, ma'am," answered Ben, with suddenmeekness, remembering the trials from which he hadescaped.
 
　　Very soon after this, he was sent off For a good night'ssleep in the back bedroom, with Sancho to watch overhim. But both found it difficult to slumber till theracket overhead subsided; for Bab insisted on playingshe was a bear and devouring poor Betty, inspite of her wails, till their mother came up and putan end to it by threatening to send Ben and his dogaway in the morning, if the girls "didn't behave andbe as still as mice."This they solemnly promised; and they were soondreaming of gilded cars and mouldy coaches, runawayboys and dinner-pails, dancing dogs and twirling teacups.
Chapter 5 Ben Gets A Place
    When Ben awoke next morning, he looked about him for amoment half bewildered, because there was neither acanvas tent, a barn roof, nor the blue sky above him,but a neat white ceiling, where several flies buzzedsociably together, while from without came, not the tramping ofhorses, the twitter of swallows, or the chirp of earlybirds, but the comfortable cackle of hens and thesound of two little voices chanting the multiplicationtable.
 
　　Sancho sat at the open window, watching the oldcat wash her face, and trying to imitate her with hisgreat ruffled paw, so awkwardly that Ben laughed;and Sanch, to hide his confusion at being caught,made one bound from chair to bed, and licked hismaster's face so energetically that the boy dived underthe bedclothes to escape from the rough tongue.
 
　　A rap on the floor from below made both jump up,and in ten minutes a shiny-faced lad and a lively dogwent racing downstairs, -- one to say, "Good-mornin',ma'am," the other to wag his tail faster than evertail wagged before, for ham frizzled on the stove, andSancho was fond of it.
 
　　"Did you rest well? " asked Mrs. Moss, noddingat him, fork in hand.
 
　　"Guess I did! Never saw such a bed. I'm usedto hay and a horse-blanket, and lately nothin' but skyfor a cover and grass for my feather-bed," laughedBen, grateful for present comforts and making light ofpast hardships.
 
　　"Clean, sweet corn-husks ain't bad for young bones,even if they haven't got more flesh on them thanyours have," answered Mrs. Moss, giving the smoothhead a motherly stroke as she went by.
 
　　"Fat ain't allowed in our profession, ma'am. Thethinner the better for tight-ropes and tumblin';likewise bareback ridin' and spry jugglin'. Muscle's thething, and there you are."Ben stretched out a wiry little arm with a clenchedfist at the end of it, as if he were a young Hercules,ready to play ball with the stove if she gave him leave.
 
　　Glad to see him in such good spirits, she pointed tothe well outside, saying pleasantly, --"Well, then, just try your muscle by bringing insome fresh water."Ben caught up a pail and ran off, ready to be useful;but, while he waited for the bucket to fill downamong the mossy stones, he looked about him, wellpleased with all he saw, -- the small brown house witha pretty curl of smoke rising from its chimney, thelittle sisters sitting in the sunshine, green hills andnewly-planted fields far and near, a brook dancingthrough the orchard, birds singing in the elm avenue,and all the world as fresh and lovely as early summercould make it.
 
　　"Don't you think it's pretty nice here?" asked Bab,as his eye came back to them after a long look, whichseemed to take in every thing, brightening as it roved.
 
　　"Just the nicest place that ever was. Only needsa horse round somewhere to be complete," answeredBen, as the long well-sweep came up with a drippingbucket at one end, an old grindstone at the other.
 
　　"The judge has three, but he's so fussy about themhe won't even let us pull a few hairs out of old Major'stail to make rings of," said Betty, shutting her arithmetic,with an injured expression.
 
　　"Mike lets me ride the white one to water whenthe judge isn't round. It's such fun to go jouncingdown the lane and back. I do love horses!" criedBab, bobbing up and down on the blue bench toimitate the motion of white Jenny.
 
　　"I guess you are a plucky sort of a girl," and Bengave her an approving look as he went by, takingcare to slop a little water on Mrs. Puss, who stoodcurling her whiskers and humping up her back atSancho.
 
　　"Come to breakfast!" called Mrs. Moss; and forabout twenty minutes little was said, as mush andmilk vanished in a way that would have astonishedeven Jack the Giant-killer with his leather bag.
 
　　"Now, girls, fly round and get your chores done up;Ben, you go chop me some kindlings; and I'll makethings tidy. Then we can all start off at once," saidMrs. Moss, as the last mouthful vanished, and Sancholicked his lips over the savory scraps that fell to hisshare.
 
　　Ben fell to chopping so vigorously that chips flewwildly all about the shed; Bab rattled the cups intoher dish-pan with dangerous haste, and Betty raiseda cloud of dust "sweeping-up;" while mother seemedto be everywhere at once. Even Sanch, feeling thathis fate was at stake, endeavored to help in his ownsomewhat erratic way, -- now frisking about Ben atthe risk of getting his tail chopped off, then trottingaway to poke his inquisitive nose into every closetand room whither he followed Mrs. Moss in her "flyinground" evolutions; next dragging off the matso Betty could brush the door-steps, or inspectingBab's dish-washing by standing on his hind-legs tosurvey the table with a critical air. When they drovehim out he was not the least offended, but gaylybarked Puss up a tree, chased all the hens over thefence, and carefully interred an old shoe in the garden,where the remains of the mutton-bone were already buried.
 
　　By the time the others were ready, he had workedoff his superfluous spirits, and trotted behind the partylike a well-behaved dog accustomed to go out walking withladies. At the cross-roads they separated,the little girls running on to school, while Mrs. Mossand Ben went up to the Squire's big house on thehill.
 
　　"Don't you be scared, child. I'LL make it all rightabout your running away; and if the Squire givesyou a job, just thank him for it, and do your best tobe steady and industrious; then you'll get on, Ihaven't a doubt," she whispered, ringing the Ben ata side-door, on which the word "Morris" shone inbright letters.
 
　　"Come in!" called a gruff voice; and, feeling verymuch as if he were going to have a tooth out, Benmeekly followed the good woman, who put on herpleasantest smile, anxious to make the best possibleimpression.
 
　　A white-headed old gentleman sat reading a paper,and peered over his glasses at the new-comers with apair of sharp eyes, saying in a testy tone, which wouldhave rather daunted any one who did not know what akind heart he had under his capacious waistcoat, --"Good-morning, ma'am. What's the matter now?
 
　　Young tramp been stealing your chickens?""Oh, dear no, sir! " exclaimed Mrs. Moss, as ifshocked at the idea. Then, in a few words, she toldBen's story, unconsciously making his wrongs anddestitution so pathetic by her looks and tones, thatthe Squire could not help being interested, and evenBen pitied himself as if he were somebody else.
 
　　"Now, then, boy, what can you do?" asked theold gentleman, with an approving nod to Mrs. Mossas she finished, and such a keen glance from underhis bushy brows that Ben felt as if be was perfectlytransparent.
 
　　"'Most any thing, sir, to get my livin'.""Can you weed ? ""Never did, but I can learn, sir.""Pull up all the beets and leave the pigweed, hey?
 
　　Can you pick strawberries?""Never tried any thing but eatin' 'em, sir,""Not likely to forget that part of the job. Canyou ride a horse to plow?""Guess I could, sir!" -- and Ben's eyes began tosparkle, for he dearly loved the noble animals whohad been his dearest friends lately.
 
　　"No antics allowed. My horse is a fine fellow,and I'm very particular about him."The Squire spoke soberly, but there was a twinklein his eye, and Mrs. Moss tried not to smile; for theSquire's horse was a joke all over the town, beingabout twenty years old, and having a peculiar gait ofhis own, lifting his fore-feet very high, with a greatshow of speed, though never going out of a jog-trot.
 
　　The boys used to say he galloped before and walkedbehind, and made all sorts of fun of the big, Roman-nosed beast, who allowed no liberties to be takenwith him.
 
　　"I'm too fond of horses to hurt 'em, Sir. As forridin', I ain't afraid of any thing on four legs. TheKing of Morocco used to kick and bite like fun, butI could manage him first-rate.""Then you'd be able to drive cows to pasture,perhaps?""I've drove elephants and camels, ostriches andgrizzly bears, and mules, and six yellow ponies all tooncet. May be I could manage cows if I tried hard,"answered Ben, endeavoring to be meek and respectfulwhen scorn filled his soul at the idea of not beingable to drive a cow.
 
　　The Squire liked him all the better for the drollmixture of indignation and amusement betrayed bythe fire in his eyes and the sly smile round his lips; and beingrather tickled by Ben's list of animals, he answered gravely, --"Don't raise elephants and camels much roundhere. Bears used to be plenty, but folks got tired ofthem. Mules are numerous, but we have the two-legged kind;and as a general thing prefer Shanghae fowls to ostriches."He got no farther, for Ben laughed out so infectiously that boththe others joined him; and somehow that jolly laugh seemed tosettle matters than words. As they stopped, the Squire tapped onthe window behind him, saying, with an attempt atthe former gruffness, --"We'll try you on cows awhile. My man willshow you where to drive them, and give you someodd jobs through the day. I'll see what you aregood for, and send you word to-night, Mrs. Moss.
 
　　The boy can sleep at your house, can't he?""Yes, indeed, sir. He can go on doing it, andcome up to his work just as well as not. I can seeto him then, and he won't be a care to any one," saidMrs. Moss, heartily.
 
　　"I'll make inquiries concerning your father, boy;meantime mind what you are about, and have a goodreport to give when he comes for you," returned theSquire, with a warning wag of a stern fore-finger.
 
　　"Thanky', sir. I will, sir. Father'll come just assoon as he can, if he isn't sick or lost," murmuredBen, inwardly thanking his stars that he had not doneany thing to make him quake before that awful finger,and resolved that he never would.
 
　　Here a red-headed Irishman came to the door, andstood eying the boy with small favor while the Squiregave his orders.
 
　　"Pat, this lad wants work. He's to take the cowsand go for them. Give him any light jobs you have,and let me know if he's good for any thing.""Yis, your honor. Come out o' this, b'y, till Ishow ye the bastes," responded Pat; and, with ahasty good-by to Mrs. Moss, Ben followed his newleader, sorely tempted to play some naughty trickupon him in return for his ungracious reception.
 
　　But in a moment he forgot that Pat existed, forin the yard stood the Duke of Wellington, so namedin honor of his Roman nose. If Ben had known anything about Shakespeare, he would have cried, "Ahorse, a horse! my kingdom for a horse!" for thefeeling was in his heart, and he ran up to the statelyanimal without a fear. Duke put back his ears andswished his tail as if displeased for a moment; butBen looked straight in his eyes, gave a scientificstroke to the iron-gray nose, and uttered a chirrupwhich made the ears prick up as if recognizing afamiliar sound.
 
　　"He'll nip ye, if ye go botherin' that way. Leavehim alone, and attend to the cattle as his honor toldye," commanded Pat, who made a great show ofrespect toward Duke in public, and kicked himbrutally in private.
 
　　"I ain't afraid! You won't hurt me, will you, oldfeller? See there now! -- he knows I 'm a friend, andtakes to me right off," said Ben, with an arm aroundDuke's neck, and his own cheek confidingly laidagainst the animal's; for the intelligent eyes spoke tohim as plainly as the little whinny which he understoodand accepted as a welcome.
 
　　The Squire saw it all from the open window, andsuspecting from Pat's face that trouble was brewing,called out, --"Let the lad harness Duke, if he can. I'm goingout directly, and he may as well try that as anything."Ben was delighted, and proved himself so brisk andhandy that the roomy chaise stood at the door in asurprisingly short time, with a smiling little ostler atDuke's head when the Squire came out.
 
　　His affection for the horse pleased the old gentleman,and his neat way of harnessing suited as well;but Ben got no praise, except a nod and a brief "Allright, boy," as the equipage went creaking and jogging away.
 
　　Four sleek cows filed out of the barnyard when Patopened the gate, and Ben drove them down the roadto a distant pasture where the early grass awaitedtheir eager cropping. By the school they went, andthe boy looked pityingly at the black, brown, andyellow heads bobbing past the windows as a classwent up to recite; for it seemed a hard thing to theliberty-loving lad to be shut up there so many hourson a morning like that.
 
　　But a little breeze that was playing truant roundthe steps did Ben a service without knowing it, for asudden puff blew a torn leaf to his feet, and seeing apicture he took it up. It evidently had fallen fromsome ill-used history, for the picture showed somequeer ships at anchor, some oddly dressed men justlanding, and a crowd of Indians dancing about onthe shore. Ben spelt out all be could about theseinteresting personages, but could not discover what itmeant, because ink evidently had deluged the page,to the new reader's great disappointment.
 
　　"I'll ask the girls; may be they will know," saidBen to himself as, after looking vainly for more strayleaves, he trudged on, enjoying the bobolink's song,the warm sunshine, and a comfortable sense of friendlinessand safety, which soon set him to whistling asgayly as any blackbird in the meadow.
Chapter 6 A Circulating Library
     After supper that night, Bab and Betty satin the old porch playing with Josephus andBelinda, and discussing the events of theday; for the appearance of the strange boy and hisdog had been a most exciting occurrence in theirquiet lives. They had seen nothing of him sincemorning, as he took his meals at the Squire's, andwas at work with Pat in a distant field when the childrenpassed. Sancho had stuck closely to his master,evidently rather bewildered by the new order ofthings, and bound to see that no harm happened toBen.
 
　　"I wish they'd come. It's sundown, and I heardthe cows mooing, so I know they have gone home,"said Betty, impatiently; for she regarded the new-comerin the light of an entertaining book, and wishedto read on as fast as possible.
 
　　"I'm going to learn the signs he makes when hewants Sancho to dance; then we can have fun withhim whenever we like. He's the dearest dog I eversaw!" answered Bab, who was fonder of animals thanher sister.
 
　　"Ma said -- Ow, what's that?" cried Betty with astart, as something bumped against the gate outside;and in a moment Ben's head peeped over the top ashe swung himself up to the iron arch, in the middleof which was the empty lantern frame.
 
　　"Please to locate, gentlemen; please to locate.
 
　　The performance is about to begin with the greatFlyin' Coopid act, in which Master Bloomsbury hasappeared before the crowned heads of Europe.
 
　　Pronounced by all beholders the most remarkable youthfulprogidy agoin'. Hooray ! here we are!"Having rattled off the familiar speech in Mr.
 
　　Smithers's elegant manner, Ben begin to cut up suchcapers that even a party of dignified hens, goingdown the avenue to bed, paused to look on withclucks of astonishment, evidently fancying that salthad set him to fluttering and tumbling as it did them.
 
　　Never had the old gate beheld such antics, though ithad seen gay doings in its time; for of all the boyswho had climbed over it, not one had ever stoodon his head upon each of the big balls which ornamentedthe posts, hung by his heels from the arch,gone round and round like a wheel with the bar foran axis, played a tattoo with his toes while holdingon by his chin, walked about the wall on his hands,or closed the entertainment by festooning himselfin an airy posture over the side of the lantern frame,and kissing his hand to the audience as a well-bredCupid is supposed to do on making his bow.
 
　　The little girls clapped and stamped enthusiastically,while Sancho, who had been calmly surveying theshow, barked his approval as he leaped up to snap atBen's feet.
 
　　"Come down and tell what you did up at theSquire's. Was he cross? Did you have to workhard? Do you like it?" asked Bab, when the noisehad subsided.
 
　　"It's cooler up here," answered Ben, composinghimself in the frame, and fanning his hot face with agreen spray broken from the tall bushes rustling odorouslyall about him. "I did all sorts of jobs. Theold gentleman wasn't cross; he gave me a dime, andI like him first-rate. But I just hate 'Carrots; ' heswears at a feller, and fired a stick of wood at me.
 
　　Guess I'll pay him off when I get a chance."Fumbling in his pocket to show the bright dime, hefound the torn page, and remembered the thirst forinformation which had seized him in the morning.
 
　　"Look here, tell me about this, will you? Whatare these chaps up to? The ink has spoilt all but thepicture and this bit of reading. I want to know whatit means. Take it to 'em, Sanch."The dog caught the leaf as it fluttered to the ground,and carrying it carefully in his mouth, deposited it atthe feet of the little girls, seating himself before themwith an air of deep interest. Bab and Betty picked itup and read it aloud in unison, while Ben leaned fromhis perch to listen and learn.
 
　　"'When day dawned,land was visible. A pleasantland it was. There were gay flowers, and tall treeswith leaves and fruit, such as they had never seen before.
 
　　On the shore were unclad copper-colored men,gazing with wonder at the Spanish ships. They tookthem for great birds, the white sails for their wings,and the Spaniards for superior beings brought downfrom heaven on their backs.""Why, that's Columbus finding San Salvador.
 
　　Don't you know about him?" demanded Bab, as ifshe were one of the "superior beings," and intimatelyacquainted with the immortal Christopher.
 
　　"No, I don't. Who was he any way? I s'posethat's him paddlin' ahead; but which of the Injuns isSam Salvindoor?" asked Ben, rather ashamed of hisignorance, but bent on finding out now he had begun.
 
　　"My gracious! twelve years old and not know yourQuackenbos!" laughed Bab, much amused, but ratherglad to find that she could teach the "whirligigboy" something, for she considered him a remarkablecreature.
 
　　"I don't care a bit for your quackin' boss, whoeverhe is. Tell about this fine feller with the ships; Ilike him," persisted Ben.
 
　　So Bab, with frequent interruptions and hints fromBetty, told the wonderful tale in a simple way, whichmade it easy to understand; for she liked history, andhad a lively tongue of her own.
 
　　"I'd like to read some more. Would my ten centsbuy a book?" asked Ben, anxious to learn a littlesince Bab laughed at him.
 
　　"No, indeed! I'll lend you mine when I'm notusing it, and tell you all about it," promised Bab;forgetting that she did not know "all about it" herselfyet.
 
　　"I don't have any time only evenings, and thenmay be you'II want it," begun Ben, in whom the inkypage had roused a strong curiosity.
 
　　"I do get my history in the evening, but you couldhave it mornings before school.""I shall have to go off early, so there won't be anychance. Yes, there will, -- I'LL tell you how to do it.
 
　　Let me read while I drive up the cows. Squire likes'em to eat slow along the road, so's to keep the grassshort and save mowin'. Pat said so, and I could dohistory instead of loafin' round!" cried Ben full ofthis bright idea.
 
　　"How will I get my book back in time to recite?"asked Bab, prudently.
 
　　"Oh, I'll leave it on the window-sill, or put it insidethe door as I go back. I'll be real careful, and justas soon as I earn enough, I'll buy you a new one andtake the old one. Will you?""Yes; but I'll tell you a nicer way to do. Don'tput the book on the window, 'cause teacher will seeyou; or inside the door, 'cause some one may stealit. You put it in my cubby-houae, right at the cornerof the wall nearest the big maple. You'll find acunning place between the roots that stick up underthe flat stone. That's my closet, and I keep thingsthere. It's the best cubby of all, and we take turnsto have it.""I'll find it, and that'll be a first-rate place," saidBen, much gratified.
 
　　"I could put my reading-book in sometimes, ifyou'd like it. There's lots of pretty stories in it andpictures," proposed Betty, rather timidly; for shewanted to share the benevolent project, but had littleto offer, not being as good a scholar as Bab.
 
　　"I'd like a 'rithmetic better. I read tip-top, but Iain't much on 'rithmetic"; so, if you can spare yours,I might take a look at it. Now I'm goin' to earnwages, I ought to know about addin' 'em up, and soon," said Ben, with the air of a Vanderbilt oppressedwith the care of millions.
 
　　"I'll teach you that. Betty doesn't know muchabout sums. But she spells splendidly, and is alwaysat the head of her class. Teacher is real proud of her,'cause she never misses, and spells hard, fussy words,like chi-rog-ra-phy and bron-chi-tis as easy as anything.
 
　　Bab quite beamed with sisterly pride, and Bettysmoothed down her apron with modest satisfaction,for Bab seldom praised her, and she liked it verymuch.
 
　　"I never went to school, so that's the reason I ain'tsmart. I can write, though, better 'n some of the boysup at school. I saw lots of names on the shed door.
 
　　See here, now," -- and scrambling down, Ben pulledout a cherished bit of chalk, and flourished off tenletters of the alphabet, one on each of the dark stoneslabs that paved the walk.
 
　　"Those are beautiful! I can't make such curlyones. Who taught you to do it? " asked Bab, as sheand Betty walked up and down admiring them.
 
　　"Horse blankets," answered Ben, soberly.
 
　　"What!" cried both girls, stopping to stare.
 
　　"Our horses all had their names on their blankets,and I used to copy 'em. The wagons had signs, and Ilearned to read that way after father taught me myletters off the red and yellow posters. First word Iknew was lion, 'cause I was always goin' to see oldJubal in his cage. Father was real proud when I readit right off. I can draw one, too."Ben proceeded to depict an animal intended torepresent his lost friend; but Jubal would not haverecognized his portrait, since it looked much morelike Sancho than the king of the forest. The childrenadmired it immensely, however, and Ben gave thema lesson in natural history which was so interestingthat it kept them busy and happy till bedtime; forthe boy described what he had seen in such livelylanguage, and illustrated in such a droll way, it wasno wonder they were charmed.
Chapter 7 New Friends Trot In
     Next day Ben ran off to his work withQuackenbos's "Elementary History of theUnited States" in his pocket, and theSquire's cows had ample time to breakfast on way-side grass before they were put into their pasture.
 
　　Even then the pleasant lesson was not ended, forBen had an errand to town; and all the way he readbusily, tumbling over the hard words, and leavingbits which he did not understand to be explained atnight by Bab.
 
　　At "The First Settlements" he had to stop, for theschoolhouse was reached, and the book must be returned.
 
　　The maple-tree closet was easily found, anda little surprise hidden under the flat stone; for Benpaid two sticks of red and white candy for the privilegeof taking books from the new library.
 
　　When recess came, great was the rejoicing of thechildren over their unexpected treat, for Mrs. Mosshad few pennies to spare for sweets, and, somehow,this candy tasted particularly nice, bought out ofgrateful Ben's solitary dime. The little giris sharedtheir goodies with their favorite mates, but saidnothing about the new arrangement, fearing it wouldbe spoilt if generally known. They told their mother,however, and she gave them leave to lend their booksand encourage Ben to love learning all they could.
 
　　She also proposed that they should drop patch-work,and help her make some blue shirts for Ben. Mrs.
 
　　Barton had given her the materials, and she thoughtit would be an excellent lesson in needle-work as wellas a useful gift to Ben, -- who, boy-like, never troubledhimself as to what he should wear when his one suitof clothes gave out.
 
　　Wednesday afternoon was the sewing time; so thetwo little B's worked busily at a pair of shirt-sleeves,sitting on their bench in the doorway, while the rustyneedles creaked in and out, and the childish voicessang school-songs, with frequent stoppages for livelychatter.
 
　　For a week, Ben worked away bravely, and nevershirked nor complained, although Pat put many ahard or disagreeable job upon him, and chores grewmore and more distasteful. His only comfort wasthe knowledge that Mrs. Moss and the Squire weresatisfied with him; his only pleasure the lessons helearned while driving the cows, and recited in the eveningwhen the three children met under the lilacsto " play school."He had no thought of studying when he began,and hardly knew that he was doing it as he poredover the different books he took from the library.
 
　　But the little girls tried him with all they Possessed,and he was mortified to find how ignorant he was.
 
　　He never owned it in words, but gladly acceptedall the bits of knowledge they offered from their small store;getting Betty to hear him spell "just forfun;" agreeing to draw Bab all the bears and tigersshe wanted if she would show him how to do sumson the flags, and often beguiled his lonely labors bytrying to chant the multiplication table as they did.
 
　　When Tuesday night came round, the Squire paidhim a dollar, said he was "a likely boy," and mightstay another week if he chose. Ben thanked him andthought he would; but the next morning, after hehad put up the bars, he remained sitting on the toprail to consider his prospects, for he felt uncommonlyreluctant to go back to the society of rough Pat.
 
　　Like most boys, he hated work, unless it was of asort which just suited him; then he could toil like abeaver and never tire. His wandering life had givenhim no habits of steady industry; and, while he wasan unusually capable lad of his age, he dearly lovedto "loaf" about and have a good deal of variety andexcitement in his life.
 
　　Now he saw nothing before him but days of patientand very uninteresting labor. He was heartily sickof weeding; even riding Duke before the cultivatorhad lost its charms, and a great pile of wood lay inthe Squire's yard which he knew he would be setto piling up in the shed. Strawberry-picking wouldsoon follow the asparagus cultivation; then haying;and and so on all the long bright summer, without anyfun, unless his father came for him.
 
　　On the other hand, he was not obliged to stay aminute longer unless he liked. With a comfortablesuit of clothes, a dollar in his pocket, and a row ofdinner-baskets hanging in the school-house entry tosupply him with provisions if he didn't mind stealingthem, what was easier than to run away again?
 
　　Tramping has its charms in fair weather, and Benhad lived like a gypsy under canvas for years; so hefeared nothing, and began to look down the leafy roadwith a restless, wistful expression, as the temptationgrew stronger and stronger every minute.
 
　　Sancho seemed to share the longing, for he keptrunning off a little way and stopping to frisk andbark; then rushed back to sit watching his masterwith those intelligent eyes of his, which seemed tosay, "Come on, Ben, let us scamper down this pleasantroad and never stop till we are tired." Swallowsdarted by, white clouds fled before the balmy westwind, a squirrel ran along the wall, and all thingsseemed to echo the boy's desire to leave toil behindand roam away as care-free as they. One thing restrainedhim, the thought of his seeming ingratitudeto good Mrs. Moss, and the disappointment of thelittle girls at the loss of their two new play-fellows.
 
　　While he paused to think of this, something happenedwhich kept him from doing what he would have beensure to regret afterward.
 
　　Horses had always been his best friends, and onecame trotting up to help him now; though he didnot know how much he owed it till long after. Justin the act of swinging himself over the bars to take ashortcut across the fields, the sound of approachinghoofs, unaccompanied by the roll of wheels, caughthis ear; and, pausing, he watched eagerly to see whowas coming at such a pace.
 
　　At the turn of road, however, the quick trotstopped, and in a moment a lady on a bay mare camepacing slowly into sight, -- a young and pretty lady,all in dark blue, with a bunch of dandelions likeyellow stars in her button-hole, and a silver-handledwhip hanging from the pommel of her saddle, evidentlymore for ornament than use. The handsomemare limped a little, and shook her head as if somethingplagued her; while her mistress leaned downto see what was the matter, saying, as if she expectedan answer of some sort,--"Now, Chevalita, if you have got a stone in yourfoot, I shall have to get off and take it out. Whydon't you look where you step, and save me all thistrouble?""I'll look for you, ma'am; I'd like to!" said aneager voice so unexpectedly, that both horse and riderstarted as a boy came down the bank with a jump.
 
　　"I wish you would. You need not be afraid; Litais as gentle as a lamb," answered the young lady,smilint, as if amused by the boy's earnestness.
 
　　"She's a beauty, any way," muttered Ben, liftingone foot after another till he found the stone, andwith some trouble got it out.
 
　　"That was nicely done, and I'm much obliged.
 
　　Can you tell me if that cross-road leads to theElms?" asked the lady, as she went slowly on withBen beside her.
 
　　"No, ma'am; I'm new in these parts, and I onlyknow where Squire Morris and Mrs. Moss live.""I want to see both of them, so suppose you showme the way. I was here long ago, and thought Ishould remember how to find the old house with theelm avenue and the big gate, but I don't.""I know it; they call that place the Laylocks now,'cause there's a hedge of 'em all down the path andfront wall. It's a real pretty place; Bab and Bettyplay there, and so do I."Ben could not restrain a chuckle at the recollectionof his first appearance there, and, as if his merrimentor his words interested her, the lady said pleasantly,"Tell me all about it. Are Bab and Betty your sisters?"Quite forgetting his intended tramp, Ben plungedinto a copious history of himself and new-madefriends, led on by a kind look, an inquiring word,and sympathetic smile, till he had told every thing.
 
　　At the school-house corner he stopped and said,spreading his arms like a sign-post, --"That's the way to the Laylocks, and this is theway to the Squire's.""As I'm in a hurry to see the old house, I'll gothis way first, if you will be kind enough to give mylove to Mrs. Morris, and tell the Squire Miss Celia iscoming to dine with him. I won't say good-by,because I shall see you again."With a nod and a smile, the young lady canteredaway, and Ben hurried up the hill to deliver hismessage, feeling as if something pleasant was goingto happen; so it would be wise to defer running away,for the present at least.
 
　　At one o'clock Miss Celia arrived, and Ben had thedelight of helping Pat stable pretty Chevalita; then,his own dinner hastily eaten, he fell to work at thedetested wood-pile with sudden energy; for as heworked he could steal peeps into the dining-room,and see the curly brown head between the two gayones, as the three sat round the table. He could nothelp hearing a word now and then, as the windowswere open, and these bits of conversation filled himwith curiosity for the names "Thorny," Celia,"and "George" were often repeated, and an occasionalmerry laugh from the young lady sounded like musicin that usually quiet place.
 
　　When dinner was over, Ben's industrious fit lefthim, and he leisurely trundled his barrow to and frotill the guest departed. There was no chance forhim to help now, since Pat, anxious to get whatevertrifle might be offered for his services, was quitedevoted in his attentions to the mare and her mistress,till she was mounted and off. But Miss Celiadid not forget her little guide, and, spying a wistfulface behind the wood-pile, paused at the gate andbeckoned with that winning smile of hers. If tenPats had stood scowling in the way, Ben would havedefied them all; and, vaulting over the fence, he ranup with a shining face, hoping she wanted some lastfavor of him. Leaning down, Miss Celia slipped anew quarter into his hand, saying,"Lita wants me to give you this for taking thestone out of her foot.""Thank y', ma'am; I liked to do it, for I hate tosee 'em limp, 'specially such a pretty one as she is,"answered Ben, stroking the glossy neck with a lovingtouch.
 
　　"The Squire says you know a good deal abouthorses, so I suppose you understand the Houyhnhnmlanguage? I'm learning it, and it is very nice,"laughed Miss Celia, as Chevalita gave a little whinnyand snuffled her nose into Ben's pocket.
 
　　"No, miss, I never went to school.""That is not taught there. I'll bring you a bookall about it when I come back. Mr. Gulliver went tothe horse-country and heard the dear things speaktheir own tongue.""My father has been on the prairies, where there'slots of wild ones, but he didn't hear 'em speak. Iknow what they want without talkin'," answered Ben,suspecting a joke, but not exactly seeing what it was.
 
　　"I don't doubt it, but I won't forget the book.
 
　　Good-by, my lad, we shall soon meet again," andaway went Miss Celia as if she were in a hurry toget back.
 
　　"If she only had a red habit and a streamin' whitefeather, she'd look as fine as 'Melia used to. She is'most as kind and rides 'most as well. Wonderwhere she's goin' to. Hope she will come soon,"thought Ben, watching till the last flutter of the bluehabit vanished round the corner; and then he wentback to his work with his head full of the promisedbook, pausing now and then to chink the two silverhalves and the new quarter together in his pocket,wondering what be should buy with this vast sum.
 
　　Bab and Betty meantime had had a most excitingday; for when they went home at noon they foundthe pretty lady there, and she had talked to themlike an old friend, given them a ride on the littlehorse, and kissed them both good-by when they wentback to school. In the afternoon the lady was gone,the old house all open, and their mother sweeping,airing, in great spirits. So they had a splendidfrolic tumbling on feather-beds, beating bitsof carpet, opening closets, and racing from garret tocellar like a pair of distracted kittens.
 
　　Here Ben found them, and was at once overwhelmedwith a burst of news which excited him asmuch as it did them. Miss Celia owned the house,was coming to liver there, and things were to be madeready as soon as possible. All thought the prospecta charming one: Mrs. Moss, because life had beendull for her during the year she had taken charge ofthe old house; the little girls had heard rumors ofvarious pets who were coming; and Ben, learningthat a boy and a donkey were among them, resolvedthat nothing but the arrival of his father should tearhim from this now deeply interesting spot.
 
　　"I'm in such a hurry to see the peacocks and hearthem scream. She said they did, and that we'd laughwhen old Jack brayed," cried Bab, hopping about onone foot to work off her impatience.
 
　　"Is a faytun a kind of a bird? I heard her sayshe could keep it in the coach-house," asked Betty,inquiringly.
 
　　"It's a little carriage," and Ben rolled in the grass,much tickled at poor Betty's ignorance.
 
　　"Of course it is. I looked it out in the dic., andyou mustn't call it a payton, though it is spelt witha p," added Bab, who liked to lay down the law onall occasions, and did not mention that she had lookedvainly among the Vs till a school-mate set her right.
 
　　"You can't tell me much about carriages. But whatI want to know is where Lita will stay?" said Ben.
 
　　"Oh, she's to be up at the Squire's till things arefixed, and you are to bring her down. Squire cameand told Ma all about it, and said you were a boy tobe trusted, for he had tried you."Ben made no answer, but secretly thanked his starsthat he had not proved himself untrustworthy by runningaway, and so missing all this fun.
 
　　"Won't it be fine to have the house open all thetime? We can run over and see the pictures andbooks whenever we like. I know we can, Miss Celia isso kind," began Betty, who cared for these things morethan for screaming peacocks and comical donkeys.
 
　　"Not unless you are invited," answered theirmother, locking the front door behind her. "You'dbetter begin to pick up your duds right away, for shewon't want them cluttering round her front yard. Ifyou are not too tired, Ben, you might rake round alittle while I shut the blinds. I want things to looknice and tidy."Two little groans went up from two afflicted littlegirls as they looked about them at the shady bower,the dear porch, and the winding walks where theyloved to run "till their hair whistled in the wind," asthe fairy-books say.
 
　　"Whatever shall we do! Our attic is so hot andthe shed so small, and the yard always full of hensor clothes. We shall have to pack all our thingsaway, and never play any more," said Bab, tragically.
 
　　"May be Ben could build us a little house in theorchard," proposed Betty, who firmly believed thatBen could do any thing.
 
　　"He won't have any time. Boys don't care forbaby-houses," returned Bab, collecting her homelessgoods and chattels with a dismal face.
 
　　"We sha'n't want these much when all the newthings come; see if we do," said cheerful little Betty,who always found out a silver lining to every cloud.
Chapter 8 Miss Celia's Man
     Ben was not too tired, and the clearing-up began that verynight. None too soon, for in a day or two things arrived,to the great delight of the children, who considered movinga most interesting play. First came the phaeton, which Benspent all his leisure moments in admiring; wonderingwith secret envy what happy boy would ride in thelittle seat up behind, and beguiling his tasks by planninghow, when he got rich, he would pass his timedriving about in just such an equipage, and invitingall the boys he met to have a ride.
 
　　Then a load of furniture came creaking in at thelodge gate, and the girls had raptures over a cottagepiano, several small chairs, and a little low table, whichthey pronounced just the thing for them to play at.
 
　　The live stock appeared next, creating a great stirin the neighborhood, for peacocks were rare birdsthere; the donkey's bray startled the cattle and convulsedthe people with laughter; the rabbits werecontinually getting out to burrow in the newly madegarden; and Chevalita scandalized old Duke bydancing about the stable which he had inhabited foryears in stately solitude.
 
　　Last but by no means least, Miss Celia, her houngbrother, and two maids arrived one evening so latethat only Mrs. Moss went over to help them settle.
 
　　The children were much disappointed, but were appeasedby a promise that they should all go to paytheir respects in the morning.
 
　　They were up so early, and were so impatient to beoff, that Mrs. Moss let them go with the warning thatthey would find only the servants astir. She was mistaken,however, for, as the procession approached, avoice from the porch called out, "Good-morninglittle neighbors!" so unexpectedly, that Bab nearlyspilt the new milk she carried, Betty gave such a startthat the fresh-laid eggs quite skipped in the dish, andBen's face broke into a broad grin over the armful ofclover which he brought for the bunnies, as he bobbedhis head, saying briskly, --"She's all right, miss, Lita is; and I can bring herover any minute you say.""I shall want her at four o'clock. Thorny willbe too tired to drive, but I must hear from thepost-office, rain or shine;" and Miss Celia's prettycolor brightened as she spoke, either from somehappy thought or because she was bashful, for thehonest young faces before her plainly showed theiradmiration of the white-gowned lady under thehoneysuckles.
 
　　The appearance of Miranda, the maid, reminded thechildren of their errand; and having delivered theirofferings, they were about to retire in some confusion,when Miss Celia said pleasantly, --"I want to thank you for helping put things in suchnice order. I see signs of busy hands and feet bothinside the house and all about the grounds, and Iam very much obliged.""I raked the beds," said Ben, proudly eying theneat ovals and circles.
 
　　"I swept all the paths," added Bab, with a reproachfulglance at several green sprigs fallen fromthe load of clover on the smooth walk.
 
　　"I cleared up the porch," and Betty's clean pinaforerose and fell with a long sigh, as she surveyed the latesummer residence of her exiled family.
 
　　Miss Celia guessed the meaning of that sigh, andmade haste to turn it into a smile by asking anxiously, --"What has become of the playthings? I don't seethem anywhere.""Ma said you wouldn't want our duds round,so we took them all home," answered Betty, with awistful face.
 
　　"But I do want them round. I like dolls and toysalmost as much as ever, and quite miss the little 'duds'
 
　　from porch and path. Suppose you come to tea withme to-night and bring some of them back? I shouldbe very sorry to rob you of your pleasant play-place.""Oh, yes, 'm, we'd love to come! and we'll bringour best things.""Ma always lets us have our shiny pitchers and thechina poodle when we go visiting or have company athome," said Bab and Betty, both speaking at once.
 
　　"Bring what you like, and I'll hunt up my toys,too. Ben is to come also, and his poodle is especiallyinvited," added Miss Celia, as Sancho came andbegged before her, feeling that some agreeable projectwas under discussion.
 
　　"Thank you, miss. I told them you'd be willingthey should come sometimes. They like this placeever so much, and so do I," said Ben, feeling thatfew spots combined so many advantages in the way ofclimbable trees, arched gates, half-a-dozen gables, andother charms suited to the taste of an aspiring youthwho had been a flying Cupid at the age of seven.
 
　　"So do I," echoed Miss Celia, heartily. "Ten yearsago I came here a little girl, and made lilac chainsunder these very bushes, and picked chickweed overthere for my bird, and rode Thorny in his baby-wagonup and down these paths. Grandpa lived here then,and we had fine times; but now they are all goneexcept us two.""We haven't got any father, either," said Bab, forsomething in Miss Celia's face made her feel as if acloud had come over the sun.
 
　　"I have a first-rate father, if I only knew wherehe'd gone to," said Ben, looking down the path aseagerly as if one waited for him behind the locked gate.
 
　　"You are a rich boy, and you are happy little girlsto have so good a mother; I've found that out already,"and the sun shone again as the young ladynodded to the neat, rosy children before her.
 
　　"You may have a piece of her if you want to, 'causeyou haven't got any of your own," said Betty with apitiful look which made her blue eyes as sweet as twowet violets.
 
　　"So I will ! and you shall be my little sisters. Inever had any, and I'd love to try how it seems;"and Celia took both the chubby hands in hers,feeling ready to love every one this first bright morningin the new home, which she hoped to make a veryhappy one.
 
　　Bab gave a satisfied nod, and fell to examining therings upon the white hand that held her own. ButBetty put her arms about the new friend's neck, andkissed her so softly that the hungry feeling in MissCelia's heart felt better directly; for this was the foodit wanted, and Thorny had not learned yet to returnone half of the affection he received. Holding thechild close, she played with the yellow braids whileshe told them about the little German girls in theirfunny black-silk caps, short-waisted gowns, and woodenshoes, whom she used to see watering long webs oflinen bleaching on the grass, watching great flocks ofgeese, or driving pigs to market, knitting or spinningas they went.
 
　　Presently "Randa," as she called her stout maid,came to tell her that "Master Thorny couldn't waitanother minute;" and she went in to breakfast witha good appetite, while the children raced home tobounce in upon Mrs. Moss, talking all at once likelittle lunatics.
 
　　"The phaeton at four, -- so sweet in a beautifulwhite gown, -- going to tea, and Sancho and all thebaby things invited. Can't we wear our Sundayfrocks? A splendid new net for Lita. And she likesdolls. Goody, goody, won't it be fun!"With much difficulty their mother got a clear accountof the approaching festivity out of the eagermouths, and with still more diffculty, got breakfastinto them, for the children had few pleasures, and thisbrilliant prospect rather turned their heads.
 
　　Bab and Betty thought the day would never end,and cheered the long hours by expatiating on thepleasures in store for them, till their playmates weremuch afflicted because they were not going also. Atnoon their mother kept them from running over tothe old house lest they should be in the way; so theyconsoled themselves by going to the syringa bush atthe corner and sniffing the savory odors which camefrom the kitchen, where Katy, the cook, was evidentlymaking nice things for tea.
 
　　Ben worked as if for a wager till four; then stoodover Pat while he curried Lita till her coat shone likesatin, then drove her gently down to the coach-house,where he had the satisfaction of harnessing her "allhis own self".
 
　　"Shall I go round to the great gate and wait foryou there, miss?" he asked, when all was ready,looking up at the porch, where the young lady stoodwatching him as she put on her gloves.
 
　　"No, Ben, the great gate is not to be opened tillnext October. I shall go in and out by the lodge, andleave the avenue to grass and dandelions, meantime,"answered Miss Celia, as she stepped in and took thereins, with a sudden smile.
 
　　But she did not start, even when Ben had shakenout the new duster and laid it neatly over her knees.
 
　　"Isn't it all right now?" asked the boy, anxiously.
 
　　"Not quite; I need one thing more. Can't youguess what it is?" and Miss Celia watched hisanxious face as his eyes wandered from the tips ofLita's ears to the hind-wheel of the phaeton, tryingto discover what had been omitted.
 
　　"No, miss, I don't see -- " he began, much mortifiedto think he had forgotten any thing.
 
　　"Wouldn't a little groom up behind improve theappearance of my turnout?" she said, with a lookwhich left no doubt in his mind that he was to be thehappy boy to occupy that proud perch.
 
　　He grew red with pleasure, but stammered, as hehesitated, looking down at his bare feet and blueshirt, --"I ain't fit, miss; and I haven't got any otherclothes."Miss Celia only smiled again more kindly thanbefore, and answered, in a tone which he understoodbetter than her words, --"A great man said his coat-of-arms was a pair ofshirt-sleeves, and a sweet poet sang about a barefootedboy; so I need not be too proud to ride with one.
 
　　Up with you, Ben, my man, and let us be off, or weshall be late for our party."With one bound the new groom was in his place,sitting very erect, with his legs stiff, arms folded, andnose in the air, as he had seen real grooms sit behindtheir masters in fine dog-carts or carriages. Mrs.
 
　　Moss nodded as they drove past the lodge, and Bentouched his torn hat-brim in the most dignified manner,though he could not suppress a broad grin of delight,which deepened into a chuckle when Lita went off ata brisk trot along the smooth road toward town.
 
　　It takes so little to make a child happy, it is a pitygrown people do not oftener remember it and scatterlittle bits of pleasure before the small people, as theythrow crumbs to the hungry sparrows. Miss Celiaknew the boy was pleased, but he had no words inwhich to express his gratitude for the great contentmentshe had given him. He could only beam at allhe met, smile when the floating ends of the gray veilblew against his face, and long in his heart to give thenew friend a boyish hug, as he used to do his dear'Melia when she was very good to him.
 
　　School was just out as they passed; and it was aspectacle, I assure you, to see the boys and girls stareat Ben up aloft in such state; also to see the superbindifference with which that young man regarded thevulgar herd who went afoot. He couldn't resist anaffable nod to Bab and Betty, for they stood underthe maple-tree, and the memory of their circulatinglibrary made him forget his dignity in his gratitude.
 
　　"We will take them next time, but now I want totalk to you," began Miss Celia, as Lita climbed thehill. "My brother has been ill, and I have broughthim here to get well. I want to do all sorts of thingsto amuse him, and I think you can help me in manyways. Would you like to work for me instead of theSquire?
 
　　"I guess I would!" ejaculated Ben, so heartily thatno further assurances were needed, and Miss Celiawent on, well pleased: --"You see, poor Thorny is weak and fretful, anddoes not like to exert himself, though he ought to beout a great deal, and kept from thinking of his littletroubles. He cannot walk much yet, so I have awheeled chair to push him in; and the paths are so hard,it will be easy to roll him about. That will be one thingyou can do. Another is to take care of his pets till heis able to do it himself. Then you cantell him your adventures, and talk to him as only aboy can talk to a boy. That will amuse him when Iwant to write or go out; but I never leave him long,and hope he will soon be running about as well as therest of us. How does that sort of work look to you?""First-rate! I'll take real good care of the littlefeller, and do every thing I know to please him, andso will Sanch; he's fond of children," answered Ben,heartily, for the new place looked very inviting to him.
 
　　Miss Celia laughed, and rather damped his ardorby her next words.
 
　　"I don't know what Thorny would say to hear youcall him 'little.' He is fourteen, and appears to gettaller and taller every day. He seems like a child tome, because I am nearly ten years older than he is;but you needn't be afraid of his long legs and bigeyes, he is too feeble to do any harm; only youmustn't mind if he orders you about.""I'm used to that. I don't mind it if he won't callme a 'spalpeen,' and fire things at me," said Ben,thinking of his late trials with Pat.
 
　　"I can promise that; and I am sure Thorny willlike you, for I told him your story, and he is anxiousto see 'the circus boy' as he called you. SquireAllen says I may trust you, and I am glad to do so,for it saves me much trouble to find what I want allready for me. You shall be well fed and clothed,kindly treated and honestly paid, if you like to staywith me.""I know I shall like it -- till father comes, anyway.
 
　　Squire wrote to Smithers right off, but hasn't got anyanswer yet. I know they are on the go now, so maybe we won't hear for ever so long," answered Ben,feeling less impatient to be off than before this fineproposal was made to him.
 
　　"I dare say; meantime, we will see how we get ontogether, and perhaps your father will be willingleave you for the summer if he is away. Now showme the baker's, the candy-shop, and the post-office,"said Miss Celia, as they rattled down the main streetof the village.
 
　　Ben made himself useful; and when all the othererrands were done, received his reward in the shapeof a new pair of shoes and a straw hat with a streamingblue ribbon, on the ends of which shone silveryanchors. He was also allowed to drive home, whilehis new mistress read her letters. One particularlylong one, with a queer stamp on the envelope, sheread twice, never speaking a word till they got back.
 
　　Then Ben was sent off with Lita and the Squire'sletters, promising to get his chores done in timefor tea.
Chapter 9 A Happy Tea
    Exactly five minutes before six the partyarrived in great state, for Bab and Betty woretheir best frocks and hair-ribbons, Ben hada new blue shirt and his shoes on as full-dress, andSancho's curls were nicely brushed, his frills as whiteas if just done up.
 
　　No one was visible to receive them, but the lowtable stood in the middle of the walk, with four chairsand a foot-stool around it. A pretty set of green andwhite china caused the girls to cast admiring looksupon the little cups and plates, while Ben eyed thefeast longingly, and Sancho with difficulty restrainedhimself from repeating his former naughtiness. Nowonder the dog sniffed and the children smiled, forthere was a noble display of little tarts and cakes,little biscuits and sandwiches, a pretty milk-pitchershaped like a white calla rising out of its green leaves,and a jolly little tea-kettle singing away over thespirit-lamp as cosily as you please.
 
　　"Isn't it perfectly lovely?" whispered Betty, whohad never seen any thing like it before.
 
　　"I just wish Sally could see us now," answered Bab,who had not yet forgiven her enemy.
 
　　"Wonder where the boy is," added Ben, feelingas good as any one, but rather doubtful how othersmight regard him.
 
　　Here a rumbling sound caused the guests to looktoward the garden, and in a moment Miss Celia appeared,pushing a wheeled chair, in which sat herbrother. A gay afghan covered the long legs, abroad-brimmed hat half hid the big eyes, and a discontentedexpression made the thin face as unattractive as thefretful voice, which said, complainingly, --"If they make a noise, I'll go in. Don't see whatyou asked them for.""To amuse you, dear. I know they will, if youwill only try to like them," whispered the sister, smiling,and nodding over the chair-back as she came on,adding aloud, "Such a punctual party! I am allready, however, and we will sit down at once. Thisis my brother Thornton, and we are all going to bevery good friends by-and-by. Here 's the droll dog,Thorny; isn't he nice and curly?"Now, Ben had heard what the other boy said, andmade up his mind that he shouldn't like him; andThorny had decided beforehand that he wouldn'tplay with a tramp, even if he cut capers; goboth looked decidedly cool and indifferent when MissCelia introduced them. But Sancho had better mannersand no foolish pride; he, therefore, set them a goodexample by approaching the chair, with his tail wavinglike a flag of truce, and politely presented hisruffled paw for a hearty shake.
 
　　Thorny could not resist that appeal, and patted thewhite head, with a friendly look into the affectionateeyes of the dog, saying to his sister as he did so, --"What a wise old fellow he is! It seems as if hecould almost speak, doesn't it?""He can. Say 'How do you do,' Sanch," commanded Ben,relenting at once, for he saw admiration in Thorny's face.
 
　　"Wow, wow, wow!" remarked Sancho, in a mildand conversational tone, sitting up and touching onepaw to his head, as if he saluted by taking off his hat.
 
　　Thorny laughed in spite of himself, and Miss Celiaseeing that the ice was broken, wheeled him to hisplace at the foot of the table. Then, seating the littlegirls on one side, Ben and the dog on the other, tookthe head herself and told her guests to begin.
 
　　Bab and Betty were soon chattering away to theirpleasant hostess as freely as if they had known her formonths; but the boys were still rather shy, and madeSancho the medium through which they addressedone another. The excellent beast behaved with wonderfulpropriety, sitting upon his cushion in an attitude of suchdignity that it seemed almost a libertyto offer him food.
 
　　A dish of thick sandwiches had been provided for his especialrefreshment; and, as Ben from time to time laid one on hisplate, he affected entire unconsciousness of it till the wordwas given, when it vanished at one gulp, and Sancho againappeared absorbed in deep thought.
 
　　But, having once tasted of this pleasing delicacy, itwas very hard to repress his longing for more; and, inspite of all his efforts, his nose would work, his eyekept a keen watch upon that particular dish, and histail quivered with excitement as it lay like a trainover the red cushion. At last, a moment came whentemptation proved too strong for him. Ben waslistening to something Miss Celia said; a tart layunguarded upon his plate; Sanch looked at Thornywho was watching him; Thorny nodded, Sanch gaveone wink, bolted the tart, and then gazed pensivelyup at a sparrow swinging on a twig overhead.
 
　　The slyness of the rascal tickled the boy so muchthat he pushed back his hat, clapped his hands,and burst out laughing as he had not done beforefor weeks. Every one looked round surprised, andSancho regarded them with a mildly inquiring air, asif he said, "Why this unseemly mirth, my friends?"Thorny forgot both sulks and shyness after that,and suddenly began to talk. Ben was flattered by hisinterest in the dear dog, and opened out so delightfullythat he soon charmed the other by his livelytales of circus-life. Then Miss Celia felt relieved, andevery thing went splendidly, especially the food; forthe plates were emptied several times, the little tea-potran dry twice, and the hostess was just wonderingif she ought to stop her voracious guests, when somethingoccurred which spared her that painful task.
 
　　A small boy was suddenly discovered standing inthe path behind them, regarding the company withan air of solemn interest. A pretty, well-dressed childof six, with dark hair cut short across the brow, arosy face, a stout pair of legs, left bare by the sockswhich had slipped down over the dusty little shoes.
 
　　One end of a wide sash trailed behind him, a strawhat hung at his back, his right hand firmlygrasped a small turtle, and his left a choice collectionof sticks. Before Miss Celia could speak, the strangercalmly announced his mission.
 
　　"I have come to see the peacocks.""You shall presently --" began Miss Celia, but gotno further, for the child added, coming a step nearer,--"And the wabbits.""Yes, but first won't you --""And the curly dog," continued the small voice,as another step brought the resolute young personagenearer.
 
　　"There he is."A pause, a long look; then a new demand with thesame solemn tone, the same advance.
 
　　"I wish to hear the donkey bray.""Certainly, if he will.""And the peacocks scream.""Any thing more, sir?
 
　　Having reached the table by this time, the insatiableinfant surveyed its ravaged surface, then pointed a fatlittle finger at the last cake, left for manners, and said,commandingly, --"I will have some of that.""Help yourself; and sit upon the step to eat it,while you tell me whose boy you are," said MissCelia, much amused at his proceedings.
 
　　Deliberately putting down his sticks, the child tookthe cake, and, composing himself upon the step, answeredwith his rosy mouth full, --"I am papa's boy. He makes a paper. I helphim a great deal.""What is his name?""Mr. Barlow. We live in Springfield," volunteeredthe new guest, unbending a trifle, thanks to the charmsof the cake.
 
　　"Have you a mamma, dear?""She takes naps. I go to walk then.""Without leave, I suspect. Have you no brothers orsisters to go with you?" asked Miss Celia, wonderingwhere the little runaway belonged.
 
　　"I have two brothers, Thomas Merton Barlowand Harry Sanford Barlow. I am Alfred TennysonBarlow. We don't have any girls in our house, onlyBridget.""Don't you go to school?""The boys do. I don't learn any Greeks andLatins yet. I dig, and read to mamma, and makepoetrys for her.""Couldn't you make some for me? I'm very fondof poetrys," proposed Miss Celia, seeing that thisprattle amused the children.
 
　　"I guess I couldn't make any now; I made somecoming along. I will say it to you."And, crossing his short legs, the inspired babe halfsaid, half sung the following poem: (1)"Sweet are the flowers of life,Swept o'er my happy days at home;Sweet are the flowers of lifeWhen I was a little child.
 
　　"Sweet are the flowers of lifeThat I spent with my father at home;Sweet are the flowers of lifeWhen children played about the house.
 
　　"Sweet are the flowers of lifeWhen the lamps are lighted at night;Sweet are the flowers of lifeWhen the flowers of summer bloomed.
 
　　"Sweet are the flowers of lifeDead with the snows of winter;Sweet are the flowers of lifeWhen the days of spring come on.
 
　　(1) These lines were actually composed by a six-yearold child.
 
　　"That's all of that one. I made another one whenI digged after the turtle. I will say that. It is avery pretty one," observed the poet with charmingcandor; and, taking a long breath, he tuned his littlelyre afresh:
 
　　Sweet, sweet days are passingO'er my happy home.
 
　　Passing on swift wings through the valley of life.
 
　　Cold are the days when winter comes again.
 
　　When my sweet days were passing at my happy home,Sweet were the days on the rivulet's green brink ;Sweet were the days when I read my father's books;Sweet were the winter days when bright fires are blazing.""Bless the baby! where did he get all that?" exclaimedMiss Celia, amazed; while the children giggled as Tennyson,Jr., took a bite at the turtle instead of the half-eaten cake,and then, to prevent further mistakes, crammed the unhappycreature into a diminutive pocket in the most business-like wayimaginable.
 
　　"It comes out of my head. I make lots of them,"began the imperturbable one, yielding more and moreto the social influences of the hour.
 
　　"Here are the peacocks coming to be fed," interrupted Bab, asthe handsome birds appeared with their splendid plumageglittering in the sun.
 
　　Young Barlow rose to admire; but his thirst forknowledge was not yet quenched, and he was aboutto request a song from Juno and Jupiter, when oldJack, pininng for society, put his head over the gardenwall with a tremendous bray.
 
　　This unexpected sound startled the inquiringstranger half out of his wits; for a moment the stoutlegs staggered and the solemn countenance lost itscomposure, as he whispered, with an astonished air,"Is that the way peacocks scream?"The children were in fits of laughter, and MissCelia could hardly make herself heard as she answeredmerrily, --"No, dear; that is the donkey asking you to comeand see him: will you go?
 
　　"I guess I couldn't stop now. Mamma might wantme."And, without another word, the discomfited poetprecipitately retired, leaving his cherished sticksbehind him.
 
　　Ben ran after the child to see that he came to noharm, and presently returned to report that Alfredhad been met by a servant, and gone away chanting anew verse of his poem, in which peacocks, donkeys,and "the flowers of life" were sweetly mingled.
 
　　"Now I'll show you my toys, and we';; have alittle play before it gets too late for Thorny to staywith us," said Miss Celia, as Randa carried away thetea-things and brought back a large tray full ofpicture-books, dissected maps, puzzles, games, andseveral pretty models of animals, the whole crownedwith a large doll dressed as a baby.
 
　　At sight of that, Betty stretched out her arms toreceive it with a cry of delight. Bab seized the games,and Ben was lost in admiration of the little Arab chiefprancing on the white horse, -- all saddled and bridledand fit for the fight. Thorny poked about to find acertain curious puzzle which he could put togetherwithout a mistake after long study. Even Sanchofound something to interest him; and, standing on hishind-legs, thrust his head between the boys to pawat several red and blue letters on square blocks.
 
　　"He looks as if he knew them," said Thorny,amused at the dog's eager whine and scratch.
 
　　"He does. Spell your name, Sanch;" and Ben putall the gay letters down upon the flags with a chirrupwhich set the dog's tail to wagging as he waited till thealphabet was spread before him. Then, with greatdeliberation, he pushed the letters about till he hadpicked out six; these he arranged with nose andpaw till the word "Sancho" lay before him correctlyspelt.
 
　　"Isn't that clever? Can he do any more?" criedThorny, delighted.
 
　　"Lots; that's the way he gets his livin', and minetoo," answered Ben; and proudly put his poodlethrough his well-learned lessons sith Such successthat even Miss Celia was surprised.
 
　　"He has been carefully trained. Do you know howit was done?" she asked, when Sancho lay down torest and be caressed by the children.
 
　　"No, 'm, father did it when I was a little chap, andnever told me how. I used to help teach him to dance,and that was easy enough, he is so smart. Father saidthe middle of the night was the best time to give himhis lessons; it was so still then, and nothing disturbedSanch and made him forget. I can't do half the tricks,but I'm goin' to learn when father comes back. He'drather have me show off Sanch than ride, till I'molder.""I have a charming book about animals, and in it aninteresting account of some trained poodles who coulddo the most wonderful things. Would you like to hearit while you put your maps and puzzles together?"asked Miss Celia, glad to keep her brother interestedin their four-footed guest at least.
 
　　"Yes,'m, yes,'m," answered the children; and, fetchingthe book, she read the pretty account, shorteningand simplifying it here and there to suit her hearers.
 
　　"I invited the two dogs to dine and spend theevening; and they came with their master, who was aFrenchman. He had been a teacher in a deaf anddumb school, and thought he would try the same planwith dogs. He had also been a conjurer, and now wassupported by Blanche and her daughter Lyda. Thesedogs behaved at dinner just like other dogs; but whenI gave Blanche a bit of cheese and asked if she knewthe word for it, her master said she could spell it. Soa table was arranged with a lamp on it, and round thetable were laid the letters of the alphabet painted oncards. Blanche sat in the middle, waiting till hermaster told her to spell cheese, which she at oncedid in French, F R O M A G E. Then she translated aword for us very cleverly. Some one wrote pferd, theGerman for horse, on a slate. Blanche looked at it andpretended to read it, putting by the slate with her pawwhen she had done. 'Now give us the French for thatword,' said the man; and she instantly broughtCHEVAL. 'Now, as you are at an Englishman'shouse, give it to us in English;' and she brought meHORSE. Then we spelt some words wrong, and shecorrected them with wonderful accuracy. But she didnot seem to like it, and whined and growled and lookedso worried, that she was allowed to go and rest and eatcakes in a corner.
 
　　"Then Lyda took her place on the table, and didsums on the slate with a set of figures. Also mentalarithmetic, which was very pretty. 'Now, Lyda,'
 
　　said her master, 'I want to see if you understanddivision. Suppose you had ten bits of sugar, and youmet ten Prussian dogs, how many lumps would you, aFrench dog, give to each of the Prussians?' Lydavery decidedly replied to this with a cipher. 'But,suppose you divided your sugar with me, how manylumps would you give me?' Lyda took up the figurefive and politely presented it to her master.""Wasn't she smart? Sanch can't do that," exclaimedBen, forced to own that the French doggiebeat his cherished pet.
 
　　"He is not too old to learn. Shall I go on?"asked Miss Celia, seeing that the boys liked it, thoughBetty was absorbed with the doll, and Bab deep in apuzzle.
 
　　"Oh, yes! What else did they do?""They played a game of dominoes together, sittingin chairs opposite each other, and touched the dominoesthat were wanted; but the man placed them andkept telling how the game went. Lyda was beaten,and hid under the sofa, evidently feeling very badlyabout it. Blanche was then surrounded with playing-cards,while her master held another pack and told us to choosea card; then he asked her what one had been chosen, andshe always took up the right one in her teeth. I was askedto go into another room, put a light on the floor with cardsround it, and leave the doors nearly shut. Then the manbegged some one to whisper in the dog's ear what card shewas to bring, and she went at once and fetched it, thus showingthat she understood their names. Lyda did many trickswith the numbers, so curious that no dog could possiblyunderstand them; yet what the secret sign was I couldnot discover, but suppose it must have been in thetones of the master's voice, for he certainly made nonewith either head or hands.
 
　　"It took an hour a day for eighteen months toeducate a dog enough to appear in public, and (asyou say, Ben) the night was the best time to give thelessons. Soon after this visit, the master died; andthese wonderful dogs were sold because their mistressdid not know how to exhibit them.""Wouldn't I have liked to see 'em and find out howthey were taught! Sanch, you'll have to study uplively, for I'm not going to have you beaten by Frenchdogs," said Ben, shaking his finger so sternly thatSancho grovelled at his feet and put both paws overhis eyes in the most abject manner.
 
　　"Is there a picture of those smart little poodles?"asked Ben, eying the book, which Miss Celia left openbefore her.
 
　　"Not of them, but of other interesting creatures;also anecdotes about horses, which will please you,I know," and she turned the pages for him, neitherguessing how much good Mr. Hamerton's charmingChapters on Animals" were to do the boy when heneeded comfort for a sorrow which was very near.
Chapter 10 A Heavy Trouble
 "Thank you, ma'am, that's a tip-top book, 'specially thepictures. But I can't bear to see these poor fellows;"and Ben brooded over the fine etching of the dead and dyinghorses on a battle-field, one past all further pain, the otherhelpless, but lifting his head from his dead master toneigh a farewell to the comrades who go galloping away in acloud of dust.
 
　　"They ought to stop for him, some of 'em," muttered Ben,hastily turning back to the cheerful picture of the threehappy horses in the field, standing knee-deep among thegrass as they prepare to drink at the wide stream.
 
　　"Ain't that black one a beauty? Seems as if I couldsee his mane blow in the wind, and hear him whinnyto that small feller trotting down to see if he can'tget over and be sociable. How I'd like to take arousin' run round that meadow on the whole lot of'em!" and Ben swayed about in his chair as if he wasalready doing it in imagination.
 
　　"You may take a turn round my field on Lita anyday. She would like it, and Thorny's saddle will behere next week," said Miss Celia, pleased to see thatthe boy appreciated the fine pictures, and felt suchhearty sympathy with the noble animals whom shedearly loved herself.
 
　　"Needn't wait for that. I'd rather ride bareback.
 
　　Oh, I say, is this the book you told about, wherethe horses talked?" asked Ben, suddenly recollectingthe speech he had puzzled over ever since he heard it.
 
　　"No; I brought the book, but in the hurry of mytea-party forgot to unpack it. I'll hunt it up to-night. Remind me, Thorny.""There, now, I've forgotten something, too! Squiresent you a letter; and I'm having such a jolly time, Inever thought of it."Ben rummaged out the note with remorseful haste,protesting that he was in no hurry for Mr. Gulliver,and very glad to save him for another day.
 
　　Leaving the young folks busy with their games,Miss Celia sat in the porch to read her letters, forthere were two; and as she read her face grew sosober, then so sad, that if any one had been lookinghe would have wondered what bad news had chasedaway the sunshine so suddenly. No one did look;no one saw how pitifully her eyes rested on Ben'shappy face when the letters were put away, and noone minded the new gentleness in her manner as shecame back, to the table. But Ben thought there neverwas so sweet a lady as the one who leaned over himto show him how the dissected map went togetherand never smiled at his mistakes.
 
　　So kind, so very kind was she to them all, thatwhen, after an hour of merry play, she took herbrother in to bed, the three who remained fell topraising her enthusiastically as they put things torights before taking leave.
 
　　"She's like the good fairies in the books, and hasall sorts of nice, pretty things in her house," saidBetty, enjoying a last hug of the fascinating dollwhose lids would shut so that it was a pleasure toSing, "Bye, sweet baby, bye," with no staring eyes toSpoil the illusion.
 
　　"What heaps she knows! More than Teacher, I dobelieve; and she doesn't mind how many questionswe ask. I like folks that will tell me things," addedBab, whose inquisitive mind was always hungry.
 
　　"I like that boy first-rate, and I guess he likes me,though I didn't know where Nantucket ought to go.
 
　　He wants me to teach him to ride when he's on hispins again, and Miss Celia says I may. She knowshow to make folks feel good, don't she?" and Bengratefully surveyed the Arab chief, now his own,though the best of all the collection.
 
　　"Won't we have splendid times? She Says wemay come over every night and play with her andThorny.""And she's goin', to have the seats in the porchlift up, so we can put our things in there all day andhave 'em handy.""And I'm going to be her boy, and stay here allthe time. I guess the letter I brought was arecommend from the Squire.""Yes, Ben; and if I had not already made up mymind to keep you before, I certainly would now, myboy."Something in Miss Celia's voice, as she said the lasttwo words with her hand on Ben's shoulder, made himlook up quickly and turn red with pleasure, wonderingwhat the Squire had written about him.
 
　　"Mother must have some of the party; so youshall take her these, Bab, and Betty may carry Babyhome for the night. She is so nicely asleep, it is apity to wake her. Good by till to-morrow, littleneighbors," continued Miss Celia, and dismissed thegirls with a kiss.
 
　　"Is Ben coming, too?" asked Bab, as Bettytrotted off in a silent rapture with the big darlingbobbing over her shoulder.
 
　　"Not yet; I've several things to settle with mynew man. Tell mother he will come by-and-by."Off rushed Bab with the plateful of goodies; and,drawing Ben down beside her on the wide step, MissCelia took out the letters, with a shadow creepingover her face as softly as the twilight was stealingover the world, while the dew fell, and every thinggrew still and dim.
 
　　"Ben, dear, I've something to tell you," she began,slowly; and the boy waited with a happy face, for noone had called him so since 'Melia died.
 
　　"The Squire has heard about your father, and thisis the letter Mr. Smithers sends.""Hooray! where is he, please?" cried Ben, wishingshe would hurry up; for Miss Celia did not even offerhim the letter, but sat looking down at Sancho on thelower step, as if she wanted him to come and help her.
 
　　"He went after the mustangs, and sent some home,but could not come himself.""Went further on, I s'pose. Yes, he said he mightgo as far as California, and if he did he'd send for me.
 
　　I'd like to go there; it's a real splendid place, theysay.""He has gone further away than that, to a loveliercountry than California, I hope." And Miss Celia'seyes turned to the deep sky, where early stars wereshining.
 
　　"Didn't he send for me? Where's he gone?
 
　　When 's he coming back?" asked Ben, quickly; forthere was a quiver in her voice, the meaning of whichhe felt before he understood.
 
　　Miss Celia put her arms about him, and answeredvery tenderly, --"Ben, dear, if I were to tell you that he was nevercoming back, could you bear it?""I guess I could, -- but you don't mean it? Oh,ma'am, he isn't dead?" cried Ben, with a cry thatmade her heart ache, and Sancho leap up with abark.
 
　　"My poor little boy, I wish I could say no."There was no need of any more words, no needof tears or kind arms around him. He knew he wasan orphan now, and turned instinctively to the oldfriend who loved him best. Throwing himself downbeside his dog, Ben clung about the curly neck,sobbing bitterly, --"Oh, Sanch, he's never coming back again; never,never any more!"Poor Sancho could only whine and lick away thetears that wet the half-hidden face, questioning thenew friend meantime with eyes so full of dumb loveand sympathy and sorrow that they seemed almosthuman. Wiping away her own tears, Miss Celiastooped to pat the white head, and to stroke theblack one lying so near it that the dog's breast wasthe boy's pillow. Presently the sobbing ceased, andBen whispered, without looking up,--"Tell me all about it; I'll be good."Then, as kindly as she could, Miss Celia read thebrief letter which told the hard news bluntly; forMr. Smithers was obliged to confess that he hadknown the truth months before, and never told theboy, lest he should be unfitted for the work theygave him. Of Ben Brown the elder's death therewas little to tell, except that he was killed in somewild place at the West, and a stranger wrote the factto the only person whose name was found in Ben'spocket-book. Mr. Smithers offered to take the boyback and "do well by him," averring that the fatherwished his son to remain where he left him, andfollow the profession to which he was trained.
 
　　"Will you go, Ben?" asked Miss Celia, hoping todistract his mind from his grief by speaking of otherthings.
 
　　"No, no; I'd rather tramp and starve. He'sawful hard to me and Sanch; and he'd be worse,now father's gone. Don't send me back! Let mestay here; folks are good to me; there's nowhereelse to go." And the head Ben had lifted up with adesperate sort of look, went down again on Sancho'sbreast as if there were no other refuge left.
 
　　"You shall stay here, and no one shall take youaway against your will. I called you 'my boy' inplay, now you shall be my boy in earnest; this shallbe your home, and Thorny your brother. We areorphans, too; and we will stand by one another till astronger friend comes to help us," said Miss Celia,with such a mixture of resolution and tenderness inher voice, that Ben felt comforted at once, andthanked her by laying his cheek against the prettyslipper that rested on the step beside him, as if hehad no words in which to swear loyalty to the gentlemistress whom be meant henceforth to serve withgrateful fidelity.
 
　　Sancho felt that he must follow suit; and gravelyput his paw upon her knee, with a low whine, as ifhe said, "Count me in, and let me help to pay mymaster's debt if I can."Miss Celia shook the offered paw cordially, andthe good creature crouched at her feet like a smalllion, bound to guard her and her house for evermore.
 
　　"Don't lie on that cold stone, Ben; come hereand let me try to comfort you," she said, stoopingto wipe away the great drops that kept rolling downthe brown cheek half hidden in her dress.
 
　　But Ben put his arm over his face, and sobbed outwith a fresh burst of grief, --"You can't, you didn't know him! Oh, daddy!
 
　　daddy! if I'd only seen you jest once more!"No one could grant that wish; but Miss Celia didcomfort him, for presently the sound of music floatedout from the parlor, -- music so soft, so sweet, thatinvoluntarily the boy stopped his crying to listen;then quieter tears dropped slowly, seeming to soothehis pain as they fell, while the sense of lonelinesspassed away, and it grew possible to wait till it wastime to go to father in that far-off country lovelierthan golden California.
 
　　How long she played Miss Celia never minded;but, when she stole out to see if Ben had gone, shefound that other friends, even kinder than herself,had taken the boy into their gentle keeping. Thewind had sung a lullaby among the rustling lilacs,the moon's mild face looked through the leafy archto kiss the heavy eyelids, and faithful Sancho stillkept guard beside his little master, who, with hishead pillowed on his arm, lay fast asleep, dreaming,happily, that Daddy had come home again.
Chapter 11 Sunday
     Mrs. Moss woke Ben with a kiss next morning, forher heart yearned over the fatherless lad as if hehad been her own, and she had no other way of showingher sympathy. Ben had forgotten his troubles in sleep;but the memory of them returned as soon as he openedhis eyes, heavy with the tears they had shed. Hedid not cry any more, but felt strange and lonelytill he called Sancho and told him all about it, forhe was shy even with kind Mrs. Moss, and gladwhen she went away.
 
　　Sancho seemed to understand that his master wasin trouble, and listened to the sad little story withgurgles of interest, whines of condolence, and intelligentbarks whenever the word "daddy " was uttered. He was onlya brute, but his dumb affection comforted the boy morethan any words; for Sanch had known and loved "father"almost as long and well as his son, and that seemed todraw them closely together, now they were left alone.
 
　　"We must put on mourning, old feller. It's theproper thing, and there's nobody else to do it now,"said Ben, as he dressed, remembering how all thecompany wore bits of crape somewhere about themat 'Melia's funeral.
 
　　It was a real sacrifice of boyish vanity to take theblue ribbon with its silver anchors off the new hat,and replace it with the dingy black band from theold one; but Ben was quite sincere in doing this,though doubtless his theatrical life made him thinkof the effect more than other lads would have done.
 
　　He could find nothing in his limited wardrobe withwhich to decorate Sanch except a black cambricpocket. It was already half torn out of his trouserswith the weight of nails, pebbles, and other lighttrifles; so he gave it a final wrench and tied itinto the dog's collar, saying to himself, as he putaway his treasures, with a sigh,--"One pocket is enough; I sha'n't want anythingbut a han'k'chi'f to-day."Fortunately, that article of dress was clean, for hehad but one; and, with this somewhat ostentatiouslydrooping from the solitary pocket, the serious hatupon his head, the new shoes creaking mournfully,and Sanch gravely following, much impressed withhis black bow, the chief mourner descended, feelingthat he had done his best to show respect to thedead.
 
　　Mrs. Moss's eyes filled as she saw the rusty band,and guessed why it was there; but she found it difficultto repress a smile when she beheld the cambricsymbol of woe on the dog's neck. Not a word wassaid to disturb the boy's comfort in these poor attempts,however; and he went out to do his chores, conscious thathe was an object of interest to his friends, especially soto Bab and Betty, who, havinq been told of Ben's loss, nowregarded him with a sort of pitying awe very grateful to hisfeelings.
 
　　"I want you to drive me to church by-and-by.
 
　　It is going to be pretty warm, and Thorny is hardlystrong enough to venture yet," said Miss Celia, whenBen ran over after breakfast to see if she had anything for him to do; for he considered her his mistressnow, though he was not to take possession ofhis new quarters till the morrow.
 
　　"Yes, 'm, I'd like to, if I look well enough,"answered Ben, pleased to be asked, but impressedwith the idea that people had to be very fine onsuch occasions.
 
　　"You will do very well when I have given you atouch. God doesn't mind our clothes, Ben, and thepoor are as welcome as the rich to him. You havenot been much, have you?" asked Miss Celia, anxiousto help the boy, and not quite sure how to begin.
 
　　"No, 'm; our folks didn't hardly ever go, andfather was so tired he used to rest Sundays, or gooff in the woods with me."A little quaver came into Ben's voice as he spoke,and a sudden motion made his hat-brim hide his eyes,for the thought of the happy times that would nevercome any more was almost too much for him.
 
　　"That was a pleasant way to rest. I often do so,and we will go to the grove this afternoon and try it.
 
　　But I have to go to church in the morning,; it seems tostart me right for the week; and if one has a sorrowthat is the place where one can always find comfort.
 
　　Will you come and try it, Ben, dear?""I'd do any thing to please you," muttered Ben,without looking up; for, though he felt her kindnessto the bottom of his heart, he did wish that no onewould talk about father for a little while; it was sohard to keep from crying, and he hated to be ababy.
 
　　Miss Celia seemed to understand, for the next thingshe said, in a very cheerful tone, was, "See what apretty sight that is. When I was a little girl I usedto think spiders spun cloth for the fairies, and spreadit on the grass to bleach."Ben stopped digging a hole in the ground with histoe, and looked up, to see a lovely cobweb like awheel, circle within circle, spun across a corner ofthe arch over the gate. Tiny drops glittered on everythread as the light shone through the gossamer curtain,and a soft breath of air made it tremble as ifabout to blow it away.
 
　　"It's mighty pretty, but it will fly off. just as theothers did. I never saw such a chap as that spideris. He keeps on spinning a new one every day, forthey always get broke. and he don't seem to bediscouraged a mite," said Ben, glad to change thesubject, as she knew he would be.
 
　　"That is the way he gets his living. he spins hisweb and waits for his daily bread, -- or fly, rather;and it always comes, I fancy. By-and-by you willsee that pretty trap full of insects, and Mr. Spiderwill lay up his provisions for the day. After that hedoesn't care how soon his fine web blows away.""I know him; he's a handsome feller, all blackand yellow, and lives up in that corner where theshiny sort of hole is. He dives down the minute Itouch the gate, but comes up after I've kept still aminute. I like to watch him. But he must hate me,for I took away a nice green fly and some littlemillers one day.""Did you ever hear the story of Bruce and hisspider? Most children know and like that," saidMiss Celia, seeing that he seemed interested.
 
　　"No, 'm ; I don't know ever so many things mostchildren do," answered Ben, soberly; for, since hehad been among his new friends, he had often felthis own deficiencies.
 
　　"Ah, but you also know many things which theydo not. Half the boys in town would give a greatdeal to be able to ride and run and leap as you do;and even the oldest are not as capable of taking careof themselves as you are. Your active life has donemuch in some ways to make a man of you; but inother ways it was bad, as I think you begin to see.
 
　　Now, suppose you try to forget the harmful part, andremember only the good, while learning to be morelike our boys, who go to school and church, and fitthemselves to become industrious, honest men."Ben had been looking straight up in Miss Celia'sface as she spoke, feeling that every word was true,though he could not have expressed it if he hadtried; and, when she paused, with her bright eyesinquiringly fixed on his, he answered heartily,--"I'd like to stay here and be respectable; for,since I came, I've found out that folks don't thinkmuch of circus riders, though they like to go and see'em. I didn't use to care about school and suchthings, but I do now; and I guess he'd like it betterthan to have me knockin' round that way without himto look after me.""I know he would; so we will try, Benny. I daresay it will seem dull and hard at first, after the gaysort of life you have led, and you will miss the excitement.
 
　　But it was not good for you, and we will do our best to findsomething safer. Don't be discouraged; and, when things troubleyou, come to me as Thorny does, and I'll try to straighten themout for you. I've got two boys now, and I want todo my duty by both."Before Ben had time for more than a grateful look,a tumbled head appeared at an upper window, and asleepy voice drawled out, --"Celia! I can't find a bit of a shoe-string, and Iwish you'd come and do my neck-tie.""Lazy boy, come down here, and bring one ofyour black ties with you. Shoe-strings are in thelittle brown bag on my bureau," called back MissCelia; adding, with a laugh, as the tumbled headdisappeared mumbling something about "botheringold bags, "Thorny has been half spoiled since hewas ill. You mustn't mind his fidgets and dawdling ways.
 
　　He'll get over them soon, and then I know you twowill be good friends."Ben had his doubts about that, but resolved todo his best for her sake; so, when Master Thornypresently appeared, with a careless "How are you,Ben?" that young person answered respectfully, --"Very well, thank you," though his nod was ascondescending as his new master's; because he feltthat a boy who could ride bareback and turn adouble somersault in the air ought not to "knuckleunder" to a fellow who had not the strength of apussy-cat.
 
　　"Sailor's knot, please; keeps better so," saidThorny, holding up his chin to have a blue-silk scarftied to suit him, for he was already beginning to besomething of a dandy.
 
　　"You ought to wear red till you get more color,dear;" and his sister rubbed her blooming cheekagainst his pale one, as if to lend him some of herown roses.
 
　　"Men don't care how they look," said Thorny,squirming out of her hold, for he hated to be"cuddled" before people.
 
　　"Oh, don't they? Here 's a vain boy who brusheshis hair a dozen times a day, and quiddles over hiscollar till he is so tired he can hardly stand," laughedMiss Celia, with a little tweak of his ear.
 
　　"I should like to know what this is for? " demandedThorny, in a dignified tone, presenting a black tie.
 
　　"For my other boy. He is going to church withme," and Miss Celia tied a second knot for this younggentleman, with a smile that seemed to brighten upeven the rusty hat-band.
 
　　"Well, I like that--" began Thorny, in a tonethat contradicted his words.
 
　　A look from his sister reminded him of what shehad told him half an hour ago, and he stopped short,understanding now why she was "extra good to thelittle tramp.""So do I, for you are of no use as a driver yet,and I don't like to fasten Lita when I have my bestgloves on," said Miss Celia, in a tone that rathernettled Master Thorny.
 
　　"Is Ben going to black my boots before he goes?
 
　　with a glance at the new shoes which caused them tocreak uneasily.
 
　　"No; he is going to black mine, if he will be so kind.
 
　　You won't need boots for a week yet, so wewon't waste any time over them. You will findevery thing in the shed, Ben; and at ten you may gofor Lita."With that, Miss Celia walked her brother off to thediningroom, and Ben retired to vent his ire in suchenergetic demonstrations with the blacking-brush thatthe little boots shone splendidly.
 
　　He thought he had never seen any thing as prettyas his mistress when, an hour later, she came out ofthe house in her white shawl and bonnet, holding abook and a late lily-of-the-valley in the pearl-coloredgloves, which he hardly dared to touch as he helpedher into the carriage. He had seen a good many fineladies in his life; and those he had known had beenvery gay in the colors of their hats and gowns, veryfond of cheap jewelry, and much given to feathers,lace, and furbelows; so it rather puzzled him to discoverwhy Miss Celia looked so sweet and elegant insuch a simple suit. He did not then know that thecharm was in the woman, not the clothes; or thatmerely living near such a person would do more togive him gentle manners, good principles, and purethoughts, than almost any other training he couldhave had. But he was conscious that it was pleasantto be there, neatly dressed, in good company, andgoing to church like a respectable boy. Somehow,the lonely feeling got better as be rolled alongbetween green fields, with the June sunshine brighteningevery thing, a restful quiet in the air, and a friendbeside him who sat silently looking out at the lovelyworld with what he afterward learned to call her"Sunday face," -- a soft, happy look, as if all thework and weariness of the past week were forgotten,and she was ready to begin afresh when this blessedday was over.
 
　　"Well, child, what is it?" she asked, catching hiseye as he stole a shy glance at her, one of many whichshe had not seen.
 
　　"I was only thinking, you looked as if --""As if what? Don't be afraid," she said, for Benpaused and fumbled at the reins, feeling half ashamedto tell his fancy.
 
　　"You were saying prayers," he added, wishingshe had not caught him.
 
　　"So I was. Don't you, when you are happy?
 
　　"No,'m. I'm glad, but I don't say any thing.""Words are not needed; but they help, sometimes,if they are sincere and sweet. Did you never learnany prayers, Ben?""Only 'Now I lay me.' Grandma taught me thatwhen I was a little mite of a boy.""I will teach you another, the best that was evermade, because it says all we need ask.""Our folks wasn't very pious; they didn't havetime, I s'pose.""I wonder if you know just what it means to bepious?""Goin' to church, and readin' the Bible, and sayin'
 
　　prayers and hymns, ain't it?""Those things are a part of it; but being kind andcheerful, doing one's duty, helping others, and lovingGod, is the best way to show that we are pious in thetrue sense of the word.""Then you are! " and Ben looked as if her acts hadbeen a better definition than her words.
 
　　"I try to be, but I very often fail; so every SundayI make new resolutions, and work hard to keep themthrough the week. That is a great help, as you willfind when you begin to try it.""Do you think if I said in meetin', ' I won't everswear any more,' that I wouldn't do it again?" askedBen, soberly; for that was his besetting sin just now.
 
　　"I'm afraid we can't get rid of our faults quite soeasily; I wish we could: but I do believe that if youkeep saying that, and trying to stop, you will cure thehabit sooner than you think.""I never did swear very bad, and I didn't mindmuch till I came here; but Bab and Betty looked soscared when I said 'damn,' and Mrs. Moss scoldedme so, I tried to leave off. It's dreadful hard, though,when I get mad. 'Hang it!' don't seem half so goodif I want to let off steam.""Thorny used to 'confound!' every thing, so Iproposed that he should whistle instead; and now hesometimes pipes up so suddenly and shrilly that itmakes me jump. How would that do, instead ofswearing?" proposed Miss Celia, not the least surprisedat the habit of profanity, which the boy couldhardly help learning among his former associates.
 
　　Ben laughed, and promised to try it, feeling a mischievoussatisfaction at the prospect of out-whistlingMaster Thorny, as he knew he should; for the objectionablewords rose to his lips a dozen times a day.
 
　　The Ben was ringing as they drove into town; and,by the time Lita was comfortably settled in her shed,people were coming up from all quarters to clusteraround the steps of the old meeting-house like beesabout a hive. Accustomed to a tent, where peoplekept their hats on, Ben forgot all about his, and wasgoing down the aisle covered, when a gentle handtook it off, and Miss Celia whispered, as she gave itto him, --"This is a holy place; remember that, and uncoverat the door."Much abashed, Ben followed to the pew, where theSquire and his wife soon joined them.
 
　　"Glad to see him here," said the old gentlemanwith an appioving nod, as he recognized the boy andremembered his loss.
 
　　"Hope he won't nestle round in meeting-time,"whispered Mrs. Allen, composing herself in the cornerwith much rustling of black silk.
 
　　"I'll take care that he doesn't disturb you," answeredMiss Celia, pushing a stool under the shortlegs, and drawing a palm-leaf fan within reach.
 
　　Ben gave an inward sigh at the prospect beforehim; for an hour's captivity to an active lad is hardto bear, and he really did want to behave well. Sohe folded his arms and sat like a statue, with nothingmoving but his eyes. They rolled to and fro, up anddown, from the high red pulpit to the worn hymnbooksin the rack, recognizing two little faces underblue-ribboned hats in a distant pew, and finding itimpossible to restrain a momentary twinkle in returnfor the solemn wink Billy Barton bestowed upon himacross the aisle. Ten minutes of this decorous demeanormade it absolutely necessary for him to stir;so he unfolded his arms and crossed his legs ascautiously as a mouse moves in the presence of acat; for Mrs. Allen's eye was on him, and he knew byexperience that it was a very sharp one.
 
　　The music which presently began was a great reliefto him, for under cover of it he could wag his footand no one heard the creak thereof; and when theystood up to sing, he was so sure that all the boys werelooking at him, he was glad to sit down again. Thegood old minister read the sixteenth chapter of Samuel,and then proceeded to preach a long and somewhat dullsermon. Ben listened with all his ears, forhe was interested in the young shepherd, " uddy andof a beautiful countenance," who was chosen to beSaul's armor-bearer. He wanted to hear more abouthim, and how he got on, and whether the evil spiritstroubled Saul again after David had harped themout. But nothing more came; and the old gentlemandroned on about other things till poor Ben felt thathe must either go to sleep like the Squire, or tip thestool over by accident, since "nestling" was forbidden,and relief of some sort he must have.
 
　　Mrs. Allen gave him a peppermint, and he dutifullyate it, though it was so hot it made his eyes water.
 
　　Then she fanned him, to his great annoyance, for itblew his hair about; and the pride of his life was tohave his head as smooth and shiny as black satin.
 
　　An irrepressible sigh of weariness attracted MissCelia's attention at last; for, though she seemed tobe listening devoutly, her thoughts had flown overthe sea, with tender prayers for one whom she lovedeven more than David did his Jonathan. She guessedthe trouble in a minute, and had provided for it, knowingby experience that few small boys can keep quietthrough sermon-time. Finding a certain place in thelittle book she had brought, she put it into his hands,with the whisper, "Read if you are tired."Ben clutched the book and gladly obeyed, thoughthe title, "Scripture Narratives," did not look veryinviting. Then his eye fell on the picture of a slenderyouth cutting a large man's head off, while manypeople stood looking on.
 
　　"Jack, the giant-killer," thought Ben, and turnedthe page to see the words "David and Goliath",which was enough to set him to reading the storywith great interest; for here was the shepherd boyturned into a hero. No more fidgets now; the sermonwas no longer heard, the fan flapped unfelt, andBilly Barton's spirited sketches in the hymnbookwere vainly held up for admiration. Ben was quiteabsorbed in the stirring history of King David, toldin a way that fitted it for children's reading, and illustratedwith fine pictures which charmed the boy's eye.
 
　　Sermon and story ended at the same time; and,while he listened to the prayer, Ben felt as if he understoodnow what Miss Celia meant by saying thatwords helped when they were well chosen and sincere.
 
　　Several petitions seemed as if especially intended forhim; and he repeated them to himself that he mightremember them, they sounded so sweet and comfortableheard for the first time just when he mostneeded comfort. Miss Celia saw a new expressionin the boy's face as she glanced down at him, andheard a little huniming at her side when all stood upto sing the cheerful hymn with which they weredismissed.
 
　　"How do you like church?" asked the young lady,as they drove away.
 
　　"First-rate!" answered Ben, heartily.
 
　　"Especially the sermon?"Ben laughed, and said, with an affectionate glanceat the little book in her lap,--"I couldn't understand it; but that story was justelegant. There's more; and I'd admire to read 'em,if I could.""I'm glad you like them; and we will keep therest for another sermon-time. Thorny used to doso, and always called this his 'pew book.' I don'texpect you to understand much that you hear yetawhile; but it is good to be there, and after readingthese stories you will be more interested when youhear the names of the people mentioned here.""Yes, 'm. Wasn't David a fine feller? I liked allabout the kid and the corn and the ten cheeses, andkillin' the lion and bear, and slingin' old Goliath deadfirst shot. I want to know about Joseph next time,for I saw a gang of robbers puttin' him in a hole, andit looked real interesting."Miss Celia could not help smiling at Ben's way oftelling things; but she was pleased to see that he wasattracted by the music and the stories, and resolvedto make church-going so pleasant that he would learnto love it for its own sake.
 
　　"Now, you have tried my way this morning, andwe will try yours this afternoon. Come over aboutfour and help me roll Thorny down to the grove. Iam going to put one of the hanmmocks there, becausethe smell of the pines is good for him, and you cantalk or read or amuse yourselves in any quiet wayyou like.""Can I take Sanch along? He doesn't like to beleft, and felt real bad because I shut him up, for fearhe'd follow and come walkin' into meetin' to find me.""Yes, indeed; let the clever Bow-wow have a goodtime and enjoy Sunday as much as I want my boys to."Quite content with this arrangement, Ben went hometo dinner, which he made very lively by recountingBilly Barton's ingenious devices to beguile the tediumof sermon time. He said nothing of his conversationwith Miss Celia, because he had not quite made uphis mind whether he liked it or not; it was so newand serious, he felt as if he had better lay it by, tothink over a good deal before he could understand allabout it. But he had time to get dismal again, andlong for four o'clock; because he had nothing to doexcept whittle. Mrs. Moss went to take a nap; Baband Betty sat demurely on their bench reading Sundaybooks; no boys were allowed to come and play;even the hens retired under the currant-bushes, andthe cock stood among them, clucking drowsily, as ifreading them a sermon.
 
　　"Dreadful slow day!" thought Ben; and, retiringto the recesses of his own room, he read over the twoletters which seemed already old to him. Now thatthe first shock was over, he could not make it truethat his father was dead, and he gave up trying; forhe was an honest boy, and felt that it was foolish topretend to be more unhappy than he really was. Sohe put away his letters, took the black pocket offSanch's neck, and allowed himself to whistle softly ashe packed up his possessions, ready to move nextday, with few regrets and many bright anticipationsfor the future.
 
　　"Thorny, I want you to be good to Ben, andamuse him in some quiet way this afternoon. Imust stay and see the Morrises, who are comingover; but you can go to the grove and have apleasant time," said Miss Celia to her brother.
 
　　"Not much fun in talking to that horsey fellow.
 
　　I'm sorry for him, but I can't do anything to amusehim," objected Thorny, pulling himself up from thesofa with a great yawn.
 
　　You can be very agreeable when you like; andBen has had enough of me for this time. To-morrowhe will have his work, and do very well; but wemust try to help him through to-day, because hedoesn't know what to do with himself. Besides, itis just the time to make a good impression on him,while grief for his father softens him, and gives us achance. I like him, and I'm sure he wants to dowell; so it is our duty to help him, as there seemsto be no one else.""Here goes, then! Where is he?" and Thornystood up, won by his sister's sweet earnestness, butvery doubtful of his own success with the "horseyfellow.""Waiting with the chair. Randa has gone onwith the hammock. Be a dear boy, and I'll do asmuch for you some day.""Don't see how you can be a dear boy. You'rethe best sister that ever was; so I'lllove all thescallywags you ask me to."With a laugh and a kiss, Thorny shambled offto ascend his chariot, good-humoredly saluting hispusher, whom he found sitting on the high railbehind, with his feet on Sanch.
 
　　"Drive on, Benjamin. I don't know the way, so Ican't direct. Don't spill me out, -- that's all I'vegot to say.":All right, sir," -- and away Ben trundled downthe long walk that led through the orchard to a littlegrove of seven pines.
 
　　A pleasant spot; for a soft rustle filled the air,a brown carpet of pine needles, with fallen conesfor a pattern, lay under foot; and over the topsof the tall brakes that fringed the knoll one hadglimpses of hill and valley, farm-houses and windingriver, like a silver ribbon through the low, greenmeadows.
 
　　"A regular summer house!" said Thorny, surveyingit with approval. "What's the matter, Randa?
 
　　Won't it do?" he asked, as the stout maid droppedher arms with a puff, after vainly trying to throw thehammock rope over a branch.
 
　　"That end went up beautiful, but this one won't;the branches is so high, I can't reach 'em; and I'mno hand at flinging ropes round.""I'll fix it;" and Ben went up the pine like asquirrel, tied a stout knot, and swung himself downagain before Thorny could get out of the chair.
 
　　"My patience, what a spry boy!" exclaimedRanda, admiringly.
 
　　"That 's nothing; you ought to see me shin up asmooth tent-pole," said Ben, rubbing the pitch offhis hands, with a boastful wag of the head.
 
　　"You can go, Randa. just hand me my cushionand books, Ben; then you can sit in the chair whileI talk to you," commanded Thorny, tumbling intothe hammock.
 
　　"What's he goin' to say to me?" wondered Bento himself, as he sat down with Sanch sprawlingamong the wheels.
 
　　"Now, Ben, I think you'd better learn a hymn; Ialways used to when I was a little chap, and it is agood thing to do Sundays," began the new teacher,with a patronizing air, which ruffled his pupil asmuch as the opprobrious term "little chap.""I'll be -- whew -- if I do! " whistled Ben, stoppingan oath just in time.
 
　　"It is not polite to whistle in company," saidThorny, with great dignity.
 
　　"Miss Celia told me to. I'll say 'confound it,' ifyou like that better," answered Ben, as a sly smiletwinkled in his eyes.
 
　　"Oh, I see! She 's told you about it? Well,then, if you want to please her, you'll learn a hymnright off. Come, now, she wants me to be clever toyou, and I'd like to do it; but if you get peppery,how can I?"Thorny spoke in a hearty, blunt way, which suitedBen much better than the other, and he respondedpleasantly, --"If you won't be grand I won't be peppery.
 
　　Nobody is going to boss me but Miss Celia; so I'lllearn hymns if she wants me to.""'In the soft season of thy youth' is a good oneto begin with. I learned it when I was six. Nicething; better have it." And Thorny offered thebook like a patriarch addressing an infant.
 
　　Ben surveyed the yellow page with small favor, forthe long s in the old-fashioned printing bewilderedhim; and when he came to the last two lines, hecould not resist reading them wrong, --"The earth affords no lovelier fightThan a religious youth.""I don't believe I could ever get that into myhead straight. Haven't you got a plain one anywhere round?" he asked, turning over the leaveswith some anxiety.
 
　　"Look at the end, and see if there isn't a piece ofpoetry pasted in. You learn that, and see how funnyCelia will look when you say it to her. She wrote itwhen she was a girl, and somebody had it printed forother children. I like it best, myself."Pleased by the prospect of a little fun to cheer hisvirtuous task, Ben whisked over the leaves, and readwith interest the lines Miss Celia had written in hergirlhood:
 
　　"MY KINGDOMA little kingdom I possess,Where thoughts and feelings dwell;And very hard I find the taskOf governing it well.
 
　　For passion tempts and troubles me,A wayward will misleads,And selfishness its shadow castsOn all my words and deeds.
 
　　"How can I learn to rule myself,To be the child I should, --Honest and brave, -- nor ever tireOf trying to be good?
 
　　How can I keep a sunny soulTo shine along life's way?
 
　　How can I tune my little heartTo sweetly sing all day?
 
　　"Dear Father, help me With the loveThat casteth out my fear!
 
　　Teach me to lean on thee, and feelThat thou art very near;That no temptation is unseen,No childish grief too small,Since Thou, with patience infinite,Doth soothe and comfort all.
 
　　"I do not ask for any crown,But that which all may willNor seek to conquer any worldExcept the one within.
 
　　Be then my guide until I find,Led by a tender hand,Thy happy kingdom in myself,And dare to take command.""I like that!" said Ben, emphatically, when he hadread the little hymn. "I understand it, and I'll learnit right away. Don't see how she could make it allcome out so nice and pretty.""Celia can do any thing!" and Thorny gave anall-embracing wave of the hand, which forciblyexpressed his firm belief in his sister's boundlesspowers.
 
　　"I made some poetry once. Bab and Betty thoughtit was first-rate, I didn't," said Ben, moved to confidenceby the discovery of Miss Celia's poetic skill.
 
　　"Say it," commanded Thorny, adding with tact,I can't make any to save my life, -- never couldbut I'm fond of it.""Chevalita,Pretty cretr,I do love herLike a brother;Just to rideIs my delight,For she does notKick or bite,"recited Ben, with modest pride, for his first attempthad been inspired by sincere affection, and pronounced"lovely" by the admiring girls.
 
　　"Very good! You must say them to Celia, too.
 
　　She likes to hear Lita praised. You and she and thatlittle Barlow boy ought to try for a prize, as the poetsdid in Athens. I'II tell you all about it some time.
 
　　Now, yao peg away at your hymn."Cheered by Thorny's commendation, Ben fell towork at his new task, squirming about in the chair asif the process of getting words into his memory was avery painful one. But he had quick wits, and hadoften learned comic songs; so he soon was able torepeat the four verses without mistake, much to hisown and Thorny's satisfaction.
 
　　"Now we'll talk," said the well-pleased preceptor;and talk they did, one swinging in the hammock, theother rolling about on the pine-needles, as they relatedtheir experiences boy fashion. Ben's were the mostexciting; but Thorny's were not without interest,for he had lived abroad for several years, and couldtell all sorts of droll stories of the countries he hadseen.
 
　　Busied with friends, Miss Celia could not help wonderinghow the lads got on; and, when the tea-Benrang, waited a little anxiously for their return, knowingthat she could tell at a glance if they had enjoyedthernselves.
 
　　"All goes well so far," she thought, as she watchedtheir approach with a smile; for Sancho sat bolt uprightin the chair which Ben pushed, while Thornystrolled beside him, leaning on a stout cane newlycut. Both boys were talking busily, and Thornylaughed from time to time, as if his comrade's chatwas very amusing.
 
　　"See what a jolly cane Ben cut for me! He'sgreat fun if you don't stroke him the wrong way",said the elder lad, flourishing his staff as theycame up.
 
　　"What have you been doing down there? Youlook so merry, I suspect mischief," asked Miss Celia,surveying them front the steps.
 
　　"We've been as good as gold. I talked, and Benlearned a hymn to please you. Come, young man,say your piece," said Thorny, with an expression ofvirtuous content.
 
　　Taking off his hat, Ben soberly obeyed, much enjoyingthe quick color that came up in Miss Celia'sface as she listened, and feeling as if well repaid forthe labor of learning by the pleased look with whichShe said, as he ended with a bow, --"I feel very proud to think you chose that, and tohear you say it as if it meant something to you. Iwas only fourteen when I wrote it; but it came rightout of my heart, and did me good. I hope it mayhelp you a little."Ben murmured that he guessed it would; but felttoo shy to talk about such things before Thorny, sohastily retired to put the chair away, and the otherswent in to tea. But later in the evening, when MissCelia was singing like a nightingale, the boy slippedaway from sleepy Bab and Betty to stand by thesyringa bush and listen, with his heart full of newthoughts and happy feelings; for never before had hespent a Sunday like this. And when he went to bed,instead of saying "Now I lay me," he repeated thethird verse of Miss Celia's hymn; for that was hisfavorite, because his longing for the father whom hehad seen made it seem sweet and natural now to loveand lean, without fear upon the Father whom he hadnot seen.
Chapter 12 Good Times
     Every one was very kind to Ben when his losswas known. The Squire wrote to Mr. Smithersthat the boy had found friends and would staywhere he was. Mrs. Moss consoled him in her motherlyway, and the little girls did their very best to "begood to poor Benny." But Miss Celia was his truestcomforter, and completely won his heart, not only bythe friendly words she said and the pleasant things shedid, but by the unspoken sympathy which showed itselfjust at the right minute, in a look, a touch, a smile,more helpful than any amount of condolence. Shecalled him "my man," and Ben tried to be one, bearinghis trouble so bravely that she respected him. althoughhe was only a little boy, because it promised well forthe future.
 
　　Then she was so happy herself, it was impossible forthose about her to be sad, and Ben soon grew cheerfulagain in spite of the very tender memory of his fatherlaid quietly away in the safest corner of his heart. Hewould have been a very unboyish boy if he had not beenhappy, for the new place was such a pleasant one, hesoon felt as if, for the first time, he really had a home.
 
　　No more grubbing now, but daily tasks which nevergrew tiresome, they were so varied and so light. Nomore cross Pats to try his temper, but the sweetestmistress that ever was, since praise was oftener on herlips than blame, and gratitude made willing service adelight.
 
　　At first, it seemed as if there was going to be troublebetween the two boys; for Thorny was naturally masterful,and illness had left him weak and nervous, so hewas often both domineering and petulant. Ben hadbeen taught instant obedience to those older than himself, and if Thorny had been a man Ben would havemade no complaint; but it was hard to be "orderedround" by a boy, and an unreasonable one into thebargain.
 
　　A word from Miss Celia blew away the threateningcloud, however; and for her sake her brother promisedto try to be patient; for her sake Ben declared he neverwould "get mad" if Mr. Thorny did fidget; and bothvery soon forgot all about master and man and livedtogether like two friendly lads, taking each other's upsand downs good-naturedly, and finding mutual pleasureand profit in the new companionship.
 
　　The only point on which they never could agree waslegs, and many a hearty laugh did they give Miss Celiaby their warm and serious discussion of this vexed question.
 
　　Thorny insisted that Ben was bow1egged; Benresented the epithet, and declared that the legs of allgood horsemen must have a slight curve, and any onewho knew any thing about the matter would acknowledgeboth its necessity and its beauty. Then ThornyWould observe that it might be all very well in the saddle,but it made a man waddle like a duck when afoot;whereat Ben would retort that, for his part, he wouldrather waddle like a duck than tumble about like ahorse with the staggers. He had his opponent there,for poor Thorny did look very like a weak-kneed coltwhen he tried to walk; but he would never own it, andcame down upon Ben with crushing allusions to centaurs,or the Greeks and Romans, who were famous bothfor their horsemanship and fine limbs. Ben could notanswer that, except by proudly referring to the chariot-races copied from the ancients, in which he had bornea part, which was more than somefolks with long legscould say. Gentlemen never did that sort of thing,nor did they twit their best friends with their misfortunes,Thorny would remark; casting a pensive glanceat his thin hands, longing the while to give Ben a goodshaking. This hint would remind the other of hisyoung master's late sufferings and all he owed his dearmistress; and he usually ended the controversy byturning a few lively somersaults as a vent for his swellingwrath, and come up with his temper all right again.
 
　　Or, if Thorny happened to be in the wheeled chair, hewould trot him round the garden at a pace which nearlytook his breath away, thereby proving that if "bow-legs" were not beautiful to some benighted beings theywere "good to go."Thorny liked that, and would drop the subject forthe time by politely introducing some more agreeabletopic; so the impending quarrel would end in alaugh over some boyish joke, and the word "legsbe avoided by mutual consent till accident broughtit up again.
 
　　The spirit of rivalry is hidden in the best of us, andis a helpful and inspiring power if we know how to useit. Miss Celia knew this, and tried to make the ladshelp one another by means of it, -- not in boastful orungenerous comparison of each other's gifts, but byinterchanging them, giving and taking freely, kindly,and being glad to love what was admirable whereverthey found it. Thorny admired Ben's strength, activ-ity, and independence; Ben envied Thorny's learning,good manners, and comfortable surroundings; and,when a wise word had set the matter rightly beforethem, both enjoyed the feeling that there was a certainequality between them, since money could not buyhealth, and practical knowledge was as useful as anythat can be found in books. So they interchangedtheir small experiences, accomplishments, and pleasures,and both were the better, as well as the happier,for it; because in this way only can we truly love ourneighbor as ourself, and get the real sweetness out oflife.
 
　　There was no end to the new and pleasant thingsBen had to do, from keeping paths and flower-bedsneat, feeding the pets, and running errands, to waitingon Thorny and being right-hand man to Miss Celia.
 
　　He had a little room in the old house, newly paperedwith hunting scenes, which he was never tired of admiring.
 
　　In the closet hung several out-grown suitsof Thorny's, made over for his valet; and, what Benvalued infinitely more, a pair of boots, well blackedand ready for grand occasions, when he rode abroad,with one old spur, found in the attic, brightened upand merely worn for show, since nothing would haveinduced him to prick beloved Lita with it.
 
　　Many pictures, cut from illustrated papers, of races,animals, and birds, were stuck round the room, givingit rather the air of a circus and menagerie. This, however,made it only the more home-like to its presentowner, who felt exceedingly rich and respectable as hesurveyed his premises; almost like a retired showmanwho still fondly remembers past successes, though nowhappy in the more private walks of life.
 
　　In one drawer of the quaint little bureau which heused, were kept the relics of his father; very few andpoor, and of no interest to any one but himself, --only the letter telling of his death, a worn-out watch-chain,and a photograph of Senor Jose Montebello,with his youthful son standing on his head, both airilyattired, and both smiling with the calmly superior expressionwhich gentlemen of their profession usuallywear in public. Ben's other treasures had been stolenwith his bundle; but these he cherished and oftenlooked at when he went to bed, wondering whatheaven was like, since it was lovelier than California,and usually fell asleep with a dreamy impression thatit must be something like America when Columbusfound it, -- "a pleasant land, where were gay flowersand tall trees, with leaves and fruit such as they hadnever seen before." And through this happy hunt-ing-ground"father" was for ever riding on a beautiful white horsewith wings, like the one of which MissCelia had a picture.
 
　　Nice times Ben had in his little room poring overhis books, for he soon had several of his own; buthis favorites were Hamerton's "Animals" and "OurDumb Friends," both full of interesting pictures andanecdotes such as boys love. Still nicer times workingabout the house, helping get things in order; andbest of all were the daily drives with Miss Celia andThorny, when weather permitted, or solitary rides totown through the heaviest rain, for certain lettersmust go and come, no matter how the elements raged.
 
　　The neighbors soon got used to the "antics of thatboy," but Ben knew that he was an object of interestas he careered down the main street in a way thatmade old ladies cry out and brought people flying tothe window, sure that some one was being run awaywith. Lita enjoyed the fun as much as he, and apparentlydid her best to send him heels over head, having rapidlyearned to understand the signs he gaveher by the touch of hand and foot, or the tones ofhis voice.
 
　　These performances caused the boys to regard BenBrown with intense admiration, the girls with timidawe, all but Bab, who burned to imitate him, and triedher best whenever she got a chance, much to the anguishand dismay of poor Jack, for that long-sufferinganimal was the only steed she was allowed to ride.
 
　　Fortunately, neither she nor Betty had much time forplay just now, as school was about to close for thelong vacation, and all the little people were busyfinishing up, that they might go to play with freeminds. So the "lilac-parties," as they called them,were deferred till later, and the lads amused themselvesin their own way, with Miss Celia to suggestand advise.
 
　　It took Thorny a long time to arrange his possessions,for he could only direct while Ben unpacked,wondering and adiniring as he worked, because he hadnever seen so many boyish treasures before. Thelitte printing-press was his especial delight, and leavingevery thing else in confusion, Thorny taught himits and planned a newspaper on the spot, with Benfor printer, himself for editor, and "Sister" for chiefcontributor, while Bab should be carrier and Bettyoffice-boy. Next came a postage-stamp book, and arainy day was happily spent in pasting a new collectionwhere each particular one belonged, with copiousexplanations from Thorny as they went along. Bendid not feel any great interest in this amusement afterone trial of it, but when a book containing patternsof the flags of all nations turned up, he was seizedwith a desire to copy them all, so that the housecould be fitly decorated on gala occasions. Findingthat it amused her brother, Miss Celia generouslyopened her piece-drawer and rag-bag, and as themania grew till her resources were exhausted, shebought bits of gay cambric and many-colured papers,and startled the store-keeper by purchasing severalbottles of mucilage at once. Bab and Betty wereinvited to sew the bright strips of stars, and prickedtheir little fingers assiduously, finding this sort ofneedle-work much more attractive than piecing bed-quilts.
 
　　Such a snipping and pasting, planning and stitchingas went on in the big back room, which was givenup to them, and such a noble array of banners andpetitions as soon decorated its walls, would havecaused the dullest eye to brighten with amusement,if not with admiration. Of course, the Stars andStripes hung highest, with the English lion rampingon the royal standard close by; then followed a regularpicture-gallery, for there was the white elephant ofSiam, the splendid peacock of Burmah, the double-headed Russian eagle, and black dragon of China,the winged lion of Venice, and the prancing pair onthe red, white, and blue flag of Holland. The keysand mitre of the Papal States were a hard job, but upthey went at last, with the yellow crescent of Turkeyon one side and the red full moon of Japan on theother; the pretty blue and white flag of Greece hungbelow and the cross of free Switzerland above. Ifmaterials had held out, the flags of all the UnitedStates would have followed; but paste and patiencewere exhausted, so the busy workers rested awhilebefore they "flung their banner to the breeze," asthe newspapers have it.
 
　　A spell of ship-building and rigging followed theflag fit; for Thorny, feeling too old now for suchtoys, made over his whole fleet to "the children,"condescending, however, to superintend a thoroughrepairing of the sa,e before he disposed of all butthe big man-of-war, which continued to ornament hisown room, with all sail set and a little red officerperpetually waving his sword on the quarter-deck.
 
　　These gifts led to out-of-door water-works, for thebrook had to be dammed up, that a shallow oceanmight be made, where Ben's piratical "Red Rover,"with the black flag, might chase and capture Bab'ssmart frigate, "Queen," while the "Bounding Betsey,"laden with lumber, safely sailed from Kennebunkport toMassachusetts Bay. Thorny, from hischair, was chief-engineer, and directed his gang ofone how to dig the basin, throw up the embankment,and finally let in the water till the mimic ocean wasfull; then regulate the little watrr-gate, lest it shouldoverflow and wreck the pretty squadron or ships, boats,canoes, and rafts, which soon rode at anchor there.
 
　　Digging and paddling in mud and water provedsuch a delightful pastime that the boys kept it up, tilla series of water-wheels, little mills and cataractsmade the once quiet brook look as if a manufacturingtown was about to spring up where hitheto minnows hadplayed in peace and the retiring frog hadchanted his serenade unmolested.
 
　　Miss Celia liked all this, for any thing which wouldkeep Thorny happy out-of-doors in the sweet Juneweather found favor in her eyes, and when the noveltyhad worn off from home affairs, she planned a seriesof exploring expeditions which filled their boyish soulswith delight. As none of them knew much about theplace, it really was quite exciting to start off on abright morning with a roll of wraps and cushions,lunch, books, and drawing materials packed into thephaeton, and drive at random about the shady roadsand lanes, pausing when and where they liked. Wonderfuldiscoveries were made, pretty places werenamed, plans were drawn, and all sorts of mrrryadventures befell the pilgrims.
 
　　Each day they camped in a new spot, and while Litanibbled the fresh grass at her ease, Miss Celia sketchedunder the big umbrella, Thorny read or lounged orslept on his rubber blanket, and Ben made himselfgenerally useful. Unloading, filling the artist's water-bottle, piling the invalid's cushions, setting out thelunch, running to and fro for a Bower or a butterfly,climbing a tree to report the view, reading, chatting, orfrolicking with Sancho,-- any sort of duty was inBen's line, and he did them all well, for an out-of-doorlife was natural to him and he liked it.
 
　　"Ben, I want an amanuensis," said Thorny, droppingbook and pencil one day after a brief interval ofsilence, broken only by the whisper of the youngleaves overhead and the soft babble of the brookclose by.
 
　　"A what?" asked Ben, pushing back his hat withsuch an air of amazement that Thorny rather loftilyinquired:
 
　　"Don't you know what an amanuensis is?""Well, no; not unless it's some relation to an anaconda.
 
　　Shouldn't think you'd want one of them, anyway."Thorny rolled over with a hoot of derision, and hissister, who sat close by, sketching an old gate, lookedup to see what was going on.
 
　　"Well, you needn't laugh at a feller. You didn'tknow what a wombat was when I asked you, and Ididn't roar," said Ben, giving his hat a slap, as nothingelse was handy.
 
　　"The idea of wanting an anaconda tickled me so, Icouldn't help it. I dare say you'd have got me oneif I had asked for it, you are such an obliging chap,""Of course I would if I could. Shouldn't be surprisedif you did some day, you want such funnythings," answered Ben, appeased by the compliment.
 
　　"I'll try the amanuensis first. It's only some oneto write for me; I get so tired doing it without a table.
 
　　You write well enough, and it will be good for you toknow something about botany. I intend to teach you,Ben," said Thorny, as if conferring a great favor.
 
　　"It looks pretty hard," muttered Ben, with a dolefulGlance at the book laid open upon a strew of tornleaves and flowers.
 
　　"No, it isn't; it's regularly jolly; and you'd be noend of a help if you only knew a little. Now, supposeI say, 'Bring me a "ranunculus bulbosus,"' howwould yoy know what I wanted?" demanded Thorny,waving his microscope with a learned air.
 
　　"Shouldn't.""There are quantities of them all round us; and Iwant to analyze one. See if you can't guess."Ben stared vaguely from earth to sky, and was aboutto give it up, when a buttercup fell at his feet, and hecaught sight of Miss Celia smiling at him from behindher brother, who did not see the flower.
 
　　"S'pose you mean this? I don't call 'em rhinocerusbulburses, so I wasn't sure." And, taking the hint asquickly as it was given, Ben presented the buttercupas if he knew all about it.
 
　　"You guessed that remarkably well. Now bringme a 'leontodon taraxacum,'" said Thorny, charmedwith the quickness of his pupil, and glad to display hislearning.
 
　　Again Ben gazed, but the field was full of earlyflowers; and, if a long pencil had not pointed to adandelion close by, he would have been lost.
 
　　"Here you are, sir," he answered with a chuckleand Thorny took his turn at being astonished now.
 
　　"How the dickens did you know that?""Try it again, and may be you'll find out," laughedBen.
 
　　Diving hap-hazard into his book, Thorny demandeda "trifolium pratense."The clever pencil pointed, and Ben brought a redclover, mightily enjoying the joke, and thinking thattheir kind of botany wasn't bad fun.
 
　　"Look here, no fooling!" and Thorny sat up to investigatethe matter, so quickly that his sister had nottime to sober down. "Ah, I've caught you! Notfair to tell, Celia. Now, Ben, you've got to learn allabout this buttercup, to pay for cheating.""Werry good, sir; bring on your rhinoceriouses,"answered Ben, who couldn't help imitating his oldfriend the clown when he felt particularly jolly.
 
　　"Sit there and write what I tell you," orderedThorny, with all the severity of a strict schoolmaster.
 
　　Perching himself on the mossy stump, Ben obedientlyfloundered through the following analysis, withconstant help in the spelling, and much private wonderwhat would come of it: --"Phaenogamous. Exogenous. Angiosperm. Polypetalous.
 
　　Stamens, more than ten. Stamens on thereceptacle. Pistils, more than one and separate.
 
　　Leaves without stipules. Crowfoot family. Genusranunculus. Botanical name, Ranunculus bulbosus.""Jerusalem! what a flower! Pistols and crows'
 
　　feet, and Polly put the kettles on, and Angy spermsand all the rest of 'em! If that's your botany, Iwon't take any more, thank you," said Ben, as hepaused as hot and red as if he had been running arace.
 
　　"Yes, you Will; you'll learn that all by heart, andthen I shall give you a dandelion to do. You'll likethat, because it means dent de lion, or lion's tooth;and I'll show them to you through my glass. You'veno idea how interesting it is, and what heaps of prettythings you'll see," answered Thorny, who had alreadydiscovered how charming the study was, and hadfound great satisfaction in it, since he had beenforbidden more active pleasures.
 
　　"What's the good of it, anyway?" asked Ben, whowould rather have been set to mowing the big fieldthan to the task before him.
 
　　"It tells all about it in my book here, -- 'Gray'sBotany for Young People.' But I can tell you whatuse it is to us," continued Thorny, crossing his legs inthe air and preparing to argue the matter, comfortablylying flat on his back. "We are a Scientific ExplorationSociety, and we must keep an account of allthe plants, animals, minerals, and so on, as we comeacross them. Then, suppose we get lost, and haveto hunt for food, how are we to know what is safeand what isn't? Come, now, do you know thedifference between a toadstool and a mushroom?""No, I don't.""Then I'll teach you some day. There is sweetflag and poisonous flag, and all sorts of berries andthings; and you'd better look out when you arein the woods, or you'll touch ivy and dogwood,and have a horrid time, if you don't know yourbotany.""Thorny learned much of his by sad experience;and you will be wise to take his advice," said MissCelia, recalling her brother's various mishaps beforethe new fancy came on.
 
　　"Didn't I have a time of it, though, when I had togo round for a week with plantain leaves and creamstuck all over my face! Just picked some pretty reddogwood, Ben; and then I was a regular guy, with aface like a lobster, and my eyes swelled out of sight.
 
　　Come along, and learn right away, and never get intoscrapes like most fellows."Impressed by this warning, and attracted byThorny's enthusiasm, Ben cast himself down uponthe blanket, and for an hour the two heads bobbedto and fro, from microscope to book, the teacherairing his small knowledge, the pupil more and moreinterested in the new and curious things he saw orheard, -- though it must be confessed that Ben infinitelyprefered to watch ants and bugs, queer littleworms and gauzy-winged flies, rather than "putter"over plants with long names. He did not dare tosay so, however; but, when Thorny asked him if itwasn't capital fun, he dodged cleverly by proposingto hunt up the flowers for his master to gtudy, offeringto learn about the dangerous ones, but pleadingwant of time to investigate this pleasing science verydeeply.
 
　　As Thorny had talked himself hoarse, he was veryready to dismiss his class of one to fish the milk-bottle out of the brook; and recess was prolongedtill next day. But both boys found a new pleasurein the pretty pastime they made of it; for active Benranged the woods and fields with a tin box slung overhis shoulder, and feeble Thorny had a little roomfitted up for his own use, where he pressed flowersin newspaper books, dried herbs on the walls, hadbottles and cups, pans and platters, for his treasures,and made as much litter as he liked.
 
　　Presently, Ben brought such lively accounts of thegreen nooks where jacks-in-the-pulpit preached theirlittle sermons; brooks, beside which grew blue violetsand lovely ferns; rocks, round which danced thecolumbines like rosy elves, or the trees where birdsbuilt, squirrels chattered, and woodchucks burrowed,that Thorny was seized with a desire to go and seethese beauties for himself. So Jack was saddled, andwent plodding, scrambling, and wandering into allmanner of pleasant places, always bringing home astronger, browner rider than he carried away.
 
　　This delighted Miss Celia; and she gladly sawthem ramble off together, leaving her time to stitchhappily at certain dainty bits of sewing, write voluminonsletters, or dream over others quite as long,swinging in her hammock under the lilacs.
Chapter 13 Somebody Runs Away
     "'School is done,Now we'll have fun,"Sung Bab and Betty, slamming down theirbooks as if they never meant to take them upagain, when they came home on the last dayof June.
 
　　Tired teacher had dismissed them for eight wholeweeks, and gone away to rest; the little school-housewas shut up, lessons were over, spirits rising fast,and vacation had begun. The quiet town seemedsuddenly inundated with children, all in such arampant state that busy mothers wondered how theyever should be able to keep their frisky darlings outof mischief; thrifty fathers planned how they couldbribe the idle hands to pick berries or rake hay; andthe old folks, while wishing the young folks well,secretly blessed the man who invented schools.
 
　　The girls immediately began to talk about picnics,and have them, too; for little hats sprung up in thefields like a new sort of mushroom, -- every hillsidebloomed with gay gowns, looking as if the flowershad gone out for a walk; and the woods were full offeatherless birds chirping away as blithely as thethrushes, robins, and wrens.
 
　　The boys took to base-ball like ducks to water,and the common was the scene of tremendous battles,waged with much tumult, but little bloodshed. Tothe uninitiated, it appeared as if these young menhad lost their wits; for, no matter how warm it was,there they were, tearing about in the maddest mannet,jackets off, sleeves rolled up, queer caps flung onany way, all batting shabby leather balls, and catchingthe same, as if their lives depended on it. Everyone talking in his gruffest tone, bawling at the top ofhis voice, squabbling over every point of the game,and seeming to enjoy himself immensely, in spiteof the heat, dust, uproar, and imminent danger ofgetting eyes or teeth knocked out.
 
　　Thorny was an excellent player, but, not beingstrong enough to show his prowess, he made Benhis proxy; and, sitting on the fence, acted as umpireto his heart's content. Ben was a promising pupil,and made rapid progress; for eye, foot, and handhad been so well trained, that they did him goodservice now; and Brown was considered a first-rate"catcher".
 
　　Sancho distinguished himself by his skill in huntingup stray balls, and guarding jackets when notneeded, with the air of one of the Old Guard on dutyat the tomb of Napoleon. Bab also longed to joinin the fun, which suited her better than "stupid picnics"or "fussing over dolls;" but her heroes would nothave her at any price; and she was obliged to contentherself with sitting by Thorny, and watchingwith breathless interest the varying fortunes of "ourside."A grand match was planned for the Fourth ofJuly; but when the club met, things were found tobe unpropitious. Thorny had gone out of town withhis sister to pass the day, two of the best players didnot appear, and the others were somewhat exhaustedby the festivities, which began at sunrise for them.
 
　　So they lay about on the grass in the shade of thebig elm, languidly discussing their various wrongsand disappointments.
 
　　"It's the meanest Fourth I ever saw. Can't haveno crackers, because somebody's horse got scaredlast year," growled Sam Kitteridge, bitterly resentingthe stern edict which forbade feee-born citizens toburn as much gunpowder as they liked on that gloriousday.
 
　　"Last year Jimmy got his arm blown off whenthey fired the old cannon. Didn't we have a livelytime going for the doctors and getting him home?"asked another boy, looking as if he felt defrauded ofthe most interesting part of the anniversary, becauseno accident had occurred.
 
　　"Ain't going to be fireworks either, unless somebody'sbarn burns up. Don't I just wish there would,:
 
　　gloomily responded another youth who had so rashlyindulged in pyrotechnics on a former occasion that aneighbor's cow had been roasted whole.
 
　　"I wouldn't give two cents for such a slow oldplace as this. Why, last Fourth at this time, I wasrumbling thiough Boston streets on top of our bigcar, all in my best toggery. Ht as pepper, butgood fun looking in at the upper windows and hearingthe women scream when the old thing waggledround and I made believe I was going to tumble off,said Ben, leaning on his bat with the air of a manwho had seen the world and felt some natural regretat descending from so lofty a sphere.
 
　　"Catch me cuttin, away if I had such a chanceas that!" answered Sam, trying to balance his bat onhis chin and getting a smart rap across the nose as hefailed to perform the feat.
 
　　"Much you know about it, old chap. It's hardwork, I can tell you, and that wouldn't suit such alazy-bones. Then you are too big to begin, though youmight do for a fat boy if Smithers wanted one," saidBen, surveying the stout youth, with calm contempt.
 
　　"Let's go in swimming, not loaf round here, if wecan't play," proposed a red and shiny boy, pantingfor a game of leap-frog in Sandy pond.
 
　　"May as well; don't see much else to do," sighedSam, rising like a young elephant.
 
　　The others were about to follow, when a shrill " Hi,hi, boys, hold on!" made them turn about to beholdBilly Barton tearing down the street like a runawaycolt, waving a long strip of paper as he ran.
 
　　"Now, then, what's the matter? " demanded Ben,as the other came up grinning and puffing, but fullof great news.
 
　　"Look here, read it! I'm going; come along,the whole of you," panted Billy, putting the paperinto Sam's hand, and surveying the crowd with a faceas beaming as a full moon.
 
　　"Look out for the big show," read Sam. "VanAmburgh & Co.'s New Great Golden Menagerie, Circusand Colosseum, will exhibit at Berryville, July4th, at 1 and 7 precisely. Admission 50 cents, chil-dren half-price. Don't forget day and date. H.
 
　　Frost, Manager."While Sam read, the other boys had been gloatingover the enticing pictures which covered the bill.
 
　　There was the golden car, filled with noble beings inhelmits, all playing on immense trumpets; the twenty-four prancing steeds with manes, tails, and featheredheads tossing in the breeze; the clowns, the tumblers,the strong men, and the riders flying about in the airas if the laws of gravitation no longer existed. But,best of all, was the grand conglomeration of animalswhere the giraffe appears to stand on the elephant'sback, the zebra to be jumping over the seal, the hippopotamusto be lunching off a couple of crocodiles,and lions and tigers to be raining down in all directionswith their mouths, wide open and their tails as stiff asthat of the famous Northumberland House lion.
 
　　"Cricky! wouldn't I like to see that," said littleCyrus Fay, devoutly hoping that the cage, in whichthis pleasing spectacle took place, was a very strongone.
 
　　"You never would, it's only a picture! That,now, is something like," and Ben, who had prickedup his ears at the word "circus," laid his finger on asmaller cut of a man hanging by the back of his neckwith a child in each hand, two men suspended fromhis feet, and the third swinging forward to alight onhis head.
 
　　"I 'm going," said Sam, with calm decision, for thissuperb array of unknown pleasures fired his soul andmade him forget his weight.
 
　　"How will you fix it?" asked Ben, fingering thebill with a nervous thrill all through his wiry limbs,just as he used to feel it when his father caught himup to dash into the ring.
 
　　"Foot it with Billy. It's only four miles, andwe've got lots of time, so we can take it easy. Motherwon't care, if I send word by Cy," answered Sam, producinghalf a dollar, as if such magnificent sums wereno strangers to his pocket.
 
　　"Come on, Brown; you'll be a first-rate fellow toshow us round, as you know all the dodges," saidBilly, anxious to get his money's worth.
 
　　"Well, I don't know," began Ben, longing to go,but afraid Mrs. Moss would say "No!" if he askedleave.
 
　　"He's afraid," sneered the red-faced boy, who feltbitterly toward all mankind at that instant, becausehe knew there was no hope of his going.
 
　　"Say that again, and I'll knock your head off,"and Ben faced round with a gesture which caused theother to skip out of reach precipitately.
 
　　"Hasn't got any money, more likely," observed ashabby youth, whose pockets never had any thing inthem but a pair of dirty hands.
 
　　Ben calmly produced a dollar bill and waved itdefiantly before this doubter, observing with dignity:
 
　　"I've got money enough to treat the whole crowd,if I choose to, which I don't.""Then come along and have a jolly time with Samand me. We can buy some dinner and get a ridehome, as like as not," said the amiable Billy, witha slap on the shoulder, and a cordial grin which madeit impossible for Ben to resist.
 
　　"What are you stopping for?" demanded Sam,ready to be off, that they might "take it rasy.""Don't know what to do with Sancho. He'll getlost or stolen if I take him, and it's too far to carryhim home if you are in a hurry," began Ben, persuadinghimself that this was the true reason of his delay.
 
　　"Let Cy take him back. He'll do it for a cent;won't you, Cy?" proposed Billy, smoothing away allobjections, for he liked Ben, and saw that he wantedto go.
 
　　"No, I won't; I don't like him. He winks at me,and growls when I touch him," muttered naughty Cy,remembering how much reason poor Sanch had todistrust his tormentor.
 
　　"There 's Bab; she'll do it. Come here, sissy;Ben wants you," called Sam, beckoning to a smallfigure just perching on the fence.
 
　　Down it jumped and Came fluttering up, muchelated at being summoned by the captain of thesacred nine.
 
　　"I want you to take Sanch home, and tell yourmother I'm going to walk, and may be won't be backtill sundown. Miss Celia said I Might do what Ipleased, all day. You remember, now."Ben spoke without looking up, and affected to bevery busy buckling a strap into Sanch's collar, for thetwo were so seldom parted that the dog always rebelled.
 
　　It was a mistake on Ben's part, for while his eyeswere on his work Bab's were devouring the bill whichSam still held, and her suspicions were aroused bythe boys' faces.
 
　　"Where are you going? Ma will want to know,"she said, as curious as a magpie all at once.
 
　　"Never you mind; girls can't know every thing.
 
　　You just catch hold of this and run along home.
 
　　Lock Sanch up for an hour, and tell your mother I'mall right," answered Ben, bound to assert his manlysupremacy before his mates.
 
　　"He's going to the circus," whispered Fay, hopingto make mischief.
 
　　"Circus! Oh, Ben, do take me!" cried Bab,falling into a state of great excitement at the merethought of such delight.
 
　　"You couldn't walk four miles," began Ben.
 
　　"Yes, I could, as easy as not.""You haven't got any money.""You have; I saw you showing your dollar, andyou could pay for me, and Ma would pay it back.""Can't wait for you to get ready.""I'll go as I am. I don't care if it is my old hat,"and Bab jerked it on to her head.
 
　　"Your mother wouldn't like it.""She won't like your going, either.""She isn't my missis now. Miss Celia wouldn'tcare, and I'm going, any way.""Do, do take me, Ben! I'll be just as good asever was, and I'll take care of Sanch all the way,"pleaded Bab, clasping her hands and looking roundfor some sign of relenting in the faces of the boys.
 
　　"Don't you bother; we don't want any girls taggingafter us," said Sam, walking off to escape theannoyance.
 
　　"I'll bring you a roll of chickerberry lozengers, ifyou won't tease," whispered kind-hearted Billy, with aconsoling pat on the crown of the shabby straw hat.
 
　　"When the circus comes here you shall go, certainsure, and Betty too," said Ben, feeling mean while heproposed what he knew was a hollow mockery.
 
　　"They never do come to such little towns; yousaid so, and I think you are very cross, and I won'ttake care of Sanch, so, now!" cried Bab, getting intoa passion, yet ready to cry, she was so disappointed.
 
　　"I Suppose it wouldn't do -- " hinted Billy, with alook from Ben to the little girl, who stood winkinghard to keep the tears back.
 
　　"Of Course it wouldn't. I'd like to see her walkingeight miles. I don't mind paying for her; it'sgetting her there and back. Girls are such a botherwhen you want to knock round. No, Bab, you can'tgo. Travel right home and don't make a fuss. Comealong, boys; it 's most eleven, and we don't wantto walk fast."Ben spoke very decidedly; and, taking Billy's arm,away they went, leaving poor Bab and Sanch to watchthem out of sight, one sobbing, the other whiningdismally.
 
　　Somehow those two figures seemed to go beforeBen all along the pleasant road, and half spoilt hisfun; for though he laughed and talked, cut canes, andseemed as merry as a grig, he could not help feelingthat he ought to have asked leave to go, and beenkinder to Bab.
 
　　"Perhaps Mrs. Moss would have planned somehowso we could all go, if I'd told her, I'd like to showher round, and she's been real good to me. No usenow. I'll take the girls a lot of candy and makeit all right."He tried to settle it in that way and trudged gaylyoff, hoping Sancho wouldn't feel hurt at being left,wondering if any of "Smithers's lot" would be round,and planning to do the honors handsomely to theboys.
 
　　It was very warm; and just outside of the town theypaused by a wayside watering-trough to wash theirdusty faces, and cool off before plunging into the excitementsof the afternoon. As they stood refreshingthemselves, a baker's cart came jingling by; and Samproposed a hasty lunch while they rested. A supplyof gingerbread was soon bought; and, climbing thegreen bank above, they lay on the grass under a wildcherry-tree, munching luxuriously, while they feastedtheir eyes at the same time on the splendors awaitingthem; for the great tent, with all its flags flying, wasvisible from the hill.
 
　　"We'll cut across those fields, -- it 's shorter thangoing by the road, -- and then we can look roundoutside till it's time to go in. I want to have a goodgo at every thing, especially the lions," said Sam, beginningon his last cookie.
 
　　"I heard 'em roar just now;" and Billy stood upto gaze with big eyes at the flapping canvas which hidthe king of beasts from his longing sight.
 
　　"That was a cow mooing. Don't you be a donkey,Bill. When you hear a real roar, you'll shake in yourboots," said Ben, holding up his handkerchief to dry,after it had done double duty as towel and napkin.
 
　　"I wish you'd hurry up, Sam. Folks are going innow. I see 'em!" and Billy pranced with impatience;for this was his first circus, and he firmlybelieved that he was going to behold all that thepictures promised.
 
　　"Hold on a minute, while I get one more drink.
 
　　Buns are dry fodder," said Sam, rolling over to theedge of the bank and preparing to descend with aslittle trouble as possible.
 
　　He nearly went down head first, however; for, ashe looked before he leaped, he beheld a sight whichcaused him to stare with all his might for an instant,then turn and beckon, saying in an eager whisper,Look here, boys, -- quick!"Ben and Billy peered over, and both suppressed anastonished "Hullo!" for there stood Bab, waiting forSancho to lap his fill out of the overflowing trough.
 
　　Such a shabby, tired-looking couple as they were!
 
　　Bab with a face as red as a lobster and streaked withtears, shoes white with dust, Playfrock torn at thegathers, something bundled up in her apron, and oneshoe down at the heel as if it hurt her. Sancho lappedeagerly, with his eyes shut; all his ruffles were graywith dust, and his tail hung wearily down, the tasselat half mast, as if in mourning for the master whombe had come to find. Bab still held the strap, intenton keeping her charge safe, though she lost herself;but her courage seemed to be giving out, as shelooked anxiously up and down the road,seeing no signof the three familiar figures she had been following assteadily as a little Indian on the war-trail.
 
　　"Oh, Sanch, what shall I do if they don't comealong? We must have gone by them somewhere, forI don't see any one that way, and there isn't anyother road to the circus, seems to me."Bab spoke as if the dog could understand andanswer; and Sancho looked as if he did both, for hestopped drinking, pricked up his cars, and, fixing hissharp eyes on the grass above him, gave a suspiciousbark.
 
　　"It's only squirrels; don't mind, but come alongand be good; for I 'm so tired, I don't know what todo!" sighed Bab, trying to pull him after her as shetrudged on, bound to see the outside of that wonderfultent, even if she never got in.
 
　　But Sancho had heard a soft chirrup; and, with asudden bound, twitched the strap away, sprang up thebank, and landed directly on Ben's back as he laypeeping over. A peal of laughter greeted him; and,having got the better of his master in more ways thanone, he made the most of the advantage by playfullyworrying him as he kept him down, licking his facein spite of his struggles, burrowing in his neck with aticklish nose, snapping at his buttons, and yelpingjoyfully, as if it was the best joke in the world to playhide-and-seek for four long miles.
 
　　Before Ben could quiet him, Bab came climbing upthe bank, with such a funny mixture of fear, fatigue,determination, and relief in her dirty little face, thatthe boys could not look awful if they tried.
 
　　"How dared you come after us, miss?" demandedSam, as she looked calmly about her, and took a seatbefore she was asked.
 
　　"Sanch would come after Ben; I couldn't makehim go home, so I had to hold on till he was safe here,else he'd be lost, and then Ben would feel bad."The cleverness of that excuse tickled the boys immensely;and Sam tried again, while Ben was gettingthe dog down and sitting on him.
 
　　"Now you expect to go to the circus, I suppose.""Course I do. Ben said he didn't mind paying, ifI could get there without bothering him, and I have;and I'll go home alone. I ain't afraid. Sanch will takecare of me, if you won't," answered Bab, stoutly.
 
　　"What do you suppose your mother will say toyou?" asked Ben, feeling much reproached by herlast words.
 
　　"I guess she'll say you led me into mischief;and the sharp child nodded, as if she defied him todeny the truth of that.
 
　　"You'll catch it when you get home, Ben; so you'dbetter have a good time while you can," advised Sam.
 
　　thinking Bab great fun, since none of the blame ofher pranks would fall on him.
 
　　"What would you have done if you hadn't found us?" asked Billy, forgetting his impatience in his admirationfor this plucky young lady.
 
　　"I'd have gone on and seen the circus, and then I'dhave gone home again and told Betty all about it,"was the prompt answer.
 
　　"But you haven't any money.""Oh, I'd ask somebody to pay for me. I 'm solittle, it wouldn't be much.""Nobody would do it; so you'd have to stay outside,you see.""No, I wouldn't. I thought of that, and plannedhow I'd fix it if I didn't find Ben. I'd make Sanchdo his tricks, and get a quarter that way; so, now!
 
　　answered Bab, undaunted by any obstacle.
 
　　"I do believe she would! You are a smart child,Bab; and if I had enough I'd take you in myself,"said Billy, heartily; for, having sisters of his own,he kept a soft place in his heart for girls, especiallyenterprising ones.
 
　　"I'll take care of her. It was very naughty tocome, Bab; but, so long as you did, you needn'tworry about any thing. I'll see to you; and youshall have a real good time," said Ben, accepting hisresponsibilities without a murmur, and bound to dothe handsome thing by his persistent friend.
 
　　"I thought you would;" and Bab folded her arms,as if she had nothing further to do but enjoy herself.
 
　　"Are you hungry?" asked Billy, fishing out severalfragments of gingerbread.
 
　　"Starving!" and Bab ate them with such a relishthat Sam added a small contribution; and Bencaught some water for her in his hand, where thelittle spring bubbled up beside a stone.
 
　　"Now, you wash your face and spat down yourhair, and put your hat on straight, and then we'llgo," commanded Ben, giving Sanch a roll on thegrass to clean him.
 
　　Bab scrubbed her face till it shone; and, pullingdown her apron to wipe it, scattered a load oftreasures collected in her walk. Some of the deadflowers, bits of moss, and green twigs fell near Ben,and one attracted his attention, -- a spray of broad,smooth leaves, with a bunch of whitish berries on it.
 
　　"Where did you get that?" he asked, poking itwith his foot.
 
　　"In a swampy place, coming along. Sanch sawsomething down there; and I went with him, 'causeI thought may be it was a musk-rat, and you'd likeone if we could get him.""Was it?" asked the boys all at once, and withintense interest.
 
　　"No; only a snake, and I don't care for snakes.
 
　　I picked some of that, it was so green and pretty.
 
　　Thorny likes queer leaves and berries, you know,"answered Bab, "spatting," down her rough locks.
 
　　"Well, he won't like that, nor you either; it'spoisonous, and I shouldn't wonder if you'd gotpoisoned, Bab. Don't touch it! Swamp-sumach ishorrid stuff, -- Miss Celia said so;" and Ben lookedanxiously at Bab, who felt her chubby face all over,and examined her dingy hands with a solemn air,asking, eagerly, --"Will it break out on me 'fore I get to the circus?""Not for a day or so, I guess; but it's bad whenit does come.""I don't care, if I see the animals first. Comequick, and never mind the old weeds and things,"said Bab, much relieved; for present bliss was allshe had room for now in her happy little heart.
Chapter 14 Somebody Gets Lost
     Putting all care behind them, the young folksran down the hill, with a very lively dog gambollingbeside them, and took a delightfullytantalizing survey of the external charms of the bigtent. But people were beginning to go in, and itwas impossible to delay when they came round tothe entrance.
 
　　Ben felt that now "his foot was on his nativeheath," and the superb air of indifference with whichhe threw down his dollar at the ticket-office, carelesslyswept up the change, and strolled into the tentwith his hands in his pockets, was so impressive thateven big Sam repressed his excitement and meeklyfollowed their leader, as he led them from cage tocage, doing the honors as if he owned the whole concern.
 
　　Bab held tight to the flap of his jacket, staringabout her with round eyes, and listening withlittle gasps of astonishment or delight to the roaringof lions, the snarling of tigers, the chatter of themonkeys, the groaning of camels, and the music ofthe very brass band shut up in a red bin.
 
　　Five elephants were tossing their hay about in themiddle of the menagerie, and Billy's legs shook underhim as he looked up at the big beasts whose longnoses and small, sagacious eyes filled him with awe.
 
　　Sam was so tickled by the droll monkeys that theothers left him before the cage and went on to seethe zebra, "striped just like Ma's muslin gown," Babdeclared. But the next minute she forgot all abouthim in her raptures over the ponies and their tinycolts; especially one mite of a thing who lay asleepon the hay, such a miniature copy of its little mouse-coloredmamma that one could hardly believe it was alive.
 
　　"Oh, Ben, I must feel of it! -- the cunning babyhorse!" and down went Bab inside the rope to patand admire the pretty creature, while its mothersmelt suspiciously at the brown hat, and baby lazilyopened one eye to see what was going on.
 
　　"Come out of that, it isn't allowed" commandedBen, longing to do the same thing, but mindful of theproprieties and his own dignity.
 
　　Bab reluctantly tore herself away to find consolationin watching the young lions, who looked so likebig puppies, and the tigers washing their faces justas puss did.
 
　　"If I stroked 'em, wouldn't they purr?" sheasked, bent on enjoying herself, while Ben held herskirts lest she should try the experiment.
 
　　"You'd better not go to patting them, or you'llget your hands clawed up. Tigers do purr like funwhen they are happy, but these fellers never are, andyou'll only see 'em spit and snarl," said Ben, leadingthe way to the humpy carrels, who were peacefullychewing their cud and longing for the desert,with a dreamy, far-away look in their mournful eyes.
 
　　Here, leaning on the rope, and scientifically bitinga straw while he talked, Ben played showman to hisheart's content till the neigh of a horse from thecircus tent beyond reminded him of the joys to come.
 
　　"We'd better hurry along and get good seats beforefolks begin to crowd. I want to sit near the curtainand see if any of Smitthers's lot are 'round.""I ain't going way off there; you can't see half sowell, and that big drum makes such a noise you can'thear yourself think," said Sam, who had rejoinedthem.
 
　　So they settled in good places where they couldsee and hear all that went on in the ring and stillcatch glimpses of white horses, bright colors, and theglitter of helmets beyond the dingy red curtains. Bentreated Bab to peanuts and pop-corn like an indulgentparent, and she murmured protestations of undyinggratitude with her mouth full, as she sat blissfullybetween him and the congenial Billy.
 
　　Sancho, meantime, had been much excited by thefamiliar sights and sounds, and now was greatly exercisedin his doggish mind at the unusual proceedingof his master; for he was sure that they ought to bewithin there, putting on their costumes, ready to taketheir turn. He looked anxiously at Ben, sniffeddisdainfully at the strap as if to remind him that ascarlet ribbon ought to take its place, and poked peanutshells about with his paw as if searching for the letterswith which to spell his famous name.
 
　　"I know, old boy, I know; but it can't be done.
 
　　We've quit the busin'ess and must just look on. Nolarks for us this time, Sanch, so keep quiet and behave,'
 
　　whispered Ben, tucking the dog away underthe seat with a sympathetic cuddle of the curly headthat peeped out from between his feet.
 
　　"He wants to go and cut up, don't he?" said Billy,"and so do you, I guess. Wish you were goingto. Wouldn't it be fun to see Ben showing off inthere?""I'd be afraid to have him go up on a pile of elephantsand jump through hoops like these folks," answeredBab, poring over her pictured play-bill withunabated relish.
 
　　"Done it a hundred times, and I'd just like toshow you what I can do. They don't seem to haveany boys in this lot; shouldn't wonder if they'd takeme if I asked 'em," said Ben, moving uneasily on hisseat and casting wistful glances toward the inner tentwhere he knew he would feel more at home than inhis present place.
 
　　"I heard some men say that it's against the law tohave small boys now; it's so dangerous and not goodfor them, this kind of thing. If that's so, you're donefor, Ben," observed Sam, with his most grown-up air,remembering Ben's remarks on "fat boys.""Don't believe a word of it, and Sanch and I couldgo this minute and get taken on, I'll bet. We are avaluable couple, and I could prove it if I chose to,"began Ben, getting excited and boastful.
 
　　"Oh, see, they're coming! -- gold carriages andlovely horses, and flags and elephants, and everything, cried Bab, giving a clutch at Ben's arm asthe opening procession appeared headed by the band,tooting and banging till their faces were as red astheir uniforms.
 
　　Round and round they went till every one had seentheir fill, then the riders alone were left caracolingabout the ring with feathers flying, horses prancing,and performers looking as tired and indifferent as ifthey would all like to go to sleep then and there.
 
　　"How splendid!" sighed Bab, as they went dashing out,to tumble off almost before the horses stopped.
 
　　"That's nothing! You wait till you see the barebackriding and the 'acrobatic exercises,' " said Ben,quoting from the play-bill, with the air of one whoknew all about the feats to come, and could never besurprised any more.
 
　　"What are 'crowbackic exercises'?" asked Billy,thirsting for information.
 
　　"Leaping and climbing and tumbling; you'll seeGeorge! what a stunning horse!" and Ben forgotevery thing else to feast his eyes on the handsomecreature who now came pacing in to dance, upsetand replace chairs, kneel, bow, and perform manywonderful or graceful feats, ending with a swift gallopwhile the rider sat in a chair on its back fanninghimself, with his legs crossed, as comfortably as youplease.
 
　　"That, now, is something like," and Ben's eyes shonewith admiration and envy as the pair vanished, and thepink and silver acrobats came leaping into the ring.
 
　　The boys were especially interested in this part,and well they might be; for strength and agility aremanly attributes which lads appreciate, and theselively fellows flew about like India-rubber balls, eachtrying to outdo the other, till the leader of the acrobatscapped the climax by turning a double somersaultover five elephants standing side by side.
 
　　"There, Sir, how's that for a jump?" asked Ben,rubbing his hands with satisfaction as his friendsclapped till their palms tingled.
 
　　"We'll rig up a spring-board and try it," saidBilly, fired with emulation.
 
　　"Where'll you get your elephants?" asked Sam,scornfully. for gymnastics were not in his line.
 
　　"You'll do for one," retorted Ben, and Billy andBab joined in his laugh so heartily that a rough-looking, man who sat behind them, hearing all theysaid, pronounced them a "jolly set," and kept his eyeon Sancho, who now showed signs of insubordination.
 
　　"Hullo, that wasn't on the bill!" cried Ben, as aparti-colored clown came in, followed by half a dozendogs.
 
　　"I'm so glad; now Sancho will like it. There's apoodle that might be his ownty donty brother -- theone with the blue ribbon," said Bab. beaming with delightas the dogs took their seats in the chairs arrangedfor them.
 
　　Sancho did like it only too well, for be scrambledout from under the seat in a great hurry to go andgreet his friends; and, being sharply checked, sat upand begged so piteously that Ben found it very hardto refuse and order him down. He subsided for amoment, but when the black spaniel, who acted thecanine clown, did something funny and was applauded,Sancho made a dart as if bent on leaping into thering to outdo his rival, and Ben was forced to boxhis ears and put his feet on the poor beast, fearing hewould be ordered out if he made any disturbance.
 
　　Too well trained to rebel again, Sancho lay meditatingon his wrongs till the dog act was over, carefullyabstaining from any further sign of interest intheir tricks, and only giving a sidelong g;ance at thetwo little poodles who came out of a basket to runup and down stairs on their fore-paws, dance jigs ontheir hind-legs, and play various pretty pranks to thegreat delight of all the children in the audience. Ifever a dog expressed by look and attitude, "Pooh!
 
　　I could fo much better than that, and astonish youall, if I were only allowed to," that dog was Sancho,as he curled himself up and affected to turn his backon an unappreciative world.
 
　　"It's too bad, when he knows motr than all thosechaps put together. I'd give any thing if I couldshow him off as I used to. Folks always like it, andI was ever so proud of him. He's mad now becauseI had to cuff him, and won't take any notice of metill I make up," said Ben, regretfully eying his offendedfriend, but not daring to beg pardon yet.
 
　　More riding followed, and Bab was kept in a breathlessstate by the marvellous agility and skill of thegauzy lady who drove four horses at once, leapedthrough hoops, over banners and bars, sprang off andon at full speed, and seemed to enjoy it all so muchit was impossible to believe that there could be anydanger or exertion in it. Then two girls flew abouton the trapeze, and walked on a tight rope, causingBab to feel that she had at last found her sphere; for,young as she was, her mother often said,"I really don't know what this child is fit for, exceptmischief, like a monkey.""I'll fix the clothes-line when I get home, andshow Ma how nice it is. Then, may be, she'd let mewear red and gold trousers, and climb round likethese girls," thought the busy little brain, much excitedby all it saw on that memorable day.
 
　　Nothing short of a pyramid of elephants with aglittering gentleman in a turban and top boots on thesummit would have made her forget this new andcharming plan. But that astonishing spectacle, andthe prospect of a cage of Bengal tigers with a manamong them, in immenent danger of being eatenbefore her eyes, entirely absorbed her thoughts till,just as the big animals went lumbering out, a peal ofthunder caused considerable commotion in the audience.
 
　　Men on the highest seats popped their headsthrough the openings in the tent-cover and reportedthat a heavy shower was coming up. Anxious mothersbegan to collect their flocks of children as hens dotheir chickens at sunset; timid people told cheerfulstories of tents blown over in gales, cages upset andwild beasts let loose. Many left in haste, and theperformers hurried to finish as soon as possible.
 
　　"I'm going now before the crowd comes, so I canget a lift home. I see two or three folks I know, soI'm off;" and, climbing hastily down, Sam vanishedwithout further ceremony.
 
　　"Better wait till the shower is over. We can goand see the animals again, and get home all dry, justas well as not," observed Ben, encouraginly, as Billylooked anxiously at the billowing canvas over hishead, the swaying posts before him, and heard thequick patter of drops outside, not to mention themelancholy roar of the lion which sounded rather awfulthrough the sudden gloom which filled the strangeplace.
 
　　"I wouldn't miss the tigers for any thing. See,they are pulling in the cart now, and the shiny manis all ready with his gun. Will he shoot any of them,apprehension, for the sharp crack of a rifle startled hermore than the loudest thunder-clap she ever heard.
 
　　"Bless you, no, child; it 's only powder to makea noise and scare 'em. I wouldn't like to be in hisplace, though; father says you can never trust tiglersas you can lions, no matter how tame they are. Slyfellers, like cats, and when they scratch it's no joke,I tell you," answered Ben, with a knowing wag of thehead, as the sides of the cage rattled down, and thepoor, fierce creatures were seen leaping and snarlingas if they resented this display of their captivity.
 
　　Bab curled up her feet and winked fast with excitementas she watched the "shiny man" fondle thegreat cats, lie down among them, pull open their redmouths, and make them leap over him or crouch athis feet as be snapped the long whip. When he firedthe gun and they all fell as if dead, she with difficultysuppressed a small scream and clapped her handsover her ears; but poor Billy never minded it a bit,for he was pale and quaking with the fear of "heaven'sartillery" thundering overhead, and as a brighht flashof lightning seemed to run down the tall tent-poles hehid his eyes and wished with all his heart that he wassafe with mother.
 
　　"Afraid of thunder, Bill?" asked Ben, trying tospeak stoutly, while a sense of his own responsibilitiesbegan to worry him, for how was Bab to be got homein such a pouring rain?
 
　　"It makes me sick; always did. Wish I hadn'tcome," sighed Billy, feeling, all too late, that lemonadeand "lozengers" were not the fittest food for man, ora stifling tent the best place to be in on a hot Julyday, especially in a thunder-storm.
 
　　"I didn't ask you to come; you asked me; so itisn't my fault," said Ben, rather gruffly, as peoplecrowded by without pausing to hear the comic songthe clown was singing in spite of the confusion.
 
　　"Oh, I'm so tired," groaned Bab, getting up witha long stretch of arms and legs.
 
　　"You'll be tireder before you get home, I guess.
 
　　Nobody asked you to Come, any way;" and Bengazed dolefully round him, wishing he could see afamiliar face or find a wiser head than his own to helphim out of the scrape he was in.
 
　　"I said I wouldn't be a bother, and I won't. I'llwalk right home this minute. I ain't afraid of thunder,and the rain won't hurt these old clothes. Comealong," cried Bab, bravely, bent on keeping her word,though it looked much harder after the fun was allover than before.
 
　　"My head aches like fury. Don't I wish old Jackwas here to take me back," said Billy, following hiscompanions in misfortune with sudden energy, as alouder peal than before rolled overhead.
 
　　"You might as well wish for Lita and the coveredwagon while you are about it, then we could all ride,"answered Ben, leading the way to the outer tent, wheremany people were lingering in hopes of fair weather.
 
　　"Why, Billy Barton, how in the world did you gethere? " cried a surprised voice as the crook of a canecaught the boy by the collar and jerkcd him face toface with a young farmer, who was pushing along,followed by his, wife and two or three children.
 
　　"Oh, Uncle Eben, I'm so glad you found Me! Iwalked over, and it's raining, and I don't feel well.
 
　　Let me go with you, can't I? " asked Billy, castinghimself and all his woes upon the strong arm thathad laid hold of him.
 
　　"Don't see what your mother was about to let youcome so far alone, and you just over scarlet fever.
 
　　We are as full as ever we can be, but we'll tuck youin somehow," said the pleasant-faced woman, bundlingup her baby, and bidding the two little lads"keep close to father.""I didn't come alone. Sam got a ride, and can'tyou tuck Ben and Bab in too? They ain't very big,either of them," whispeied Billy, anxious to serve hisfriends now that he was provided for himself.
 
　　"Can't do it, any way. Got to pick up mother atthe corner, and that will be all I can carry. It'slifting a little; hurry along, Lizzie, and let us getout of this as quick is possible," said Uncle Eben,impatiently; for going to a circus with a youngfamily is not an easy task, as every one knows whohas ever tried it.
 
　　"Ben, I'm real sorry there isn't room for you.
 
　　I'll tell Bab's mother where she is, and may be someone will come for you," said Billy, hurriedly, as hetore himself away, feeling rather mean to desert theothers, though he could be of no use.
 
　　"Cut away, and don't mind us. I'm all right, andBab must do the best she can," was all Ben had timeto answer before his comrade was hustled away bythe crowd pressing round the entrance with muchclashing of umbrellas and scrambling of boys andmen, who rather enjoyed the flurry.
 
　　"No use for us to get knocked about in thatscrimmage. We'll wait a minute and then go outeasy. It's a regular rouser, and you'll be as wet asa sop before we get home. Hope you'll like that?"added Ben, looking out at the heavy rain poringdown as if it never meant to stop.
 
　　"Don't care a bit," said Bab, swinging on one ofthe ropes with a happy-go-lucky air, for her spiritswere not extinguished yet, and she was bound toenjoy this exciting holiday to the very end. "I likecircuses so much! I wish I lived here all the time,and slept in a wagon, as you did, and had these dearlittle colties to play with.""It wouldn't be fun if you didn't have any folksto take care of you," began Ben, thoughtfully lookingabout the familiar place where the men were nowfeeding the animals, setting their refreshment tables,or lounging on the hay to get such rest as theycould before the evening entertainment. Suddenlyhe started, gave a long look, then turned to Bab, andthrusting Sancho's strap into her hand, said, hastily:
 
　　"I see a fellow I used to know. May be he can tellme something about father. Don't you stir till Icome back."Then he was off like a shot, and Bab saw him runafter a man with a bucket who bad been watering thezebra. Sancho tried to follow, but was checked withan impatient,--"No, you can't go! What a plague you are,tagging around when people don't want you."Sancho might have answered, "So are you," but,being a gentlemanly dog, he sat down with a resignedexpression to watch the little colts, who were nowawake and seemed ready for a game of bo-peep behindtheir mammas. Bab enjoyed their funny littlefrisks so much that she tied the wearisome strap toa post, and crept under the rope to pet the tinymouse-colored one who came and talked to her withbaby whinnies and confiding glances of its soft, darkeyes.
 
　　"Oh, luckless Bab! why did you turn your back?
 
　　Oh, too accomplished Sancho! why did you neatlyuntie that knot and trot away to confer with the disreputablebull-dog who stood in the entrance beckoning withfriendly wavings of an abbreviated tail?
 
　　Oh, much afflicted Ben! why did you delay till itwas too late to save your pet from the rough manwho set his foot upon the trailing strap, and led poorSanch quickly out of sight among the crowd?
 
　　"It was Bascum, but he didn't know any thing.
 
　　Why, where's Sanch?" said Ben, returning.
 
　　A breathless voice made Bab turn to see Benlooking about him with as much alarm in his hotface as if the dog had been a two years' child.
 
　　"I tied him -- he's here somewhere --ith theponies," stammered Bab, in sudden dismay, for nosign of a dog appeared as her eyes roved wildly toand fro.
 
　　Ben whistled, called and searched in vain, till oneof the lounging men said, lazily,"If you are looking after the big poodle you'dbetter go outside; I saw him trotting off with anotherdog."Away rushed Ben, with Bab following, regardlessof the rain, for both felt that a great misfortune hadbefallen them. But, long before this, Sancho hadvanished, and no one minded his indignant howls ashe was driven off in a covered cart.
 
　　"If he is lost I'll never forgive you; never, never,never!" and Ben found it impossible to resist givingBab several hard shakes, which made her yellowbraids fly up and down like pump handles.
 
　　"I'm dreadful sorry. He'll come back -- yousaid he always did," pleaded Bab, quite crushed byher own afflictions, and rather scared to see Ben lookso fierce, for he seldom lost his temper or was roughwith the little girls.
 
　　"If he doesn't come back, don't you speak to mefor a year. Now, I'm going home." And, feelingthat words were powerless to express his emotions,Ben walked away, looking as grim as a small boycould.
 
　　A more unhappy little lass is seldom to be foundthan Bab was, as she pattered after him, splashingrecklessly through the puddles, and getting as wetand muddy as possible, as a sort of penance for hersins. For a mile or two she trudged stoutly along,while Ben marched before in solemn silence, whichsoon became both impressive and oppressive becauseso unnsual, and such a proof of his deep displeasure.
 
　　Penitent Bab longed for just one word, one sign ofrelenting; and when none came, she began to wonderhow she could possibly bear it if he kept his dreadfulthreat and did not speak to her for a whole year.
 
　　But presently her own discomfort absorbed her,for her feet were wet and cold as well as very tired;pop-corn and peanuts were not particularly nourishing food;and hunger made her feel faint; excitementwas a new thing, and now that it was over she longedto lie down and go to sleep; then the long walk witha circus at the end seemed a very different affair fromthe homeward trip with a distracted mother awaitingher. The shower had subsided into a dreary drizzle,a chilly east wind blew up, the hilly road seemed tolengthen before the weary feet, and the mute, blueflannel figure going on so fast with never a lookor sound, added the last touch to Bab's remorsefulanguish.
 
　　Wagons passed, but all were full, and no one offereda ride. Men and boys went by with rough jokes onthe forlorn pair, for rain soon made them look likeyoung tramps. But there was no brave Sancho toresent the impertinence, and this fact was sadlybrought to both their minds by the appearance of agreat Newfoundland dog who came trotting after acarriage. The good creature stopped to say a friendlyword in his dumb fashion, looking up at Bab withbenevolent eyes, and poking his nose into Ben's handbefore he bounded away with his plumy tail curledover his back.
 
　　Ben started as the cold nose touched his fingers,gave the soft head a lingering pat, and watched thedog out of sight through a thicker mist than any therain made. But Bab broke down; for the wistful lookof the creature's eyes reminded her of lost Sancho,and she sobbed quietly as she glanced back longingto see the dear old fellow jogging along in the rear.
 
　　Ben heard the piteous sound and took a sly peepover his shoulder, seeing such a mournful spectaclethat he felt appeased, saying to himself as if to excusehis late sternness, --"She is a naughty girl, but I guess she is aboutsorry enough now. When we get to that sign-postI'll speak to her, only I won't forgive her till Sanchcomes back."But he was better than his word; for, just beforethe post was reached, Bab, blinded by tears, trippedover the root of a tree, and, rolling down the bank,landed in a bed of wet nettles. Ben had her out in ajiffy, and vainly tried to comfort her; but she waspast any consolation he could offer, and roared dismallyas she wrung her tingling hands, with greatdrops running over her cheeks almost as fast as themuddy little rills ran down the road.
 
　　"Oh dear, oh dear! I'm all stinged up, and I wantmy supper; and my feet ache, and I'm cold, andevery thing is so horrid!" wailed the poor child lyingon the grass, such a miserable little wet bunch thatthe sternest parent would have melted at the sight.
 
　　"Don't cry so, Babby; I was real cross, and I'msorry. I'll forgive you right away now, and nevershake you any more," cried Ben, so full of pity forher tribulations that he forgot his own, like agenerous little man.
 
　　"Shake me again, if you want to; I know I wasvery bad to tag and lose Sanch. I never will anymore, and I'm so sorry, I don't know what to do,"answered Bab, completely bowed down by this magnanimity.
 
　　"Never mind; you just wipe up your face and comealong, and we'll tell Ma all about it, and she'll fix usas nice as can be. I shouldn't wonder if Sanch gothome now before we did," said Ben, cheering himselfas well as her by the fond hope.
 
　　"I don't believe I ever shall. I'm so tired my legswon't go, and the water in my boots makes them feeldreadfully. I wish that boy would wheel me a piece.
 
　　Don't you s'pose he would? asked Bab, wearily pickingherself up as a tall lad trundling a barrow cameout of a yard near by.
 
　　"Hullo, Joslyn!" said Ben, recognizing the boy asone of the "hill fellows" who came to town Saturdaynights for play or business.
 
　　"Hullo, Brown! " responded the other, arrestinghis squeaking progress with signs of surprise at themoist tableau before him.
 
　　"Where goin'? " asked Ben with masculine brevity.
 
　　"Got to carry this home, hang the old thing.""Where to?""Batchelor's, down yonder," and the boy pointedto a farm-house at the foot of the next hill.
 
　　"Goin' that way, take it right along.""What for?" questioned the prudent youth,distrusting such unusual neighborliness.
 
　　"She's tired, wants a ride; I'll leave it all right,true as I live and breathe," explained Ben, halfashamed yet anxious to get his little responsibilityhome as soon as possible, for mishaps seemed tothicken.
 
　　"Ho, you couldn't cart her all that way! she'smost as heavy as a bag of meal," jeered the taller lad,amused at the proposition.
 
　　"I'm stronger than most fellers of my size. Try,if I ain't," and Ben squared off in such scientific stylethat Joslyn responded with sudden amiability, --"All right, let's see you do it."Bab huddled into her new equipage without theleast fear, and Ben trundled her off at a good pace,while the boy retired to the shelter of a barn to watchtheir progress, glad to be rid of an irksome errand.
 
　　At first, all went well, for the way was down hill,and the wheel squeaked briskly round and round;Bab smiled gratefully upon her bearer, and Ben"went in on his muscle with a will," as he expressedit. But presently the road grew sandy, began toascend, and the load seemed to grow heavier withevery step.
 
　　"I'll get out now. It's real nice, but I guess I amtoo heavy," said Bab, as the face before her got redderand redder, and the breath began to come in puffs.
 
　　"Sit still. He said I couldn't. I'm not going togive in with him looking on," panted Ben, and hepushed gallantly up the rise, over the grassy lawn tothe side gate of the Batchelors' door-yard, with hishead down, teeth set, and every muscle of his slenderbody braced to the task.
 
　　"Did ever ye see the like of that now? Ah, ha!
 
　　"The streets were so wide, and the lanes were so narry,He brought his wife home on a little wheelbarry,"sung a voice with an accent which made Ben drop hisload and push back his hat, to see Pat's red headlooking over the fence.
 
　　To have his enemy behold him then and there wasthe last bitter drop in poor Ben's cup of humiliation.
 
　　A shrill approving whistle from the hill was somecomfort, however, and gave him spirit to help Babout with composure, though his hands were blisteredand he had hardly breath enough to issue the Command, --"Go along home, and don't mind him.""Nice childer, ye are, runnin' off this way, settin'
 
　　the women distracted, and me wastin' me time comin'
 
　　after ye when I'd be milkin' airly so I'd get a bit ofpleasure the day," grumbled Pat, coming up to untiethe Duke, whose Roman nose Ben had already recognized,as well as the roomy chaise standing before thedoor.
 
　　"Did Billy tell you about us?" asked Bab, gladlyfollowing toward this welcome refuge.
 
　　"Faith he did, and the Squire sent me to fetch yehome quiet and aisy. When ye found me, I'd jiststopped here to borry a light for me pipe. Up widye, b'y, and not be wastin' me time stramashin' after aspalpeen that I'd like to lay me whip over," said Pat,gruffly, as Ben came along, having left the barrow inthe shed.
 
　　"Don't you wish you could? You needn't waitfor me; I'll come when I'm ready," answered Bendodging round the chaise, bound not to mind Pat, ifhe spent the night by the road-side in consequence.
 
　　"Bedad, and I won't then. It's lively ye are; butfour legs is better than two, as ye'll find this night,me young man."With that he whipped up and was off before Babcould say a word to persuade Ben to humble himselffor the sake of a ride. She lamented and Pat chuckled,both forgetting what an agile monkey the boy was,and as neither looked back, they were unawareMaster Ben was hanging on behind among the strapsand springs, making derisive grimaces at his unconsciousfoe through the little glass in the leathernback.
 
　　At the lodge gate Ben jumped down to run beforewith whoops of naughty satisfaction, which broughtthe anxious waiters to the door in a flock; so Patcould only shake his fist at the exulting little rascalas he drove away, leaving the wanderers to bewelcomed as warmly as if they were a pair of modelchildren.
 
　　Mrs. Moss had not been very much troubled afterall; for Cy had told her that Bab went after Ben, andBilly had lately reported her safe arrival among them,so, mother-like, she fed, dried, and warmed the runaways,before she scolded them.
 
　　Even then, the lecture was a mild one, for whenthey tried to tell the adventures which to them seemedso exciting, not to say tragical, the effect astonishedthem immensely, as their audience went into gales oflaughter, especially at the wheelbarrow episode, whichPat insisted on telling, with grateful minuteness, toBen's confusion. Thorny shouted, and even tender-hearted Betty forgot her tears over the lost dog tojoin in the familiar melody when Bab mimicked Pat'squotation from Mother Goose.
 
　　"We must not laugh any more, or these naughtychildren will think they have done something veryclever in running away," said Miss Celia, when thefun subsided, adding, soberly, "I am displeased, butI will say nothing, for I think Ben is already punishedenough.""Guess I am," muttered Ben, with a choke in hisvoice as he glanced towaid the empty mat where adear curly bunch used to he with a bright eye twinklingout of the middle of it.
Chapter 15 Ben's Ride
     Great was the mourning for Sancho, becausehis talents and virtues made him universallyadmired and beloved. Miss Celia advertised,Thorny offered rewards, and even surly Pat kept asharp look-out for poodle dogs when he went tomarket; but no Sancho or any trace of him appeared.
 
　　Ben was inconsolable, and sternly said itserved Bab right when the dogwood poison affectedboth face and hands. Poor Bab thought so, too,and dared ask no sympathy from him, though Thornyeagerly prescribed plantain leaves, and Betty kept hersupplied with an endless succession of them steepedin cream and pitying tears. This treatment was sosuccessful that the patient soon took her place insociety as well as ever, but for Ben's affliction there wasno cure, and the boy really suffered in his spirits.
 
　　"I don't think it's fair that I should have so muchtrouble, -- first losing father and then Sanch. If itwasn't for Lita and Miss Celia, I don't believe I couldstand it," he said, one day, in a fit of despair, about aweek after the sad event.
 
　　"Oh, come now, don't give up so, old fellow. We'llfind him if he s alive, and if he isn't I'll try and getyou another as good," answered Thorny, with afriendly slap on the shoulder, as Ben sat disconsolatelyamong the beans he had been hoeing.
 
　　"As if there ever could be another half as good!"cried Ben, indignant at the idea; "or as if I'd evertry to fill his place with the best and biggest dog thatever wagged a tail! No, sir, there's only one Sanchin all the world, and if I can't have him I'll neverhave a dog again.""Try some other sort of pet, then. You may haveany of mine you like. Have the peacocks; do now,"urged Thorny, full of boyish sympathy and good-will.
 
　　"They are dreadful pretty, but I don't seem to careabout em, thank you," replied the mourner.
 
　　"Have the rabbits, all of them," which was a handsomeoffer on Thorny's part, for there were a dozenat least.
 
　　"They don't love a fellow as a dog does; all theycare for is stuff to eat and dirt to burrow in. I'msick of rabbits." And well he might be, for he hadhad the charge of them ever since they came, andany boy who has ever kept bunnies knows what acare they are.
 
　　"So am I! Guess we'll have an auction and sellout. Would Jack be a comfort to you? If he will,you may have him. I'm so well now, I can walk,or ride anything," added Thorny, in a burst ofgenerosity.
 
　　"Jack couldn't be with me always, as Sanch was,and I couldn't keep him if I had him."Ben tried to be grateful, but nothing short of Litawould have healed his wounded heart, and she wasnot Thorny's to give, or he would probably haveoffered her to his afflicted friend.
 
　　"Well, no, you couldn't take Jack to bed with you,or keep him up in your room, and I'm afraid heWould never learn to do any thing clever. I do wishI had something you wanted, I'd so love to give it toyou."He spoke so heartily and was so kind that Ben lookedup, feeling that he had given him one of the sweetestthings in the world -- friendship; he wanted to tell himso, but did not know how to do it, so caught up his hoeand fell to work, saying, in a tone Thorny understoodbetter than words, --"You are real good to me -never mind, I won'tworry about it; only it seems extra hard coming so soonafter the other--"He stopped there, and a bright drop fell on the beanleaves, to shine like dew till Ben saw clearly enough tobury it out of sight in a great flurry.
 
　　"By Jove! I'll find that dog, if he is out of theground. Keep your spirits up, my lad, and we'll havethe dear old fellow back yet."With which cheering prophecy Thorny went off torack his brains as to what could be done about thematter.
 
　　Half an hour afterward, the sound of a hand-organ inthe avenue roused him from the brown study into whichhe had fallen as he lay on the newly mown grass of thelawn. Peeping over the wall, Thorny reconnoitred,and, finding the organ a good one, the man a pleasant-faced Italian, and the monkey a lively animal, heordered them all in, as a delicate attention to Ben,for music and monkey together might suggest soothingmemories of the past, and so be a comfort.
 
　　In they came by way of the Lodge, escorted by Baband Betty, full of glee, for hand-organs were rare inthose parts, and the children delighted in them. Smilingtill his white teeth shone and his black eyessparkled, the man played away while the monkeymade his pathetic little bows, and picked up the penniesThorny threw him.
 
　　"It is warm, and you look tired. Sit down and I'llget you Some dinner," said the young master, pointingto the seat which now stood near the great gate.
 
　　With thanks in broken English the man gladlyobeyed, and Ben begged to be allowed to make Jackoequally comfortable, explaining that he knew all aboutmonkeys and what they liked. So the poor thing wasfreed from his cocked hat and uniform, fed with breadand milk, and allowed to curl himself up in the coolgrass for a nap, looking so like a tired littie old manin a fur coat that the children were never weary ofwatching him.
 
　　Meantime, Miss Celia had come out, and was talkingItalian to Giacomo in a way that delighted hishomesick heart. She had been to Naples, and couldunderstand his longing for the lovely city of his birth,so they had a little chat in the language which is allMusic, andd the good fellow was so grattful that heplayed for the children to dance till they were glad tostop, lingering afterward as if he hated to set out againupon his lonely, dusty walk.
 
　　"I'd rather like to tramp round with him for a weekor so. Could make enough to live on as easy as not,if I only I had sanch to show off," said Ben, as he wascoaxing Jacko into the suit which he detested.
 
　　"You go wid me, yes?" asked the man, nodding andsmiling, well pleased at the prospect of company, forhis quick eye and what the boys let fall in their talkshowed him that Ben was not one of them.
 
　　If I had my dog I'd love to," and with sad eagernessBen told the tale of his loss, for the thought of itwas never long out of his mind.
 
　　"I tink I see droll dog like he, way off in New York.
 
　　He do leetle trick wid letter, and dance, and go on hehead, and many tings to make laugh," said the man,when he had listened to a list of Sanch's beauties andaccomplishments.
 
　　"Who had him? " asked Thorny, full of interest atonce.
 
　　"A man I not know. Cross fellow what beat himwhen he do letters bad.""Did he spell his name?" cried Ben, breathlessly.
 
　　"No; that for why man beat him. He name Generale,and he go spell Sancho all times, and cry whenwhip fall on him. Ha! yes! that name true one; notGenerale? " and the man nodded, waved his hands,and showed his teeth, almost as much excited as theboys.
 
　　"It's Sanch! let's go and get him now, right off!
 
　　cried Ben, in a fever to be gone.
 
　　"A hundred miles away, and no clue but this man'sstory? We must wait a little, Ben, and be sure beforewe set out," said Miss Celia, ready to do almost anything, but not so certain as the boys. " What sort ofa dog was it? A large, curly, white poodle, with aqueer tail ?" she asked of Giacomo.
 
　　"No, Signorina mia, he no curly, no wite; he black,smooth dog, littel tail, small, so;" and the man heldup one brown finger with a gesture which suggested ashort, wagging tail.
 
　　"There, you see how mistaken we were. Dogs areoften named Sancho, especially Spanish poodles; forthe original Sancho was a Spaniard, you know. Thisdog is not ours, and I'm so sorry."The boys' faces had fallen dismally as their hope wasdestroyed; but Ben would not give up. For him therewas and could be only one Sancho in the world, andhis quick wits suggested an explanation which no oneelse thought of.
 
　　"It may be my dog, -- they color 'em as we used topaint over trick horses. I told you he was a valuablechap, and those that stole him hide him that way, elsehe'd be no use, don't you see? because we'd knowhim.""But the black dog had no tail," began Thorny,longing to be convinced, but still doubtful.
 
　　Ben shivered as if the mere thought hurt him, as hesaid, in a grim tone, --"They might have cut Sanch's off.""Oh, no! no! they mustn't, -- they wouldn't!
 
　　How Could any one be so wicked?" cried Bab andBetty, horrified at the suggestion.
 
　　"You don't know what such fellows would do tomake all safe, so they could use a dog to earn theirliving for 'em," said Ben, with mysterious significance,quite forgetting in his wrath that be had just proposedto get his own living in that way himself.
 
　　"He no your dog? Sorry I not find him for you.
 
　　Addio, signorina! Grazia, signor! Buon giorno, buongiorno!" and, kissing his hand, the Italian shoulderedorgan and monkey, ready to go.
 
　　Miss Celia detained him long enough to give himher address, and beg him to let her know if he metpoot Sanch in any of his wanderings; for such itinerantshowmen often cross each other's paths. Ben andThorny walked to the school-corner with him, gettingmore exact information about the black dog and hisowner, for they had no intention of giving it up sosoon.
 
　　That very evening, Thorny wrote to a boy cousinin New York, giving all the particulars of the case,and begging him to hunt up the man, investigate thedog, and see that the police made sure that every thingwas right. Much relieved by this performance, theboys waited anxiously for a reply, and when it camefound little comfort in it. Cousin Horace had donehis duty like a man, but regretted that he could onlyreport a failure. The owner of the black poodle wasa suspicious character, but told a straight story, howhe had bought the dog from a stranger, and exhibitedhim with success till he was stolen. Knew nothing ofhis history, and was very sorry to lose him, for hewas a remarkably clever beast.
 
　　"I told my dog-man to look about for him, but hesays he has probably been killed, with ever so manymore; so there is an end of it, and I call it a meanshame.""Good for Horace! I told you he'd do it upthoroughly and see the end of it," said Thorny, ashe read that paragraph in the deeply interesting letter.
 
　　"May be the end of that dog, but not of mine.
 
　　I'll bet he ran away; and if it was Sanch, he'll comehome. You see if he doesn't!" cried Ben, refusingto believe that all was over.
 
　　"A hundred wiles off? Oh, he couldn't find youwithout help, smart as he is," answered Thorny,incredulously.
 
　　Ben looked discouraged, but Miss Celia cheeredhim up again by saying, --"Yes, he could. My father had a friend who lefta little dog in Paris; and the creature found her inMilan, and died of fatigue next day. That was verywonderful, but true; and I've no doubt that if Sanchis alive he will come home. Let us hope so, and behappy, while we wait.""We will!" said the boys; and day after daylooked for the wanderer's return, kept a bone readyin the old place if he should arrive at night, andshook his mat to keep it soft for his weary boneswhen he came. But weeks passed, and still noSanch.
 
　　Something else happened, however, so absorbingthat he was almost forgotten for a time; and Benfound a way to repay a part of all he owed his bestfriend.
 
　　Miss Celia went off for a ride one afternoon, and anhour afterward, as Ben sat in the porch reading, Litadashed into the yard with the reins dangling abouther legs, the saddle turned round, and one side coveredwith black mud, showing that she had beendown. For a minute, Ben's heart stood still; thenhe flung away his book, ran to the horse, and saw atonce by her heaving flanks, dilated nostrils, and wetcoat, that she must have come a long way and at fullspeed.
 
　　"She has had a fall, but isn't hurt or frightened,"thought the boy, as the pretty creature rubbed her noseagainst his shoulder, pawed the ground, and champedher bit, as if she tried to tell him all about thedisaster, whatever it was.
 
　　"Lita, where's Miss Celia?" he asked, lookingstraight into the intelligent eyes, which were troubledbut not wild.
 
　　Lita threw up her head, and neighed loud andclear, as if she called her mistress; and, turning, wouldhave gone again if Ben had not caught the reins andheld her.
 
　　"All right, we'll find her;" and, pulling off thebroken saddle, kicking away his shoes, and ramminghis hat firmly on, Ben was up like a flash, tingling allover with a sense of power as he felt the bare backbetween his knees, and caught the roll of Lita's eyeas she looked round with an air of satisfaction.
 
　　"Hi, there! Mrs. Moss! Something has happenedto Miss Celia, and I'm going to find her. Thornyis asleep; tell him easy, and I'll come back as soonas I can!"Then, giving Lita her head, he was off before thestartled woman had time to do more than wring herhands and cry out, --"Go for the Squire! Oh, what shall we do?"As if she knew exactly what was wanted of her,Lita went back the way she had come, as Ben couldsee by the fresh, irregular tracks that cut up the roadwhere she had galloped for help. For a mile ormore they went, then she paused at a pair of bars,which were let down to allow the carts to pass into thewide hay-fields beyond. On she went again, canteringacross the new-mown turf toward a brook, acrosswhich she had evidently taken a leap before; for, onthe further side, at a place where cattle went to drink,the mud showed signs of a fall.
 
　　"You were a fool to try there; but where is MissCelia?" said Ben, who talked to animals as if theywere people, and was understood much better thanany one not used to their companionship would imagine.
 
　　Now Lita seemed at a loss, and put her head down,as if she expected to find her mistress where she hadleft her, somewhere on the ground. Ben called, butthere was no answer; and he rode slowly along thebrook-side, looking far and wide with anxiouseyes.
 
　　"May be she wasn't hurt, and has gone to thathouse to wait," thought the boy, pausing for a lastsurvey of the great, sunny field, which had no placeof shelter in it but one rock on the other side of thelittle stream. As his eye wandered over it, somethingdark seemed to blow out from behind it, as if thewind played in the folds of a shirt, or a human limbmoved. Away went Lita, and in a moment Ben hadfound Miss Celia, lying in the shadow of the rock,so white and motionless, he feared that she was dead.
 
　　He leaped down, touched her, spoke to her; and,receiving no answer, rushed away to bring a littlewater in his leaky hat to sprinkle in her face, as hehad seen them do when any of the riders got a fallin the circus, or fainted from exhaustion after theyleft the ring, where "do or die" was the motto alladopted.
 
　　In a minute, the blue eyes opened, and she recognizedthe anxious face bending over her, sayingfaintly, as she touched it, --"My good little Ben, I knew you'd find me, -- Isent Lita for you, -- I'm so hurt, I couldn't come.""Oh,where? What shall I do? Had I better runup to the house?" asked Ben, overjoyed to hearher speak, but much dismayed by her seeminghelplessness, for he had seen bad falls, and had them,too.
 
　　"I feel bruised all over, and my arm is broken, I'mafraid. Lita tried not to hurt me. She slipped, andwe went down. I came here into the shade, and thepain made me faint, I suppose. Call somebody, andget me home."Then she shut her eyes, and looked so whitethat Ben hurried away, and burst upon old Mrs.
 
　　Paine, placidly knitting at the end door, so suddenlythat, as she afterward said, "It sca't her like a clap o'
 
　　thunder.""Ain't a man nowheres around. All down in thebig medder gettin' in hay," was her reply to Ben'sbreathless demand for "everybody to come and seeto Miss Celia."He turned to mount, for he had flung himself offbefore Lita stopped, but the old lady caught his jacket,and asked half a dozen questions in a breath.
 
　　"Who's your folks? What's broke? How'd shefall? Where is she? Why didn't she come righthere? Is it a sunstroke?"As fast as words could tumble out of his mouth,Ben answered, and then tried to free himself; but theold lady held on, while she gave her directions,expressed her sympathy, and offered her hospitalitywith incoherent warmth.
 
　　"Sakes alive! poor dear! Fetch her right in.
 
　　Liddy, get out the camphire; and, Melissy, you hauldown a bed to lay her on. Falls is dretful uncert'inthings; shouldn't wonder if her back was broke.
 
　　Father's down yender, and he and Bijah will seeto her. You go call 'em, and I'll blow the horn tostart 'em up. Tell her we'd be pleased to see her,and it won't make a mite of trouble."Ben heard no more, fur as Mrs. Paine turned to takedown the tin horn he was up and away.
 
　　Several long and dismal toots sent Lita gallopingthrough the grassy path as the sound of the trumpetexcites a war-horse, and "father and Bijah," alarmedby the signal at that hour, leaned on their rakes tosurvey with wonder the distracted-looking little horsemanapproaching like a whirlwind.
 
　　"Guess likely grandpa's had 'nother stroke. Told'em to send over soon 's ever it come," said thefarmer, calmly.
 
　　"Shouldn't wonder ef suthing was afire some'r's,"conjectured the hired man, surveying the horizon fora cloud of smoke.
 
　　Instead of advancing to meet the messenger, bothstood like statues in blue overalls and red flannel shirts,till the boy arrived and told his tale.
 
　　"Sho, that's bad," said the farmer, anxiously.
 
　　"That brook always was the darndest place," addedBijah; then both men bestirred themselves helpfully,the former hurrying to Miss Cella while the latterbrought up the cart and made a bed of hay to layher on.
 
　　"Now then, boy, you go for the doctor. Myw omenfolks will see to the lady, and she'd better keep quietup yender till we see what the matter is," said thefarmer, when the pale girl was lifted in as carefully asfour strong arms could do it. "Hold on," he added,as Ben made one leap to Lita's back. You'll haveto go to Berryville. Dr. Mills is a master hand forbroken bones and old Dr. Babcock ain't. 'Tisn't butabout three miles from here to his house, and you'llfetch him 'fore there's any harm done waitin'.""Don't kill Lita," called Miss Celia from the cart, asit began to move.
 
　　But Ben did not hear her, for he was off across thefields, riding as if life and death depended upon hisspeed.
 
　　"That boy will break his neck," said Mr. Paine,standing still to watch horse and rider go over thewall as if bent on instant destruction.
 
　　"No fear for Ben, he can ride any thing, and Litawas trained to leap," answered Miss Celia, falling backon the hay with a groan, for she had involuntarilyraised her head to see her little squire dash away ingallant style.
 
　　"I should hope so; regular jockey, that boy.
 
　　Never see any thing like it out of a race-ground,"and Farmer Paine strode on, still following with hiseye the figures that went thundering over the bridge,up the hill, out of sight, leaving a cloud of cloudof dust behind.
 
　　Now that his mistress was safe, Ben enjoyed thatwild ride mightily, and so did the bay mare; for Litahad good blood in her, and proved it that day bydoing her three miles in a wonderfully short time.
 
　　People jogging along in wagons and country carry-allsstared amazed as the reckless pair went by. Women,placidly doing their afternoon sewing at the front windows,dropped their needles to run out with exclamationsof alarm, sure some one was being run away with;children playing by the roadside scattered likechickens before a hawk, as Ben passed with a warningwhoop, and baby-carriages were scrambled intodoor-yards with perilous rapidity at his approach.
 
　　But when he clattered into town, intense interestwas felt in this barefooted boy on the foaming steed,and a dozen voices asked, "Who's killed?" as hepulled up at the doctor's gate.
 
　　"Jest drove off that way; Mrs. Flynn's baby's in afit," cried a stout lady from the piazza, never ceasingto rock, though several passers-by paused to hear thenews, for she was a doctor's wife, and used to theanival of excited messengers from all quarters at allhours of the day and night.
 
　　Deigning no reply to any one, Ben rode away, wishinghe could leap a yawning gulf, scale a precipice, orford a raging torrent, to prove his devotion to MissCelia, and his skill in horsemanship. But no dangersbeset his path, and he found the doctor pausing towater his tired horse at the very trough where Baband Sancho had been discovered on that ever-memorableday. The story was quickly told, and, promisingto be there as soon as possible, Dr. Mills drove on torelieve baby Flynn's inner man, a little disturbed by abit of soap and several buttons, upon which he hadprivately lunched while his mamma was busy at thewash-tub.
 
　　Ben thanked his stars, as he had already done morethan once, that he knew how to take care of a horse;for he delayed by the watering-place long enough towash out Lita's mouth with a handful of wet grass,to let her have one swallow to clear her dusty throat,and then went slowly back over the breezy hills, pattingand praising the good creature for her intelligenceand speed. She knew well enough that she had beena clever little mare, and tossed her head, arched herglossy neck, and ambled daintily along, as consciousand coquettish as a pretty woman, looking round ather admiring rider to return his compliments by glanceof affection, and caressing sniffs of a velvet nose at hisbare feet.
 
　　Miss Celia had been laid comfortably in bed by thefarmer's wife and daughter; and, when the doctorarrived, bore the setting of her arm bravely. Noother serious damage appeared, and bruises soonheal, so Ben was sent home to comfort Thorny witha good report, and ask the Squire to drive up in hisbig carry-all for her the next day, if she was able tobe moved.
 
　　Mrs. Moss had been wise enough to say nothing,but quietly made what preparations she could, andwaited for tidings. Bab and Betty were away berrying,so no one had alarmed Thorny, and he had hisafternoon nap in peace, -- an unusually long one,owing to the stillness which prevailed in the absenceof the children; and when he awoke he lay readingfor a while before he began to wonder where everyone was. Lounging out to see, he found Ben andLita reposing side by side on the fresh straw in theloose box, which had been made for her in the coach-house. By the pails, sponges and curry-combs lyingabout, it was evident that she had been refreshed bya careful washing and rubbing down, and my ladywas now luxuriously resting after her labors, withher devoted groom half asleep close by.
 
　　"Well, of all queer boys you are the queerest, tospend this hot afternoon fussing over Lita, just forthe fun of it!" cried Thorny, looking in at them withmuch amusement.
 
　　"If you knew what we'd been doing, you'd think Iought to fuss over her, and both of us had a right torest! " answered Ben, rousing up as bright as a button;for he longed to tell his thrilling tale, and hadwith difficulty been restrained from bursting in onThorny as soon as he arrived.
 
　　He made short work of the story, but was quitesatisfied with the sensation it produced; for hislistener was startled, relieved, excited and charmed,in such rapid succession, that he was obliged to situpon the meal-chest and get his breath before heCould exclaim, with an emphatic demonstration ofhis heels against the bin,--"Ben Brown, I'll never forget what you've donefor Celia this day, or say 'bow-legs' again as long asI live"George! I felt as if I had six legs when wewere going the pace. We were all one piece, andhad a jolly spin, didn't we, my beauty?" and Benchuckled as he took Lita's head in his lap, whileshe answered with a gusty sigh that nearly blew himaway.
 
　　Like the fellow that brought the good news fromGhent to Aix," said Thorny, surveying the recumbentpair with great admiration.
 
　　"What follow?" asked Ben, wondering if he didn'tmean Sheridan, of whose ride he had heard.
 
　　"Don't you know that piece? I spoke it at school.
 
　　Give it to you now; see if it isn't a rouser."And, glad to find a vent from his excitement, Thornymounted the meal-chest, to thunder out that stirringballad with such spirit that Lita pricked up her earsand Ben gave a shrill "Hooray!" as the last verseended.
 
　　"And all I remember is friends flocking round,As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground,And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)Was no more than his due who brought good news fromGhent."
Chapter 16 Detective Thornton
     A few days later, Miss Celia was able to goabout with her arm in a sling, pale still, andrather stiff, but so much better than any oneexpected, that all agreed Mr. Paine was right inpronouncing Dr. Mills "a master hand with brokenbones." Two devoted little maids waited on her,two eager pages stood ready to run her errands, andfriendly neighbors sent in delicacies enough to keepthese four young persons busily employed in disposingof them.
 
　　Every afternoon the great bamboo lounging chairwas brought out and the interesting invalid conductedto it by stout Randa, who was head nurse, andfollowed by a train of shawl, cushion, foot-stool andbook bearers, who buzzed about like swarming beesround a new queen. When all were settled, the littlemaids sewed and the pages read aloud, with muchconversation by the way; for one of the rules was,that all should listen attentively, and if any one didnot understand what was read, he or she should askto have it explained on the spot. Whoever couldanswer was invited to do so, and at the end of thereading Miss Celia could ask any she liked, or addany explanations which seemed necessary. In thisway much pleasure and profit was extracted from thetales Ben and Thorny read, and much unexpectedknowledge as well as ignorance displayed, not tomention piles of neatly hemmed towels for which Baband Betty were paid like regular sewing-women.
 
　　So vacation was not all play, and the girls foundtheir picnics, berry parties, and "goin' a visitin'," allthe more agreeable for the quiet hour spent with MissCelia. Thorny had improved wonderfully, and wasgetting to be quite energetic, especially since hissister's accident; for while she was laid up he wasthe head of the house, and much enjoyed his promotion.
 
　　But Ben did not seem to flourish as he haddone at first. The loss of Sancho preyed upon himsadly, and the longing to go and find his dog grewinto such a strong temptation that he could hardlyresist it. He said little about it; but now, and then aword escaped him which might have enlightened anyone who chanced to be watching him. No one was,just then, so he brooded over this fancy, day by day,in silence and solitude, for there was no riding anddriving now. Thorny was busy with his sister tryingto show her that he remembered how good she hadbeen to him when he was ill, and the little girls hadtheir own affairs.
 
　　Miss Celia was the first to observe the change,having nothing to do but lie on the sofa and amuseherself by seeing others work or play. Ben wasbright enough at the readings, because theyn he forgothis troubles; but when they were over and his variousduties done, he went to his own room or soughtconsolation with Lita, being sober and quiet, andquite unlike the merr monkey all knew and liked sowell.
 
　　"Thorny, what is the matter with Ben?" asked MissCelia, one day, when she and her brother were alonein the "green parlor," as they called the lilac-treewalk.
 
　　"Fretting about Sanch, I suppose. I declare Iwish that dog had never been born! Losing him hasjust spoilt Ben. Not a bit of fun left in him, and hewon't have any thing I offer to cheer him up."Thorny spoke impatiently, and knit his brows overthe pressed flowers he was neatly gumming into hisherbal.
 
　　"I wonder if he has any thing on his mind? Heacts as if he was hiding a trouble he didn't dareto tell. Have you talked with him about it?" askedMiss Celia, looking as if she was hiding a trouble shedid not like to tell.
 
　　"Oh, yes, I poke him up now and then, but he getspeppery, so I let him alone. May be he is longingfor his old circus again. Shouldn't blame him muchif he was; it isn't very lively here, and he's used toexcitement, you know.""I hope it isn't that. Do you think he would slipaway without telling us, and go back to the old lifeagain?
 
　　"Don't believe he would. Ben isn't a bit of asneak; that's why I like him.""Have you ever found him sly or untrue in anyway?" asked Miss Celia, lowering her voice.
 
　　"No; he's as fair and square a fellow as I ever saw.
 
　　Little bit low, now and then, but he doesn't mean it,and wants to be a gentleman, only he never livedwith one before, and it's all new to him. I'll gethim polished up after a while.""Oh, Thorny, there are three peacocks on the place,and you are the finest! " laughed Miss Celia, as herbrother spoke in his most condescending way witha lift of the eyebrows very droll to see.
 
　　"And two donkeys, and Ben's the biggest, not toknow when he is well off and happy!" retorted the"gentleman," slapping a dried specimen on the pageas if he were pounding discontented Ben.
 
　　"Come here and let me tell you something whichworries me. I would not breathe it to another soul,but I feel rather helpless, and I dare say you canmanage the matter better than I."Looking much mystified, Thorny went and sat onthe stool at his sister's feet, while she whisperedconfidentially in his ear: " I've lost some money outof my drawer, and I'm so afraid Ben took it.""But it's always locked up and you keep the keysof the drawer and the little room?""It is gone, nevertheless, and I've had my keyssafe all the time.""But why think it is he any more than Randa, orKaty, or me?""Because I trust you three as I do myself. I'veknown the girls for years, and you have no object intaking it since all I have is yours, dear.""And all mine is yours, of course. But, Celia, howcould he do it? He can't pick locks, I know, for wefussed over my desk together, and had to break itafter all.""I never really thought it possible till to-day whenyou were playing ball and it went in at the upperwindow, and Ben climbed up the porch after it;you remember you said, 'If it had gone in at thegarret gable you couldn't have done that so well; '
 
　　and he answered, 'Yes, I could, there isn't a spoutI can't shin up, or a bit of this roof I haven't beenover.'""So he did ; but there is no spout near the littleroom window.""There is a tree, and such an agile boy as Bencould swing in and out easily. Now, Thorny, I hateto think this of him, but it has happened twice, andfor his own sake I must stop it. If he is planning torun away, money is a good thing to have. And hemay feel that it is his own; for you know he askedme to put his wages in the bank, and I did. He maynot like to come to me for that, because he can giveno good reason for wanting it. I'm so troubled Ireally don't know what to do."She looked troubled, and Thorny put his armsabout her as if to keep all worries but his own awayfrom her.
 
　　"Don't you fret, Cely, dear; you leave it to me.
 
　　I'll fix him - ungrateful little scamp!""That is not the way to begin. I am afraid youwill make him angry and hurt his feelings, and thenwe can do nothing.""Bother his feelings! I shall just say, calmly andcoolly: 'Now, look here, Ben, hand over the moneyyou took out of my sister's drawer, and we'll let youoff easy,' or something like that.""It wouldn't do, Thorny; his temper would be upin a minute, and away he would go before we couldfind out whether he was guilty or not. I wish I knewhow to manage."Let me think," and Thorny leaned his chin on thearm of the chair, staring hard at the knocker asif he expected the lion's mouth to open with wordsof counsel then and there.
 
　　"By Jove, I do believe Ben took it!" he brokeout suddenly; "for when I went to his room thismorning to see why he didn't come and do myboots, he shut the drawer in his bureau as quick asa flash, and looked red and queer, for I didn't knock,and sort of startled him.""He wouldn't be likely to put stolen money there.
 
　　Ben is too wise for that.""He wouldn't keep it there, but he might belooking at it and pitch it in when I called. He'shardly spoken to me since, and when I asked himwhat his flag was at half-mast for, he wouldn't answer.
 
　　Besides, you know in the reading this afternoon hedidn't listen, and when you asked what hewas thinking about, he colored up and mutteredsomething about Sanch. I tell you, Celia, it looksbad -- very bad," and Thorny shook his head with awise air.
 
　　"It does, and yet we may be all wrong. Let uswait a little and give the poor boy a chance to clearhimself before we speak. I'd rather lose my moneythan suspect him falsely.""How much was it?""Eleven dollars; a one went first, and I supposedI'd miscalculated somewhere when I took some out;but when I missed a ten, I felt that I ought not to letit pass.""Look here, sister, you just put the case intomy hands and let me work it up. I won't say anything to Ben till you give the word; but I'll watchhim, and now that my eyes are open, it won't be easyto deceive me."Thorny was evidently pleased with the new playof detective, and intended to distinguish himself inthat line; but when Miss Celia asked how he meantto begin, he could only respond with a blankexpression: "Don't know! You give me the keys andleave a bill or two in the drawer, and may be I canfind him out somehow."So the keys were given, and the little dressing-room where the old secretary stood was closelywatched for a day or two. Ben cheered up a triflewhich looked as if he knew an eye was upon him,but otherwise he went on as usual, and Miss Celiafeeling a little guilty at even harboring a suspicionof him, was kind and patient with his moods.
 
　　Thorny was very funny in the unnecessary mysteryand fuss he made; his affectation of careless indifferenceto Ben's movements and his clumsy attempts towatch every one of them; his dodgings up and downstairs, ostentatious clanking of keys, and the elaboratetraps he set to catch his thief, such as throwing hisball in at the dressing-room window and sending Benup the tree to get it, which he did, thereby provingbeyond a doubt that he alone could have takenthe money, Thorny thought. Another deep discoverywas, that the old drawer was so shrunken that thelock could be pressed down by slipping a knife-bladebetween the hasp and socket.
 
　　"Now it is as clear as day, and you'd better letme speak," he said, full of pride as well as regret atthis triumphant success of his first attempt as adetective.
 
　　"Not yet, and you need do nothing more. I'mafraid it was a mistake of mine to let you do this;and if it has spoiled your friendship with Ben, I shallbe very sorry; for I do not think he is guilty,"answered Miss Celia.
 
　　"Why not?" and Thorny looked annoyed.
 
　　"I've watched also, and he doesn't act like adeceitful boy. To-day I asked him if he wanted anymoney, or should I put what I owe him with the rest,and he looked me straight in the face with suchhonest, grateful eyes, I could not doubt him when hesaid 'Keep it, please, I don't need any thing here,you are all so good to me.'""Now, Celia, don't you be soft-hearted. He's asly little dog, and knows my eye is on him. WhenI asked him what he saw in the dressing-room, afterhe brought out the ball, and looked sharply at him,he laughed, and said 'Only a mouse,' as saucy asyou please.""Do set the trap there, I heard the mouse nibblinglast night, and it kept me awake. We must have acat or we shall be overrun.""Well, shall I give Ben a good blowing up, or willyou?" asked Thorny, scorning such poor prey asmice, and bound to prove that he was in the right.
 
　　"I'll let you know what I have decided in themorning. Be kind to Ben, meantime, or I shall feelas if I had done you harm by letting you watch him."So it was left for that day, and by the next, MissCelia had made up her mind to speak to Ben. Shewas just going down to breakfast when the sound ofloud voices made her pause and listen. It came fromBen's room, where the two boys seemed to be disputingabout something.
 
　　"I hope Thorny has kept his promise," shethought, and hurried through the back entry, fearinga general explosion.
 
　　Ben's chamber was at the end, and she could seeand hear what was going on before she was nearenough to interfere. Ben stood against his closetdoor looking as fierce and red as a turkey-cock;Thorny sternly confronted him, saying in an excitedtone, and with a threatening gesture: "You arehiding something in there, and you can't deny it.""I don't.""Better not; I insist on seeing it.""Well, you won't.""What have you been stealing now?""Didn't steal it, -- used to be mine, -- I only tookit when I wanted it.""I know what that means. You'd better give itback or I'll make you.""Stop! " cried a third voice, as Thorny put outhis arm to clutch Ben, who looked ready to defendhimself to the last gasp, "Boys, I will settle thisaffair. Is there anything hidden in the closet, Ben?
 
　　and Miss Celia came between the belligerent partieswith her one hand up to part them.
 
　　Thorny fell back at once, looking half ashamed ofhis heat, and Ben briefly answered, with a gulp as ifshame or anger made it hard to speak steadily:
 
　　"Yes 'm, there is.""Does it belong to you?""Yes 'm, it does.""Where did you get it?""Up to Squire's.""That's a lie!" muttered Thorny to himself.
 
　　Ben's eye flashed, and his fist doubled up in spiteof him, but he restrained himself out of respect forMiss Celia, who looked puzzled, as she asked anotherquestion, not quite wure how to proceed with theinvestigation: "Is it money, Ben?""No 'm, it isn't.""Then what can it be?""Meow!" answered a fourth voice from the closet;and as Ben flung open the door a gray kitten walkedout, purring with satisfaction at her release.
 
　　Miss Celia fell into a chair and laughed till her eyeswere full; Thorny looked foolish, and Ben folded hisarms, curled up his nose, and regarded his accuserwith calm defiance, while pussy sat down to wash herface as if her morning toilette had been interruptedby her sudden abduction.
 
　　"That's all very well, but it doesn't mend mattersmuch, so you needn't laugh, Celia," began Thorny,recovering hiniself, and stubbornly bent on sifting thecase to the bottom, now he had begun.
 
　　"Well, it would, if you'd let a feller alone. She saidshe wanted a cat, so I went and got the one they gaveme when I was at the Squire's. I went early and tookher without asking, and I had a right to," explainedBen, much aggrieved by having his surprise spoiled.
 
　　"It was very kind of you, and I'm glad to havethis nice kitty. We will shut her up in my room tocatch the mice that plague me," said Miss Celia,picking up the little cat, and woindering how she wouldget her two angry boys safely down stairs.
 
　　"The dressing-room, she means; you know theway, and you don't need keys to get in," addedThorny, with such sarcastic emphasis that Ben feltsome insult was intended, and promptly resented it.
 
　　" You won't get me to climb any more trees afteryour balls, and my cat won't catch any of your mice,so you needn't ask me.""Cats don't catch thieves, and they are what I'mafter!""What do you mean by that?" fiercely demandedBen.
 
　　"Celia has lost some money out of her drawer, andyou won't let me see what's in yours; So I thought,perhaps, you'd got it!" blurted out Thorny, findingit hard to say the words, angry as he was, for theface opposite did not look like a guilty one.
 
　　For a minute, Ben did not seem to understand him,plainly as he spoke; then he turned an angry scarlet,and, with a reproachful glance at his mistress, openedthe little drawer so that both could see all that itcontained.
 
　　"They ain't any thing; but I'm fond of 'emthey are all I've got -- I was afraid he'd laugh at methat time, so I wouldn't let him look -- it was father'sbirthday, and I felt bad about him and Sanch -- "Ben's indignant voice got more and more indistinctas he stumbled on, and broke down over the lastwords. He did not cry, however. but threw back hislittle treasures as if half their sacredness was gone;and, making a strong effort at self-control, facedaround, asking of Miss Celia, with a grieved look,"Did you think I'd steal anything of yours?""I tried not to, Ben, but what could I do? It wasgone, and you the only stranger about the place.""Wasn't there any one to think bad of but me?
 
　　he said, so sorrowfully that Miss Celia made up hermind on the spot that he was as innocent of the theftas the kitten now biting her buttons, no other refreshmentbeing offered.
 
　　"Nobody, for I know my girls well. Yet, elevendollars are gone, and I cannot imagine where or howfor both drawer and door are always locked, becausemy papers and valuables are in that room.""What a lot! But how could I get it if it waslocked up?" and Ben looked as if that question wasunanswerable.
 
　　"Folks that can climb in at windows for a ball, cango the same way for money, and get it easy enoughwhen they've only to pry open an old lock!"Thorny's look and tone seemed to make plain toBen all that they had been suspecting, and, beinginnocent, he was too perplexed and unhappy todefend himself. His eye went from one to the other,and, seeing doubt in both faces, his boyish heart sunkwithin him; for he could prove nothing, and his firstimpulse was to go away at once.
 
　　"I can't say any thing, only that I didn't take themoney. You won't believe it, so I'd better go backwhere I come from. They weren't so kind, but theytrusted me, and knew I wouldn't steal a cent. Youmay keep my money, and the kitty, too; I don'twant 'em," and, snatching up his hat, Ben wouldgone straight away, if Thorny had not barred hispassage.
 
　　"Come, now, don't be mad. Let's talk it over,and if I 'm wrong I'll take it all back and ask yourpardon," he said, in a friendly tone, rather scared atthe consequences of his first attempt, though as sureas ever that he was right.
 
　　"It would break my heart to have you go in thatway, Ben. Stay at least till your innocence is proved,then no one can doubt what you say now.""Don't see how it can be proved," answered Ben,appeased by her evident desire to trust him.
 
　　"We'll try as well as we know how, and the firstthing we will do is to give that old secretary a goodrummage from top to bottom. I've done it once,but it is just possible that the bills may have slippedout of sight. Come, now, I can't rest till I've doneall I can to comfort you and convince Thorny."Miss Celia rose as she spoke, and led the way to thedressing-room, which had no outlet except throughher chamber. Still holding his hat, Ben followed witha troubled face, and Thorny brought up the rear, doggedlydetermined to keep his eye on "the littlescamp" till the matter was satisfactorily cleared up.
 
　　Miss Celia had made her proposal more to soothe thefeelings of one boy and to employ the superfluousenergies of the other, than in the expectation ofthrowing any light upon the mystery; for she wassadly puzzled by Ben's manner, and much regrettedthat she had let her brother meddle in the matter.
 
　　"There," she said, unlocking the door with the keyThorny reluctantly gave up to her, "this is the roomand that is the drawer on the right. The lower oneshave seldom been opened since we came, and holdonly some of papa's old books. Those upper onesyou may turn out and investigate as much as you--Bless me! here 's something in your trap, Thornyand Miss Celia gave a little skip as she nearly trodon a long, gray tall, which hung out of the bole nowfilled by a plump mouse.
 
　　But her brother was intent on more serious things,and merely pushed the trap aside as he pulled out thedrawer with an excited gesture, which sent it and allits contents clattering to the floor.
 
　　"Confound the old thing! It always stuck so Ihad to give a jerk. Now, there it is, topsy-turvy,"and Thorny looked Much disgusted at his ownawkwardness.
 
　　"No harm done; I left nothing of value in it.
 
　　Look back there, Ben, and see if there is room for apaper to get worked over the top of the drawer. Ifelt quite a crack, but I don't believe it is possible f6rthings to slip out; the place was never full enough tooverflow in any way."Miss Celia spoke to Ben, who was kneeling downto pick up the scattered papers, among which weretwo marked dollar bills, -- Thorny's bait for the thief.
 
　　Ben looked into the dusty recess, and then put in hishand, saying carelessly, -"There's nothing but a bit of red stuff.""My old pen-wiper -- Why, what's the matter?"asked Miss Celia, as Ben dropped the handful Of whatlooked like rubbish.
 
　　Something warm and wiggly inside of it," answered Ben,stooping to examine the contents ofthe little scarlet bundle. "Baby mice ! Ain't theyfunny? Look just like mites of young pigs. We'llhave to kill 'em if you've caught their mamma," hesaid, forgetting his own trials in boyish curiosity abouthis "find,"Miss Celia stooped also, and gently poked the redcradle with her finger; for the tiny mice werenestling deeper into the fluff with small squeals of alarm.
 
　　Suddenly she cried out: "Boys, boys, I've found thethief! Look here; pull out these bits and see ifthey won't make up my lost bills."Down went the motherless babies as four ruthlesshands pulled apart their cosey nest, and there,among the nibbled fragments, appeared enoughfinely printed, greenish paper, to piece out parts oftwo bank bills. A large cypher and part of a figureone were visible, and that accounted for the ten; butthough there were other bits, no figures could befound, and they were willing to take the other billon trust.
 
　　"Now, then, am I a thief and a liar? " demandedBen, pointing proudly to the tell-tale letters spreadforth on the table, over which all three had beeneagerly bending.
 
　　"No; I beg your pardon, and I'm very sorry thatwe didn't look more caiefully before we spoke, thenwe all should have been spared this pain.""All right, old fellow, forgive and forget. I'll neverthink hard of you again, -- on my honor I won't."As they spoke, Miss Celia and her brother held outtheir hands frankly and heartily. Ben shook both,but with a difference; for he pressed the soft onegratefully, remembering that its owner had alwaysbeen good to him; but the brown paw he grippedwith a vengeful squeeze that made Thorny pull itaway in a hurry, exclaiming, good-naturedly, in spiteof both physical and mental discomfort, --"Come, Ben, don't you bear malice; for you'vegot the laugh on your side, and we feel pretty small.
 
　　I do, any way; for, after my fidgets, all I've caughtis a mouse!""And her family. I'm so relieved I'm almostsorry the poor little mother is dead -- she and herbabies were so happy in the old pen-wiper," said MissCelia, hastening to speak merrily, for Ben still lookedindignant, and she was much grieved at what hadhappened.
 
　　"A pretty expensive house," began Thorny, lookingabout for the interesting orphans, who had beenleft on the floor while their paper-hangings wereexamined.
 
　　No further anxiety need be felt for them, however;Kitty had come upon the scene, and as judge, jury,and prisoner, turned to find the little witnesses, theybeheld the last pink mite going down Pussy's throatin one mouthful.
 
　　"I call that summary justice, -- the whole familyexecuted on the spot! Give Kit the mouse also, andlet us go to breakfast. I feel as if I had found myappetite, now this worry is off my mind," said MissCelia, laughing so infectiously that Ben had to joinin spite of himself, as she took his arm and led himaway with a look which mutely asked his pardon over again.
 
　　"Rather lively for a funeral procession," saidThorny, following with the trap in his hand and Pussat his heels, adding, to comfort his pride as a detective:
 
　　"Well, I said I'd catch the thief, and I have,though it is rather a small one!"
Chapter 17 Betty's Bravery
     Celia, I've a notion that we ought to giveBen something. A sort of peace-offering,you know; for he feels dreadfully hurt aboutour suspecting him," said Thorny, at dinner that day.
 
　　"I see he does, though he tries to seem as brightand pleasant as ever. I do not wonder, and I've beenthinking what I could do to soothe his feelings. Canyou suggest any thing? ""Cuff-buttons. I saw some jolly ones over at Berryville,oxidized silver, with dogs' heads on them,yellow eyes, and all as natural as could be. Those,now, would just suit him for his go-to-meeting whiteshirts, -- neat, appropriate, and in memoriam."Miss Celia could not help laughing, it was such aboyish suggestion; but she agreed to it, thinkingThorny knew best, and hoping the yellow-eyed dogswould be as balm to Ben's wounds.
 
　　"Well, dear, you may give those, and Lita shallgive the little whip with a horse's foot for a handle, ifit is not gone. I saw it at the harness shop in town;and Ben admired it so much that I planned to give itto him on his birthday.""That will tickle him immensely; and if you'djust let him put brown tops to my old boots, and sticka cockade in his hat when he sits up behind the phae-ton, he'd be a happy fellow," laughed Thorny, whohad discovered that one of Ben's ambitions was to bea tip-top groom.""No, thank you; those things are out of place inAmerica, and would be absurd in a small countryplace like this. His blue suit and straw hat pleaseme better for a boy; though a nicer little groom, inlivery or out, no one could desire, and you may tellhim I said so.""I will, and he'll look as proud as punch; for hethinks every word you say worth a dozen from any oneelse. But won't you give him something? Just somelittle trifle, to show that we are both eating humblepie, feeling sorry about the mouse money.""I shall give him a set of school-books, and try toget him ready to begin when vacation is over. Aneducation is the best present we can make him; andI want you to help me fit him to enter as well is hecan. Bab and Betty began, little dears, -- lent himtheir books and taught all they knew; so Ben got ataste, and, with the right encouragement, would liketo go on, I am sure.""That's so like you Celia! Always thinking ofthe best thing and doing it handsomely. I'll helplike a house a-fire, if he will let me; but, all day, he'sbeen as stiff as a poker, so I don't believe he forgivesme a bit.""He will in time, and if you are kind and patient,he will be glad to have you help him. I shall makeit a sort of favor to me on his part, to let you see tohis lessons, now and then. It will be quite true, forI don't want you to touch your Latin or algebra tillcool weather; teaching him will be play to you."Miss Celia's last words made her brother unbendhis brows, for he longed to get at his books again,and the idea of being tutor to his "man-servant" didnot altogether suit him.
 
　　"I'll tool him along at a great pace, if he will onlygo. Geography and arithmetic shall be my share,and you may have the writing and spelling; it givesme the fidgets to set copies', and hear children makea mess of words. Shall I get the books when I buythe other things? Can I go this afternoon?""Yes, here is the list; Bab gave it to me. You cango if you will come home early and have your toothfilled."Gloom fell at once upon Thorny's beaming face, andhe gave such a shrill whistle that his sister jumped inher chair, as she added, persuasively, --"It won't hurt a bit, now, and the longer youleave it the worse it will be. Dr. Mann is ready atany time; and, once over, you will be at peace formonths. Come, my hero, give your orders, and takeone of the girls to support you in the trying hour.
 
　　Have Bab; she will enjoy it, and amuse you withher chatter.""As if I needed girls round for such a trifle asthat!" returned Thorny with a shrug, though hegroaned inwardly at the prospect before him, as mostof us do on such occasions. "I wouldn't take Babat any price; she'd only get into some scrape, andupset the whole plan. Betty is the chicken for me, --a real little lady, and as nice and purry as a kitten.""Very well; ask her mother, and take good careof her. Let her tuck her dolly in, and she will becontented anywhere. There's a fine air, and theawning is on the phaeton, so you won't feel the sun.
 
　　Start about three, and drive carefully."Betty was charmed to go, for Thorny was a sort ofprince in her eyes; and to be invited to such a grandexpedition was an overwhelming honor. Bab was notsurprised, for, since Sancho's loss, she had felt herselfin disgrace, and been unusually meek; Ben let her"severely alone," which much afflicted her, for he washer great admiration, and had been pleased to expresshis approbation of her agility and courage so often,that she was ready to attempt any fool-hardy feat torecover his regard. But vainly did she risk her neckjumping off the highest beams in the barn, trying tokeep her balance standing on the donkey's back, andleaping the lodge gate at a bound; Ben vouchsafedno reward by a look, a smile, a word of commendation;and Bab felt that nothing but Sancho's returnwould ever restore the broken friendship.
 
　　Into faithful Betty's bosom did she pour forth herremorseful lamentations, often bursting out with thepassionate exclamation, "If I could only find Sanch,and give him back to Ben, I wouldn't care if Itumbled down and broke all my legs right away!"Such abandonment of woe made a deep impressionon Betty; and she fell into the way of consoling hersister by cheerful prophecies, and a firm belief thatthe organ-man would yet appear with the lost darling.
 
　　"I've got five cents of my berry money, and I'llbuy you an orange if I see any," promised Bettystepping to kiss Bab, as the phaeton came to thedoor, and Thorny handed in a young lady whosewhite frock was so stiff with starch that it crackledlike paper.
 
　　"Lemons will do if oranges are gone. I like 'emto suck with lots of sugar," answered Bab, feelingthat the sour sadly predominated in her cup justnow.
 
　　"Don't she look sweet, the dear!" murmured Mrs.
 
　　Moss, proudly surveying her youngest.
 
　　She certainly did, sitting under the fringed canopywith "Belinda," all in her best, upon her lap, as sheturned to smile and nod, with a face so bright andwinsome under the little blue hat, that it was no wondermother and sister thought there never was such aperfect child as "our Betty."Dr. Mann was busy when they arrived, but wouldbe ready in an hour; so they did their shopping atonce, having made sure of the whip as they camealong. Thorny added some candy to Bab's lemon,and Belinda had a cake, which her mamma obliginglyate for her. Betty thought that Aladdin's palacecould not have been more splendid than the jeweller'sshop where the canine cuff-buttons were bought;but when they came to the book-store, she forgotgold, silver, and precious stones, to revel in picture-books, while Thorny selected Ben's modest schooloutfit. Seeing her delight, and feeling particularlylavish with plenty of money in his pocket, the younggentleman completed the child's bliss by telling herto choose whichever one she liked best out of thepile of Walter Crane's toy-books lying in bewilderingcolors before her.
 
　　"This one; Bab always wanted to see the dreadfulcupboard, and there's a picture of it here," answeredBetty, clasping a gorgeous copy of "Bluebeard" tothe little bosom, which still heaved with the raptureof looking at that delicious mixture of lovely Fatimasin pale azure gowns, pink Sister Annes on the turrettop, crimson tyrants, and yellow brothers with forestsof plumage blowing wildly from their mushroom-shaped caps.
 
　　Very good; there you are, then. Now, comeon, for the fun is over and the grind begins," saidThorny, marching away to his doom, with his tonguein his tooth, and trepidation in his manly breast.
 
　　"Shall I shut my eyes and hold your head?"quavered devoted Betty, as they went up the stairsso many reluctant feet had mounted before them.
 
　　"Nonsense, child, never mind me! You look outof window and amuse yourself; we shall not be long,I guess;" and in went Thorn silently hoping thatthe dentist had been suddenly called away, or someperson with an excruciating toothache would be waitingto take ether, and so give our young man anexcuse for postponing his job.
 
　　But no; Dr. Mann was quite at leisure, and, full ofsmiling interest, awaited his victim, laying forth hisunpleasant little tools with the exasperating alacrityof his kind. Glad to be released from any share inthe operation, Betty retired to the back window tobe as far away as possible, and for half in hour wasso absorbed in her book that poor Thorny mighthave groaned dismally without disturbing her.
 
　　"Done now, directly, only a trifle of polishing offand a look round," said Dr. Mann, at lat; andThorny, with a yawn that nearly rent him asunder,called out, --"Thank goodness! Pack up, Bettykin.""I'm all ready!" and, shutting her book with astart, she slipped down from the easy chair in a greathurry.
 
　　But "looking round" took time; and, before thecircuit of Thorny's mouth was satisfactorily made,Betty had become absorbed by a more interestingtale than even the immortal "Bluebeard." A noiseof children's voices in the narrow alley-way behindthe house attracted her attention; the long windowopened directly on the yard, and the gate swung inthe wind. Curious as Fatima, Betty went to look;but all she saw was a group of excited boys peepingbetween the bars of another gate further down.
 
　　"What's the matter?" she asked of two smallgirls, who stood close by her, longing but not daringto approach the scene of action.
 
　　"Boys chasing a great black cat, I believe,"answered one child.
 
　　"Want to come and see?" added the other,politely extending the invitation to the stranger.
 
　　The thought of a cat in trouble would have nervedBetty to face a dozen boys; so she followed at once,meeting several lads hurrying away on some importanterrand, to judge from their anxious countenances.
 
　　"Hold tight, Jimmy, and let 'em peek, if they wantto. He can't hurt anybody now," said one of thedusty huntsmen, who sat on the wide coping of thewall, while two others held the gate, as if a cat couldonly escape that way.
 
　　"You peek first, Susy, and see if it looks nice,"said one little girl, boosting her friend so that shecould look through the bars in the upper part of thegate.
 
　　"No; it 's only an ugly old dog!" respondedSusy, losing all interest at once, and descending witha bounce.
 
　　"He's mad! and Jud's gone to get his gun, so wecan shoot him!" called out one mischievous boy,resenting the contempt expressed for their capture.
 
　　"Ain't, neither!" howled another lad from hisperch. "Mad dogs won't drink; and this one islapping out of a tub of water.""Well, he may be, and we don't know him, and hehasn't got any muzzle on, and the police will kill him ifJud don't," answered the sanguinary youth who hadfirst started the chase after the poor animal, whichhad come limping into town, so evidently a lostdog that no one felt any hesitation in stoning him.
 
　　"We must go right home; my mother is dreadful'fraid of mad dogs, and so is yours," said Susy;and, having satisfted their curiosity, the young ladiesprudently retired.
 
　　But Betty had not had her "peep," and could notresist one look; for she had heard of these unhappyanimals, and thought Bab would like to know howthey looked. So she stood on tip-toe and got a goodview of a dusty, brownish dog, lying on the grassclose by, with his tongue hanging out while hepanted, as if exhausted by fatigue and fear, for hestill cast apprehensive glances at the wall whichdivided him from his tormentors.
 
　　His eyes are just like Sanch's," said Betty toherself, unconscious that she spoke aloud, till she sawthe creature prick up his cars and half rise, as if hehad been called.
 
　　"He looks as if he knew me, but it isn't ourSancho; he was a lovely dog." Betty said that tothe little boy peeping in beside her; but before hecould make any reply, the brown beast stood straightup with an inquiring bark, while his eyes shone liketopaz, and the short tail wagged excitedly.
 
　　"Why, that's just the way Sanch used to do!"cried Betty, bewildered by the familiar ways of thisunfamiliar-looking dog.
 
　　As if the repetition of his name settled his owndoubts, he leaped toward the gate and thrust a pinknose between the bars, with a howl of recognition asBetty's face was more clearly seen. The boys tumbledprecipitately from their perches, and the littlegirl fell back alarmed, yet could not bear to runaway and leave those imploring eyes pleading to herthrough the bars so eloquently.
 
　　"He acts just like our dog, but I don't see how itcan be him. Sancho, Sancho, is it really you?" calledBetty, at her wits' end what to do.
 
　　"Bow, wow, wow!" answered the well-known bark,and the little tail did all it could to emphasize thesound, while the eyes were so full of dumb love andjoy, the child could not refuse to believe that this uglystray was their own Sancho strangely transformed.
 
　　All of a sudden, the thought rushed into her mind,how glad Ben would be! -- and Bab would feel allhappy again. I must carry him home."Never stopping to think of danger, and forgettingall her doubts, Betty caught the gate handle out ofJimmy's grasp, exclaiming eagerly: "He is our dog!
 
　　Let me go in; I ain't afraid.""Not till Jud comes back; he told us we mustn't,"answered the astonished Jimmy, thinking the littlegirl as mad as the dog.
 
　　With a confused idea that the unknown Jud hadgone for a gun to shoot Sanch, Betty gave a desperatepull at the latch and ran into the yard, bent on savingher friend. That it was a friend there could heno further question; for, though the cleature rushedat her as if about to devour her at a mouthful, it wasonly to roll ecstatically at her feet, lick her hands, andgaze into her face, trying to pant out the welcomewhich he could not utter. An older and more prudentperson would have waited to make sure beforeventuring in; but confiding Betty knew little of thedanger which she might have run; her heart spokemore quickly than her head, and, not stopping to havethe truth proved, she took the brown dog on trust,and found it was indeed dear Sanch.
 
　　Sitting on the grass, she hugged him close, carelessof tumbled hat, dusty paws on her clean frock, or arow of strange boys staring from the wall.
 
　　"Darling doggy, where have you been so long?
 
　　she cried, the great thing sprawling across her lap, asif he could not get near enough to his brave littleprotector. "Did they make you black and beat you,dear? Oh, Sanch, where is your tail -- your prettytail?"A plaintive growl and a pathetic wag was all theanswer he could make to these tender inquiries; fornever would the story of his wrongs be known, andnever could the glory of his do-gsh beauty be restored.
 
　　Betty was trying to comfort him with patsand praises, when a new face appeaerd; at the gate,and Thorny's authoritative voice called out, --"Betty Moss, what on earth are you doing in therewith that dirty beast?""It's Sanch, it's Sanch! Oh, come and see!
 
　　shrieked Betty, flying up to lead forth her prize.
 
　　But the gate was held fast, for some one said thewords, "Mad dog," and Thorny was very naturallyalarmed, because he had already seen one. "Don'tstay there another minute. Get up on that benchand I'll pull you over," directed Thorny, mountingthe wall to rescue his charge in hot haste; for thedog did certainly behave queerly, limping hurriedlyto and fro, as if anxious to escape. No wonder,when Sancho heard a voice he knew, and recognizedanother face, yet did not meet as kind a welcome asbefore.
 
　　"No, I'm not coming out till he does. It is Sanch,and I'm going to take him home to Ben," answeredBetty, decidedly, as she wet her handkerchief in therain water to bind up the swollen paw that hadtravelled many miles to rest in her little hand again.
 
　　"You're crazy, child. That is no more Ben's dogthan I am.""See if it isn't!" cried Betty, perfectly unshakenin her faith; and, recalling the words of command aswell as she could, she tried to put Sancho through hislittle performance, as the surest proof that she wasright. The poor fellow did his best, weary and foot-sorethough he was; but when it came to taking histail in his mouth to waltz, he gave it up, and, droppingdown, hid his face in his paws, as he always did whenany of his tricks failed. The act was almost patheticnow, for one of the paws was bandaged, and hiswhole attitude expressed the humiliation of a brokenspirit.
 
　　That touched Thorny, and, quite convinced bothof the dog's sanity and identity, he sprung downfrom the wall with Ben's own whistle, which gladdenedSancho's longing ear as much as the boy's roughcaresses comforted his homesick heart.
 
　　"Now, let's carry him right home, and surpriseBen. Won't he be pleased?" said Betty, so inearnest that she tried to lift the big brute inspite of his protesting yelps.
 
　　"You are a little trump to find him out in spite ofall the horrid things that have been done to him. Wemust have a rope to lead him, for he's got no collarand no muzzle. He has got friends though, and I'dlike to see any one touch him now. Out of the way,there, boy!" Looking as commanding as a drum-major,Thorny cleared a passage, and with one armabout his neck, Betty proudly led her treasuremagnanimously ignoring his late foes, and keepinghis eye fixed on the faithful friend whose tender littleheart had known him in spite of all disguises.
 
　　"I found him, sir," and the lad who had been mosteager for the shooting, stepped fowward to claim anyreward that might be offered for the now valuablevictim.
 
　　"I kept him safe till she came," added the jailerJimmy, speaking for himself.
 
　　"I said he wasn't mad", cried a third, feeling thathis discrimination deserved approval.
 
　　"Jud ain't my brother," said the fourth, eager toclear his skirts from all ofi-ence.
 
　　"But all of you chased and stoned him, I suppose?
 
　　You'd better look out or you'll get reported to theSociety for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals."With this awful and mysterious threat, Thornyslammed the doctor's gate in the faces of the mercenaryyouths, nipping their hopes in the bud, and teachingthem a good lesson.
 
　　After one astonished stare, Lita accepted Sanchowithout demur, and they greeted one another cordially,nose to nose, instead of shaking hands. Thenthe dog nestled into his old place under the linenduster with a grunt of intense content, and soon fellfast asleep, quite worn out with fatigue.
 
　　No Roman conqueror bearing untold treasureswith him, ever approached the Eternal City feelingricher or prouder than did Miss Betty as she rolledrapidly toward the little brown house with the captivewon by her own arms. Poor Belinda was forgotten in acorner, "Bluebeard" was thrust under thecushion, and the lovely lemon was squeezed beforeits time by being sat upon; for all the child couldthink of was Ben's delight, Bab's remorseful burdenlifted off, "Ma's" surprise, and Miss Celia's pleasure.
 
　　She could hardly realize the happy fact, and keptpeeping under the cover to be sure that the deardingy bunch at her feet was truly there.
 
　　"I'll tell you how we'll do it," said Thorny, breakinga long silence as Betty composed herself with anirrepressible wriggle of delight after one of theserefreshing peeps. "We'll keep Sanch hidden, andsmuggle him into Ben's old room at your house.
 
　　Then I'll drive on to the barn, and not say a word,but send Ben to get something out of that room.
 
　　You just let him in, to see what he'll do. I'll betyou a dollar he won't know his own dog.""I don't believe I can keep from screaming rightout when I see him, but I'll try. Oh, won't it befun!" -- and Betty clapped her hands in joyfulanticipation of that exciting moment.
 
　　A nice little plan, but Master Thorny forgot thekeen senses of the amiable animal snoring peacefullyamong his boots; and, when they stopped at theLodge, he had barely time to say in a whisper,"Ben's coming; cover Sanch and let me get him inquick!" before the dog was out of the phaeton likea bombshell, and the approaching boy went down asif shot, for Sancho gave one leap, and the two rolledover and over, with a shout and a bark of rapturousrecognition.
 
　　"Who is hurt?" asked Mrs. Moss, running outwith floury hands uplifted in alarm.
 
　　"Is it a bear?" cried Bab, rushing after her,beater in hand, for a dancing bear was the delight ofher heart.
 
　　"Sancho's found! Sancho's found!" shoutedThorny, throwing up his hat like a lunatic.
 
　　"Found, found, found!" echoed Betty, dancingwildly about as if she too had lost her little wits.
 
　　"Where? how? when? who did it?" asked Mrs.
 
　　Moss, clapping her dusty hands delightedly.
 
　　"It isn't; it's an old dirty brown thing," stammeredBab, as the dog came uppermost for a minute, andthen rooted into Ben's jacket as if hesmelt a woodchuck, and was bound to have him outdirectly.
 
　　Then Thorny, with many interruptions from Betty,poured forth the wondrous tale, to which Bab and hismother listened breathlessly, while the muffins burnedas black as a coal, and nobody cared a bit.
 
　　"My precious lamb, how did you dare to do sucha thing?" exclaimed Mrs. Moss, hugging the smallheroine with mingled admiration and alarm.
 
　　"I'd have dared, and slapped those horrid boys,too. I wish I'd gone!" and Bab felt that she hadfor ever lost the chance of distinguishing herself.
 
　　"Who cut his tail off?" demanded Ben, in a menacingtone, as he came uppermost in his turn, dusty,red and breathless, but radiant.
 
　　"The wretch who stole him, I suppose; and he de-serves to be hung," answered Thorny, hotly.
 
　　"If ever I catch him, I'll -- I'll cut his nose off,"roared Ben, with such a vengeful glare that Sanchbarked fiercely; and it was well that the unknown"wretch" was not there, for it would have gonehardly with him, since even gentle Betty frowned,while Bab brandished the egg-beater menacingly,and their mother indignantly declared that "it wastoo bad!"Relieved by this general outburst, they composedtheir outraged feelings; and while the returnedwanderer went from one to another to receive a tenderwelcome from each, the story of his recovery wasmore calmly told. Ben listened with his eye devouringthe injured dog; and when Thorny paused, heturned to the little heroine, saying solemnly, ashe laid her hand with his own on Sancho's head,"Betty Moss, I'll never forget what you did; fromthis minute half of Sanch is your truly own, and if Idie you shall have the whole of him," and Ben sealedthe precious gift with a sounding kiss on either chubbycheck.
 
　　Betty was so deeply touched by this noble bequest,that the blue eyes filled and vwuld have overflowedif Sanch had not politely offered his tongue like ared pocket-handkerchlef, and so made her laugh thedrops away, while Bab set the rest off by sayinggloomily, --"I mean to play with all the mad dogs I can find;then folks will think I'm smart and give me nicethings.""Poor old Bab, I'll foigive you now, and lend youmy half whenever you want it," said Ben, feeling atpeace now with all mankind, including, giris who tagged.
 
　　"Come and show him to Celia," begged Thorny,eager to fight his battles over again.
 
　　"Better wash him up first; he's a sight to see,poor thing," suggested Mrs. Moss, as she ran in,suddenly remembering her muffins.
 
　　"It will take a lot of washings to get that brownstuff off. See, his pretty, pink skin is all stained withit. We'll bleach him out, and his curls will grow, andhe'll be as good as ever -- all but -- "Ben could not finish, and a general wail went up forthe departed tassel that would never wave proudly inthe breeze again.
 
　　"I'll buy him a new one. Now form the proccessionand let us go in style," said Thorny, cheerily, ashe swung Betty to his shoulder and marched awaywhistling "Hail! the conquering hero comes," whileBen and his Bow-wow followed arm-in-arm, and Babbrought up the rear, banging on a milk-pan with theegg-beater.
Chapter 18 Bows And Arrows
     If Sancho's abduction made a stir, one may easilyimagine with what warmth and interest he waswelcomed back when his wrongs and wanderingswere known. For several days he held regular levees,that curious boys and sympathizing girls might seeand pity the changed and curtailed dog. Sancho behavedwith dignified affability, and sat upon his matin the coach-house pensively eying his guests, andpatiently submitting to their caresses; while Ben andThorny took turns to tell the few tragical facts whichwere not shrouded in the deepest mystery. If theinteresting sufferer could only have spoken, whatthrilling adventures and hair-breadth escapes he mighthave related. But, alas! he was dumb; and the secretsof that memorable month never were revealed.
 
　　The lame paw soon healed, the dingy color slowlyyielded to many washings, the woolly coat began toknot up into little curls, a new collar, handsomelymarked, made him a respectable dog, and Sanchowas himself again. But it was evident that his sufferingswere not forgotten; his once sweet temper was atrifle soured; and, with a few exceptions, he had losthis faith in mankind. Before, he had been the mostbenevolent and hospitable of dogs; now, he eyed allstrangers suspiciously, and the sight of a shabby manmade him growl and bristle up, as if the mernory ofhis wrongs still burned hotly within him.
 
　　Fortunately, his gratitude was stronger than hisresentment, and he never seemed to forget that heowed his life to Betty, -- running to meet her whenevershe appeared, instantly obeying her commands,and suffering no one to molest her when he walkedwatchfully beside her, with her hand upon his neck,as they had walked out of the almost fatal backyardtogether, faithful friends for ever.
 
　　Miss Celia called them little Una and her lion, andread the pretty story to the childien when theywondered what she meant. Ben, with great pains,taught the dog to spell "Betty," and surprised herwith a display of this new accomplishment, whichgratified her so much that she was never tired ofseeing Sanch paw the five red letters into place, thencome and lay his nose in her hand, as if he added,"That's the name of my dear mistress."Of course Bab was glad to have eveiything pleasantand friendly again; but in a little dark corner of herheart there was a drop of envy, and a despeiate desireto do something which would make every one inher small world like and piaise her as they did Betty.
 
　　Trying to be as good and gentle did not satisfy her;she must do something brave or surprising, and nochance for distinguishing herself in that way seemedlikely to appear. Betty was as fond as ever, andthe boys were very kind to her; but she felt thatthey both liked "little Beteinda," as they called her,best, because she found Sanch, and never seemed to knowthat she had done any thing brave in defendinghim against all odds. Bab did not tell any one howshe felt, but endeavored to be amiable, while waitingfor her chance to come; and, when it did arrive,made the most of it, though there was nothing heroicto add a charm.
 
　　Miss Celia's arm had been doing very well, butwould, of course, be useless for some time longer.
 
　　Finding that the afternoon readings amused herselfas much as they did the children, she kept themup, and brought out all her old favorites enjoying adouble pleasure in seeing that her young audiencerelished them as much as she did when a child forto all but Thorny they were brand new. Out of oneof these stories came much amusement for all, andsatisfaction for one of the party.
 
　　"Celia, did you bring our old bows?" asked herbrother, eagerly, as she put down the book fromwhich she had been reading Miss Edgeworth's capitalstory of "Waste not Want not; or, Two Stringsto your Bow.""Yes, I brought all the playthings we left storedaway in uncle's garret when we went abroad. Thebows are in the long box where you found the mallets,fishing-rods, and bats. The old quivers and afew arrows are there also, I believe. What is theidea now? asked Miss Celia in her turn, as Thornybounced up in a great hurry.
 
　　"I'm going to teach Ben to shoot. Grand funthis hot weather; and by-and-by we'll have anarchery meeting, and you can give us a prize. Comeon, Ben. I've got plenty of whip-cord to rig up thebows, and then we'll show the ladies some first-classshooting.""I can't; never had a decent bow in my life. Thelittle gilt one I used to wave round when I was aCoopid wasn't worth a cent to go," answered Ben,feeling as if that painted "prodigy" must have beena very distant connection of the respectable youngperson now walking off arm in arm with the lord ofthe manor.
 
　　"Practice is all you want. I used to be a capitalshot, but I don't believe I could hit any thing but abarn-door now," answered Thorny, encouragingly.
 
　　As the boys vanished, with much tramping of bootsand banging of doors, Bab observed, in the young-ladyish tone she was apt to use when she composedher active little mind and body to the feminine taskof needlework, --"We used to make bows of whalebone when wewere little girls, but we are too old to play so now.""I'd like to, but Bab won't, 'cause she 's most'leven years old," said honest Betty, placidly rubbingher needle in the "ruster," as she called the familyemery-bag.
 
　　"Grown people enjoy archery, as bow and arrowshooting is called, especially in England. I wasreading about it the other day, and saw a picture ofQueen Victoria with her bow; so you needn't beashamed of it, Bab," said Miss Celia, rummagingamong the books and papers in her sofa corner tofind the magazine she wanted, thinking a new playwould be as good for the girls as for the big boys.
 
　　"A queen, just think!" and Betty looked much impressedby the fact, as well as uplifted by the knowledgethat her friend did not agree in thinking hersilly because she preferred playing with a halmlesshome-made toy to firing stones or snapping a pop-gun.
 
　　"In old times, bows and arrows were used to fightgreat battles with; and we read how the English archersshot so well that the air was dark with arrows, andmany men were killed.""So did the Indians have 'em; and I've got somestone arrow-heads, -- found 'em by the river, in thedirt!" cried Bab, waking up, for battles interested hermore than queens.
 
　　"While you finish your stints I'll tell you a littlestory about the Indians," said Miss Celia, lyingback on her cushions, while the needles began togo again, for the piospect of a story could not beresisted.
 
　　"A century or more ago, in a small settlement onthe banks of the Connecticut, -- which means the LongRiver of Pines, -- there lived a little girl called MattyKilburn. On a hill stood the fort where the people ranfor protection in any danger, for the country was newand wild, and more than once the Indians had comedown the river in their canoes and burned the houses,killed men, and carried away women and children.
 
　　Matty lived alone with her father, but felt quite safein the log house, for he was never far away. Oneafternoon, as the farmers were all busy in their fields,the bell rang suddenly, -- a sign that there was dangernear, -- and, dropping their rakes or axes, the menhurried to their houses to save wives and babies, andsuch few treasures as they could. Mr. Kilburn caughtup his gun with one hand and his little girl with theother, and ran as fast as he could toward the fort. Butbefore he could reach it he heard a yell, and saw thered men coming up from the river. Then he knew itwould be in vain to try to get in, so he looked about fora safe place to hide Matty till he could come for her.
 
　　He was a brave man, and could fight, so he had nothought of hiding while his neighbors needed help;but the dear little daughter must he cared for first.
 
　　"In the corner of the lonely pasture which theydared not cross, stood a big hollow elm, and there thefarmer hastily hid Matty, dropping her down into thedim nook, round the mouth of which youg shoots hadgrown, so that no one would have suspected any holewas there.
 
　　"Lie still, child, till I come; say your prayers andwait for father,' said the man, as he parted the leavesfor a last glance at the small, frightened face looking upat him.
 
　　"' Come soon,' whispered Matty, and tried to smilebravely, as a stout settler's girl should.
 
　　"Mr. Kilburn went away, and was taken prisonerin the fight, carried off, and for years no one knewwhether he was alive or dead. People missed Matty,but supposed she was with her father, and neverexpected to see her again. A great while afterward thepoor man came back, having escaped and made his waythrough the wilderness to his old home. His first questionwas for Matty, but no one had seen her; and whenhe told them where he had left her, they shook theirheads as if they thought he was crazy. But theywent to look, that he might be satisfied; and he was;for they they found some little bones, some fadedbits of cloth, and two rusty silver buckles marked withMatty's name in what had once been her shoes. AnIndian arrow lay there, too, showing why she hadnever cried for help, but waited patiently so long forfather to come and find her."If Miss Celia expected to see the last bit of hem donewhen her story ended, she was disappointed; for not adozen stitches had been taken. Betty was using hercrash towel for a handkerchief, and Bab's lay on theground as she listened with snapping eyes to the littletragedy.
 
　　"Is it true?" asked Betty, hoping to find relief inbeing told that it was not.
 
　　"Yes; I have seen the tree, and the mound wherethe fort was, and the rusty buckles in an old farmhousewhere other Kilburns live, near the spot where itall happened," answered Miss Celia, looking out thepicture of Victoria to console her auditors.
 
　　"We'll play that in the old apple-tree. Betty canscrooch down, and I'll be the father, and put leaves onher, and then I'll be a great Injun and fire at her. Ican make arrows, and it will be fun, won't it?" criedBab, charmed with the new drama in which she couldact the leading parts.
 
　　"No, it won't!" I don't like to go in a cobwebbyhole, and have you play kill me, I'll make a nice fortof hay, and be all safe, and you can put Dinah downthere for Matty. I don't love her any more, now herlast eye has tumbled out, and you may shoot her justas much as yon like."Before Bab could agree to this satisfactory arrangement,Thorny appeared, singing, as he aimed at a fatrobin, whose red waistcoat looked rather warm andwinterish that August day, --"So he took up his bow,And he feathered his arrow,And said, 'I will shootThis little cock-sparrow.'"But he didn't," chirped the robin, flying away,with a contemptuous flirt of his rusty-black tail.
 
　　"That is exactly what you must promise not to do,boys. Fire away at your targets as much as you like,but do not harm any living creature," said Miss Celia,as Ben followed armed and equipped with her own long-unused accoutrements.
 
　　"Of course we won't if you say so; but, with a littlepractice, I could bring down a bird as well as thatfellow you read to me about with his woodpeckers andlarks and herons," answered Thorny, who had muchenjoyed the article, while his sister lamented over thedestruction of the innocent birds.
 
　　"You'd do well to borrow the Squire's old stuffedowl for a target; there would be some chance of yourhitting him, he is so big," said his sister, who alwaysmade fun of the boy when he began to brag.
 
　　Thorny's only reply was to send his arrow straightup so far out of sight that it was a long while comingdown again to stick quivering in the ground near by,whence Sancho brought it in his mouth, evidentlyhighly approving of a game in which he could join.
 
　　"Not bad for a beginning. Now, Ben, fire away."But Ben's experience with bows was small, and, inspite of his praiseworthy efforts to imitate his greatexemplar, the arrow only turned a feeble sort of somersaultand descended perilously near Bab's uplifted nose.
 
　　"If you endanger other people's life and liberty inyour pursuit of happiness, I shall have to confiscateyour arms, boys. Take the orchard for your archeryground; that is safe, and we can see you as we sithere. I wish I had two hands, so that I could paintyou a fine, gay target;" and Miss Celia lookedregretfully at the injured arm, which as yet was oflittle use.
 
　　"I wish you could shoot, too; you used to beat allthe girls, and I was proud of you," answered Thorny,with the air of a fond elder brother; though, at thetime he alluded to, he was about twelve, and hardly upto his sister's shoulder.
 
　　"Thank you. I shall be happy to give my place toBab and Betty if you will make them some bows andarrows; they could not use those long ones."The young gentlemen did not take the hint asquickly as Miss Celia hoped they would; in fact, bothlooked rather blank at the suggestion, as boys generallydo when it is proposed that girls -- especiallysmall ones -- shall join in any game they are playing.
 
　　"P'r'aps it would be too much trouble," beganBetty, in her winning little voice.
 
　　"I can make my own," declared Bab, with anindependent toss of the head.
 
　　"Not a bit; I'll make you the jolliest small bowthat ever was, Belinda," Thorny hastened to say,softened by the appealing glance of the little maid.
 
　　"You can use mine, Bab ; you've got such a strongfist, I guess you could pull it," added Ben, rememberingthat it would not be amiss to have a comrade whoshot worse than he did, for he felt very inferior toThorny in many ways, and, being used to praise, hadmissed it very much since he retired to private life.
 
　　"I will be umpire, and brighten up the silver arrowI sometimes pin my hair with, for a prize, unless wecan find something better," proposed Miss Celia, gladto see that question settled, and every prospect of thenew play being a pleasant amusement for the hotweather.
 
　　It was astonishing how soon archery became thefashion in that town, for the boys discussed itenthusiastically all that evening, formed the"William Tell Club" next day, with Bab and Betty ashonorary members, and, before the week was out, nearly everylad was seen, like young Norval, " With bended bowand quiver full of arrows," shooting away, with acharming disregard of the safety of their fellowcitizens. Banished by the authorities to secludedspots, the members of the club set up their targetsand practised indefatigably, especially Ben, who soondiscovered that his early gymnastics had given hin asinewy arm and a true eye; and, taking Sanch intopartnership as picker-up, he got more shots out of anhour than those who had to run to and fro.
 
　　Thorny easily recovered much of his former skill,but his strength had not fully returned, and he soongrew tired. Bab, on the contrary, threw herself intothe contest heart and soul, and tugged alvay at thenew bow Miss Celia gave her, for Ben's was too heavy.
 
　　No other girls were admitted, so the outsiders got upa club of their own, and called it "The Victoria," thename being suggested by the magazine article, whichwent the rounds as a general guide and referencebook. Bab and Betty belonged to this club andduly reported the doings of the boys, with whom theyhad a right to shoot if they chose, but soon waivedthe right, plainly seeing that their absence would beregarded in the light of a favor.
 
　　The archery fever raged as fiercely as the base-ballepidemic had done before it, and not only did themagazine circulate freely, but Miss Edgeworth's story,which was eagerly read, and so much admired thatthe girls at once mounted green ribbons, and theboys kept yards of whip-cord in their pockets like theprovident Benjamin of the tale.
 
　　Every one enjoyed the new play very much, andsomething grew out of it which was a lasting pleasureto many, long after the bows and arrows were forgotten.
 
　　Seeing how glad the children were to get a newstory, Miss Celia was moved to send a box of books-- old and new -- to the town library, which wasbut scantily supplied, as country libraries are apt tobe. This donation produced a good effect; for otherpeople hunted up all the volumes they could sparefor the same purpose, and the dusty shelves in thelittle room behind the post-office filled up amazingly.
 
　　Coming in vacation time they were hailed with delight,and ancient books of travel, as well as modern tales,were feasted upon by happy young folks, with plentyof time to enjoy them in peace.
 
　　The success of her first attempt at being a publicbenefactor pleased Miss Celia veru much, and suggestedother ways in which she might serve the quiettown, where she seemed to feel that work was waitingfor her to do. She said little to any one but thefriend over the sea, yet various plans were made thenthat blossomed beautifully by-and-by.
Chapter 19 Speaking Pieces
     The first of September came all too soon, andschool began. Among the boys and girlswho went trooping up to the "East Cornerknowledge-box," as they called it, was our friend Ben,with a pile of neat books under his arm. He feltvery strange, and decidedly shy; but put on a boldface, and let nobody guess that, though nearly thirteen,he had never been to school before. Miss Celiahad told his story to Teacher, and she, being a kindlittle woman, with young brothers of her own, madethings as easy for him as she could. In reading andwriting he did very well, and proudly took his placeamong lads of his own age; but when it came toarithmetic and geography, he had to go down a longway, and begin almost at the beginning, in spite ofThorny's efforts to "tool him along fast." It mortifiedhim sadly, but there was no help for it; and insome of the classes he had dear little Betty to consolewith him when he failed, and smile contentedlywhen he got above her, as he soon began to do, --for she was not a quick child, and plodded throughFirst Parts long after sister Bab was flourishing awayamong girls much older than herself.
 
　　Fortunately, Ben was a short boy and a clever one,so he did not look out of place among the ten andeleven year olders, and fell upon his lessons with thesame resolution with which he used to take a newleap, or practise patiently till he could touch his heelswith his head. That sort of exercise had given hima strong, elastic little body; this kind was to trainhis mind, and make its faculties as useful, quick andsure, as the obedient muscles, nerves and eye, whichkept him safe where others would have broken theirnecks. He knew this, and found much consolationin the fact that, though mental arithmetic was ahopeless task, he could turn a dozen somersaults, andcome up as steady as a judge. When the boyslaughed at him for saying that China was in Africa,he routed them entirely by his superior knowledgeof the animals belonging to that wild country; andwhen "First class in reading" was called, he marchedup with the proud consciousness that the shortestboy in it did better than tall Moses Towne or fat SamKitteridge.
 
　　Teacher praised him all she honestly could, andcorrected his many blunders so quietly that he soonceased to be a deep, distressful red during recitation,and tugged away so manfully that no one couldhelp respecting him for his efforts, and trying tomake light of his failures. So the fiist hard weekwent by, and though the boy's heart had sunk manya time at the prospect of a protracted wrestle withhis own ignorance, he made up his mind to win, andwent at it again on the Monday with fresh zeal, allthe better and braver for a good, cheery talk withMiss Celia in the Sunday evening twilight.
 
　　He did not tell her one of his greatest trials,however, because he thought she could not help himthere. Some of the children rather looked downupon him, called him "tramp" and "beggar," twittedhim with having been a circus boy, and lived in atent like a gypsy. They did not mean to be cruel,but did it for the sake of teasing, never stopping tothink how much such sport can make a fellow-creaturesuffer. Being a plucky fellow, Ben pretended notto mind; but he did feel it keenly, because he wantedto start afresh, and be like other boys. He was notashamed of the old life; but, finding those aroundhim disapproved of it, he was glad to let it be forgotten,even by himself; for his latest recollections werenot happy ones, and present comforts made pasthardships seem harder than before.
 
　　He said nothing of this to Miss Celia; but shefound it out, and liked him all the better for keepingsome of his small worries to hiniself. Bab and Bettycame over Monday afternoon full of indignationat some boyish insult Sam had put upon Ben; and,finding them too full of it to enjoy the reading, MissCelia asked what the matter was. Then both littlegirls burst out in a rapid succession of brokenexclamations, which did not give a very clear idea ofthe difficulty, --"Sam didn't like it because Ben jumped fartherthan he did -- ""And he said Ben ought to be in the poor-house.""And Ben said he ought to be in it pigpen.""So he had! -- such a greedy thing, bringing lovelybig apples, and not giving any one a single bite!""Then he was mad, and we all laughed; and hesaid, 'Want to fight?'
 
　　"And Ben said, 'No, thanky, not much fun inpounding a feather-bed.'""Oh, he was awfully mad then, and chased Ben upthe big maple.""He's there now, for Sam won't let him comedown till he takes it all back.""Ben won't; and I do believe he'll have to stayup all night," said Betty, distressfully.
 
　　"He won't care, and we'll have fun firing up hissupper. Nut cakes and cheese will go splendidly;and may be baked pears wouldn't get smashed, he'ssuch a good catch," added Bab, decidedly relishingthe prospect.
 
　　"If he does not come by tea-time, we will go andlook after him. It seems to me I have heard surne-thing about Sam's troubling him before, haven't I?"asked Miss Celia, ready to defend her protege againstall unfair persecution.
 
　　"Yes,'m, Sam and Mose are always plaguing Ben.
 
　　They are big boys, and we can't make them stop. Iwon't let the girls do it, and the little boys don't dareto, since Teacher spoke to them." answered Bab.
 
　　"Why does not Teacher speak to the big ones?
 
　　"Ben won't tell of them, or let us. He says he'llfight his own battles, and hates tell-tales. I guesshe won't like to have us tell you, but I don't care, forit is too bad!" and Betty looked ready to cry overher friend's tribulations.
 
　　"I'm glad you did, for I will attend to it, and stopthis sort of thing," said Miss Celia, after the childrenhad told some of the tormenting speeches which hadtried poor Ben.
 
　　Just then Thorny appeared, looking much amused.
 
　　and the little girls both called out in a breath, "Didyou see Ben and get him down?""He got himself down in the neatest way you canimagine;" and Thorny laughed at the recollection.
 
　　"Where is Sam? " asked Bab.
 
　　"Staring up at the sky to see where Ben has flownto.""Oh, tell about it!" begged Betty.
 
　　"Well, I came along and found Ben treed, and Samstoning him. I stopped that at once, and told the'fat boy' to be off. He said he wouldn't till Benbegged his pardon; and Ben said he wouldn't do it,if he stayed up for a week. I was just preparingto give that rascal a scientific thrashing, when a loadof hay came along, and Ben dropped on to it so quietlythat Sam, who was trying to bully me, never saw himgo. It tickled me so, I told Sam I guessed I'd lethim off that time, and walked away, leaving him tohunt for Ben, and wonder where the dickens hehad vanished to."The idea of Sam's bewilderment amused the othersas much as Thorny, and they all had a good laughover it before Miss Celia asked, --"Where has Ben gone now?"" Oh, he'll take a little ride, and then slip downand race home full of the fun of it. But I've gotto settle Sam. I won't have our Ben hectored by anyone -- ""But yourself," put in his sister, with a sly smile,for Thorny was rather domineering at times.
 
　　"He doesn't mind my poking him up now andthen, it's good for him; and I always take his partagainst other people. Sam is a bully, and so isMose; and I'll thrash them both if they don'tstop."Anxious to curb her brother's pugnacious propensities,Miss Celia proposed milder measures, promisingto speak to the boys herself if there was any moretrouble.
 
　　"I have been thinking that we should have somesort of merry-making for Ben on his birthday. Myplan was a very simple one; but I will enlarge it, andhave all the young folks come, and Ben shall be kingof the fun. he needs encouragement in well-doing,for he does try; and now the first hard part is nearlyover, I am sure he will get on bravely. If we treathim with respect, and show our regard for him, otherswill follow our example; and that will be better thanfighting about it.""So it will! What shall we do to make our partytip-top?" asked Thorny, falling into the trap at once;for he dearly loved to get up theatricals, and had nothad any for a long time.
 
　　"We will plan something splendid, a 'grand combination,'
 
　　as you used to call your droll mixturesof tragedy, comedy, melodrama and farce," answeredhis sister, with her head already full of lively plots.
 
　　"We'll startle the natives. I don't believe theyever saw a play in all their lives, hey, Bab?""I've seen a circus.""We dress up and do ' Babes in the Wood,"' addedBetty, with dignity.
 
　　"Pho! that's nothing. I'll show you acting thatwill make your hair stand on end, and you shallact too. Bab will be capital for the naughty girls,"began Thorny, excited by the prospect of producinga sensation on the boards, and always ready totease the girls.
 
　　Before Betty could protest that she did not wanther hair to stand up, or Bab could indignantly declinethe rele offered her, a shrill whistle was heard, andMiss Celia whispered, with a warning look, --"Hush! Ben is coming, and he must not know anything about this yet."The next day was Wednesday, and in the afternoonMiss Celia went to hear the children "speak pieces,"though it was very seldom that any of the busymatrons and elder sisters found time or inclination forthese displays of youthful oratory. Miss Celia andMrs. Moss were all the audience on this occasion, butTeacher was both pleased and proud to see them,and a general rustle went through the school as theycame in, all the girls turning from the visitors to nodat Bab and Betty, who smiled all over their roundfaces to see "Ma" sitting up "'side of Teacher,"and the boys grinned at Ben, whose heart beganto beat fast at the thought of his dear mistress comingso far to hear him say his piece.
 
　　Thorny had recommended Marco Bozzaris, butBen preferred John Gilpin, and ran the famous racewith much spirit, making excellent time in some partsand having to be spurred a little in others, but came outall right, though quite breathless at the end, sittingdown amid great applause, some of which, curiouslyenough, seemed to come from outside; which in factit did, for Thorny was bound to hear but would notcome in, lest his presence should abash one orator atleast.
 
　　Other pieces followed, all more or less patriotic andwarlike, among the boys; sentimental among thegirls. Sam broke down in his attempt to give oneof Webster's great speeches, Little Cy Fay boldlyattacked"Again to the battle, Achaians!"and shrieked his way through it in a shrill, smallvoice, bound to do honor to the older brother whohad trained him even if he broke a vessel in theattempt. Billy chose a well-worn piece, but gave it anew interest by his style of delivery; for his gestureswere so spasmodic he looked as if going into a fit,and he did such astonishing things with his voice thatone never knew whether a howl or a growl wouldcome next. When"The woods against a stormy skyTheir giant branches tossed; "Billy's arms went round like the sails of a windmill;the "hymns of lofty cheer" not only "shook thedepths of the desert gloom," but the small childrenon their little benches, and the school-house literallyrang "to the anthems of the free!" When "theocean eagle soared," Billy appeared to be goingbodily up, and the "pines of the forest roared" as ifthey had taken lessons of Van Amburgh's biggestlion. "Woman's fearless eye" was expressed by awild glare; manhood's brow, severely high," by asudden clutch at the reddish locks falling over theorator's hot forehead, and a sounding thump on hisblue checked bosom told where "the fiery heart ofyouth" was located. "What sought they thus far?"he asked, in such a natural and inquiring tone, with hiseye fixed on Mamie Peters, that the startled innocentreplied, "Dunno," which caused the speaker to closein haste, devoutly pointing a stubby finger upward atthe last line.
 
　　This was considered the gem of the collection, andBilly took his seat proudly conscious that his nativetown boasted an orator who, in time, would utterlyeclipse Edward Everett and Wendell Phillips.
 
　　Sally Folsom led off with "The Coral Grove,"chosen for the express purpose of making her friendAlmira Mullet start and blush, when she recited thesecond line of that pleasing poem,"Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove."One of the older girls gave Wordsworth's "LostLove" in a pensive tone, clasping her hands andbringing out the "O" as if a sudden twinge oftoothache seized her when she ended.
 
　　"But she is in her grave, and O,'he difference to me!
 
　　Bab always chose a funny piece, and on this afternoonset them all laughing by the spirit with whichshe spoke the droll poem, "Pussy's Class," which someof my young readers may have read. The "meou"and the "sptzz" were capital, and when the "fondmamma rubbed her nose," the children shouted, forMiss Bab made a paw of her hand and ended with animpromptu purr, which was considered the best imitationever presented to an appreciative public. Bettybashfully murmurred "Little White Lily," swaying toand fro as regularly as if in no other way could therhymes be ground out of her memory.
 
　　"That is all, I believe. If either of the ladies wouldlike to say a few words to the children, I shouldbe pleased to have them," said Teacher, politely,pausing before she dismissed school with a song.
 
　　"Please, 'm. I'd like to speak my piece," answeredMiss Celia, obeying a sudden impulse; and, steppingforward with her hat in her hand, she made a prettycourtesy before she recited Mary Howitt's sweet littleballad, "Mabel on Midsummer Day."She looked so young and merry, and used suchsimple but expressive gestures, and spoke in such aclear, soft voice that the children sat as if spell-bound,learning several lessons from this new teacher, whoseperformance charmed them from beiginning to end, andleft a moral which all could understand and carryaway in that last verse, --"'Tis good to make all duty sweet,To be alert and kind;'Tis good, like Littie Mabel,To have a willing mind."Of course there was an enthusiastic clapping whenMiss Celia sat down, but even while hands applauded,consciences pricked, and undone tasks, complainingwords and sour faces seemed to rise up reproachfullybefore many of the children, as well as their ownfaults of elocution.
 
　　"Now we will sing," said Teacher, and a greatclearing of throats ensued, but before a note could beuttered, the half-open door swung wide, and Sancho,with Ben's hat on, walked in upon his hind-legs, andstood with his paws meekly folded, while a voice fromthe entry sang rapidly, --"Benny had a little dog,His fleece was white as snow,And everywhere that Benny went,The dog was sure to go.
 
　　He went into the School one day,which was against the rule;It made the children laugh and playTo see a dog --"Mischievous Thorny got no further, for a generalexplosion of laughter drowned the last words, andBen's command "Out, you rascal!" sent Sanch to theright-about in double-quick time.
 
　　Miss Celia tried to apologize for her bad brother,and Teacher tried to assure her that it didn't matterin the least, as this was always a merry time, andMrs. Moss vainly shook her finger at her naughtydaughters; they as well as the others would havetheir laugh out,a nd only partially sobered down whenthe Bell rang for "Attention." They thought theywere to be dismissed, and repressed their giggles aswell as they could in order to get a good start for avociferous roar when they got out. But, to their greatsurprise, the pretty lady stood up again and said, inher friendly way, --"I just want to thank you for this pleasant littleexhibition, and ask leave to come again. I also wish toinvite you all to my boy's birthday party on Saturdayweek. The archery meeting is to be in the afternoon,and both clubs will be there, I believe. In the eveningwe are going to have some fun, when we can laughas much as we please without breaking any of therules. In Ben's name I invite you, and hope you willall come, for we mean to make this the happiestbirthday he ever had."There were twenty pupils in the room, but theeighty hands and feet made such a racket at thisannouncement that an outsider would have thought ahundred children, at least, must have been at it. MissCelia was a general favorite because she nodded to allthe girls, called the boys by their last names, evenaddressing some of the largest as "Mr." which wontheir hearts at once, so that if she had invited themall to come and be whipped they would have gonesure that it was some delightful joke. With whateagerness they accepted the present invitation onecan easily imagine, though they never guessed whyshe gave it in that way, and Ben's face was a sight tosee, he was so pleased and proud at the honor donehim that he did not know where to look, and was gladto rush out with the other boys and vent his emotionsin whoops of delight. He knew that some little plotwas being concocted for his birthday, but neverdreamed of any thing so grand as asking the wholeschool, Teacher and all. The effect of the invitationwas seen with comical rapidity, for the boys becameoverpowering in their friendly attentions to Ben.
 
　　Even Sam, fearing he might be left out, promptlyoffered the peaceful olive-branch in the shape of abig apple, warm from his pocket, and Mose proposeda trade of jack-knives which would be greatly toBen's advantage. But Thorny made the noblestsacrifice of all, for he said to his sister, as they walkedhome together, --"I'm not going to try for the prize at all. I shootso much better than the rest, having had more practice,you know, that it is hardly fair. Ben and Billyare next best, and about even, for Ben's strong wristmakes up for Billy's true eye, and both want to win.
 
　　If I am out of the way Ben stands a good chance, forthe other fellows don't amount to much.""Bab does; she shoots nearly as well as Ben, andwants to win even more than he or Billy. She musthave her chance at any rate.""So she may, but she won't do any thing; girlscan't, though it 's good exercise and pleases them totry. ""If I had full use of both my arms I'd show youthat girls can do a great deal when they like. Don'tbe too lofty, young man, for you may have to comedown," laughed Miss Celia, amused by his airs.
 
　　"No fear," and Thorny calmly departed to set histargets for Ben's practice.
 
　　"We shall see," and from that moment Miss Celiamade Bab her especial pupil, feeling that a little lessonwould be good for Mr. Thorny, who rather lorded itover the other young people. There was a spice ofmischief in it, for Miss Celia was very young at heart,in spite of her twenty-four years, and she was boundto see that her side had a fair chance, believing thatgirls can do whatever they are willing to strive patientlyand wisely for.
 
　　So she kept Bab at work early and late, giving herall the hints and help she could with only one efficienthand, and Bab was delighted to think she did wellenough to shoot with the club. Her arms ached andher fingers grew hard with twanging the bow, but shewas indefatigable, and being a strong, tall child of herage, with a great love of all athletic sports, she got onfast and well, soon learning to send arrow after arrowwith ever increasing accuracy nearer and nearer tothe bull's-eye.
 
　　The boys took very little notice of her, being muchabsorbed in their own affairs, but Betty did for Babwhat Sancho did for Ben, and trotted after arrows tillher short legs were sadly tired, though her patiencenever gave out. She was so sure Bab would win thatshe cared nothing about her own success, practisinglittle and seldom hitting any thing when she tried.
Chapter 20 Ben's Birthday
     A superb display of flags flapped gayly inthe breeze on the September morning whenBen proudly entered his teens. An irruptionof bunting seemied to have broken out all over theold house, for banners of every shape and size, colorand design, flew from chimney-top to gable, porchand gate-way, making the quiet place look as livelyas a circus tent, which was just what Ben most desiredand delighted in.
 
　　The boys had been up very early to prepare theshow, and when it was ready enjoyed it hugely, forthe fresh wind made the pennons cut strange capers.
 
　　The winged lion of Venice looked as if trying to flyaway home; the Chinese dragon appeared to brandishhis forked tail as he clawed at the Burmese peacock;the double-headed eagle of Russia pecked at theTurkish crescent with one beak, while the otherseemed to be screaming to the English royal beast,"Come on and lend a paw." In the hurry of hoistingthe Siamese elephant got turned upside down,and now danced gayly on his head, with the stars andstripes waving proudly over him. A green flag witha yellow harp and sprig of shamrock hung in sight ofthe kitchen window, and Katy, the cook, got breakfastto the tune of "St. Patrick's day in the morning."Sancho's kennel was half hidden under a rustlingpaper imitation of the gorgeous Spanish banner, andthe scarlet sun-and-moon flag of Arabia snapped andflaunted from the pole over the coach-house, as adelicate compliment to Lita, Arabian horses beingconsidered the finest in the world.
 
　　The little girls came out to see, and declared it wasthe loveliest sight they ever beheld, while Thornyplayed "Hail Columbia" on his fife, and Ben, mountingthe gate-post, crowed long and loud like a happycockerel who had just reached his majority. He hadbeen surprised and delighted with the gifts he foundin his room on awaking and guessed why Miss Celiaand Thorny gave him such pretty things, for amongthem was a match-box made like a mouse-trap. Thedoggy buttons and the horsey whip were treasures,indeed, for Miss Celia had not given them when theyfirst planned to do so, because Sancho's return seemedto be joy and reward enough for that occasion. Buthe did not forget to thank Mrs. Moss for the cake shesent him, nor the girls for the red mittens which theyhad secretly and painfully knit. Bab's was long andthin, with a very pointed thumb, Betty's short andwide, with a stubby thumb, and all their mother'spulling and pressing could not make them look alike,to the great affliction of the little knitters. Ben,however, assured them that he rather preferred odd ones,as then he could always tell which was right andwhich left. He put them on immediately and wentabout cracking the new whip with an expression ofcontent which was droll to see, while the childrenfollowed after, full of admiration for the hero of theday.
 
　　They were very busy all the morning preparing forthe festivities to come, and as soon as dinner was overevery one scrambled into his or her best clothes asfast as possible, because, although invited to come attwo, impatient boys and girls were seen hoveringabout the avenue as early as one.
 
　　The first to arrive, however, was an uninvitedguest, for just as Bab and Betty sat down on theporch steps, in their stiff pink calico frocks and whiteruffled aprons, to repose a moment before the partycame in, a rustling was heard among the lilacs, andout stepped Alfred Tennyson Barlow, looking like asmall Robin Hood, in a green blouse with a silverbuckle on his broad belt, a feather in his little capand a bow in his hand.
 
　　"I have come to shoot. I heard about it. Mypapa told me what arching meant. Will there beany little cakes? I like them."With these opening remarks the poet took a seatand calmly awaited a response. The young ladies,I regret to say, giggled, then remembering theiimanners, hastened to inform him that there would beheaps of cakes, also that Miss Celia would not mindhis coming without an invitation, they were quite sure.
 
　　"She asked me to come that day. I have beenvery busy. I had measles. Do you have themhere?" asked the guest, as if anxious to comparenotes on the sad subject.
 
　　"We had ours ever so long ago. What have youbeen doing besides having measles?" said Betty,showing a polite interest.
 
　　"I had a fight with a bumble-bee.""Who beat?" demanded Bab.
 
　　"I did. I ran away and he couldn't catch me.""Can you shoot nicely?
 
　　"I hit a cow. She did not mind at all. I guessshe thought it was a fly.""Did your mother know you were coming?" askedBab, feeling an interest in runaways.
 
　　"No; she is gone to drive, so I could not askher.""It is very wrong to disobey. My Sunday-schoolbook says that children who are naughty that waynever go to heaven," observed virtuous Betty, in awarning tone.
 
　　"I do not wish to go," was the startling reply.
 
　　"Why not?" asked Betty, severely.
 
　　"They don't have any dirt there. My mammasays so. I am fond of dirt. I shall stay here wherethere is plenty of it," and the candid youth began togrub in the mould with the satisfaction of a genuineboy.
 
　　"I am afraid you're a very bad child.""Oh yes, I am. My papa often says so and he knowsall about it," replied Alfred with an involuntarywriggle suggestive of painful memories. Then,as if anxious to change the conversation from itssomewhat personal channel, he asked, pointing to arow of grinning heads above the wall, "Do you shootat those?"Bab and Betty looked up quickly and recognizedthe familiar faces of their friends peering down atthem, like a choice collection of trophies or targets.
 
　　"I should think you'd be ashamed to peek beforethe party was ready!" cried Bab, frowning darklyupon the merry young ladies.
 
　　"Miss Celia told us to come before two, and beready to receive folks, if she wasn't down," addedBetty, importantly.
 
　　"It is striking two now. Come along, girls;" andover scrambled Sally Folsom, fo11owed by three orfour kindred spirits, just as their hostess appeared.
 
　　"You look like Amazons storming a fort," shesaid, as the girls cattle up, each carrying her bow andarrows, while green ribbons flew in every direction.
 
　　"How do you do, sir? I have been hoping youwould call again," added Miss Celia, shaking handswith the pretty boy, who regarded with benigninterest the giver of little cakes.
 
　　Here a rush of boys took place, and further remarkswere cut short, for every one was in a hurry tobegin. So the procession was formed at once, MissCelia taking the lead, escorted by Ben in the post ofhonor, while the boys and girls paired off behind,arm in arm, bow on Shoulder, in martial array.
 
　　Thorny and Billy were the band, and marched before,fifing and drumming "Yankee Doodle" with avigor which kept feet moving briskly, made eyessparkle, and young hearts dance under the gaygowns and summer jackets. The interesting strangerwas elected to bear the prize, laid out on a red pin-cushion; and did so with great dignity, as he wentbeside the standard bearer, Cy Fay, who bore Ben'schoicest flag, snow-white, with a green wreathsurrounding a painted bow and arrow, and with theletters W. T. C. done in red below.
 
　　Such a merry march all about the place, out at theLodge gate, up and down the avenue, along the windingpaths, till they halted in the orchard, where thetarget stood, and seats were placed for the archerswhile they waited for their turns. Various rules andregulations were discussed, and then the fun began.
 
　　Miss Celia had insisted that the girls should beinvited to shoot with the boys; and the lads consentedwithout much concern, whispering to one another withcondescending shrugs, "Let 'em try, if th@y like; theycan't do any thing."There were various trials of skill before the greatmatch came off, and in these trials the young gentlemendiscovered that two at least of the girls could dosomething; for Bab and Sally shot better than manyof the boys, and were well rewarded for their exertionsby, the change which took place in the faces andconversation of their mates.
 
　　"Why, Bab, you do as well as if I'd taught youmyself," said Thorny, much surprised and notaltogether pleased at the little girl's skill.
 
　　"A lady taught me; and I mean to beat every oneof you," answered Bab, saucily, while her sparklingeyes turned to Miss Celia with a mischievoustwinkle in them.
 
　　"Not a bit of it," declared Thorny, stoutly; but hewent to Ben and whispered, "Do your best, oldfellow, for sister has taught Bab all the scientificpoints, and the little rascal is ahead of Billy.""She won't get ahead of me," said Ben, pickingout his best arrow, and trying the string of his bowwith a confident air which re-assured Thorny, whofound it impossible to believe that a girl ever could,would, or should excel a boy in any thing he caredto try.
 
　　It really did look as if Bab would beat when thematch for the prize came off; and the children gotmore and more excited as the six who were to tryfor it took turns at the bull's-eye. Thorny wasumpire, and kept account of each shot, for the arrowwhich went nearest the middle would win. Eachhad three shots; and very soon the lookers-on sawthat Ben and Bab were the best marksmen, and oneof them would surely get the silver arrow.
 
　　Sam, who was too lazy to practise, soon gave upthe contest, saying, as Thorny did, "It wouldn't befair for such a big fellow to try with the little chaps,"which made a laugh, as his want of skill was painfullyevident. But Mose went at it gallantly; and, if hiseye had been as true as his arms were strong, the"little chaps" would have trembled. But his shotswere none of them as near as Billy's; and he retiredafter the third failure, declaring that it was impossibleto shoot against the wind, though scarcely a breathwas stirring.
 
　　Sally Folsom was bound to beat Bab, and twangedaway in great style; all in vain, however, as with tallMaria Newcomb, the third girl who attempted the trial.
 
　　Being a little near-sighted, she had borrowed hersister's eye-glasses, and thereby lessened her chanceof success; for the pinch on her nose distracted herattention, and not one of her arrows went beyondthe second ring to her great disappointment. Billydid very well, but got nervous when his last shotcame, and just missed the bull's-eye by being in ahurry.
 
　　Bab and Ben each had one turn more; and, asthey were about even, that last arrow would decidrthe victory. Both had sent a shot into the bull's-eye,but neither was exactly in the middle; so there wasroom to do better, even, and the children crowdedround, crying eagerly, "Now, Ben!" "Now, Bab!""Hit her up, Ben!" "Beat him, Bab!" whileThorny looked as anxious as if the fate of the countrydepended on the success of his man. Bab's turncame first; and, as Miss Celia examined her bow tosee that all was right, the little girl said, With hereyes on her rival's excited face, --"I want to beat, but Ben will feel so bad, I 'mosthope I sha'n't.""Losing a prize sometimes makes one happier thangaining it. You have proved that you could do betterthan most of them; so, if you do not beat, you maystill feet proud," answered Miss Celia, giving back thebow with a smile that said more than her words.
 
　　It seemed to give Bab a new idea, for in a minuteall sorts of recollections, wishes, and plans rushedthrough her lively little mind, and she followed asudden generous impulse as blindly as she oftendid a wilful one.
 
　　"I guess he'll beat," she said, softly, with a quicksparkle of the eyes, as she stepped to her place andfired without taking her usual careful aim.
 
　　Her shot struck almost as near the centre on theright as her last one had hit on the left; and therewas a shout of delight from the girls as Thornyannounced it before he hurried back to Ben, whisperinganxiously, --"Steady, old Man, steady; you must beat that, orwe shall never hear the last of it."Ben did not say, "She won't get ahead of me," ashe had said at the first; he set his teeth, threw offhis hat, and, knitting his brows with a resoluteexpression, prepared to take steady aim, though hisheart beat fast and his thumb trembled as he pressedit on the bowstring.
 
　　"I hope you'll beat, I truly do," said Bab, at hiselbow; and, as if the breath that framed the generouswish helped it on its way, the arrow flew straightto the bull's-eye, hitting, apparently, the very spotwhere Bab's best shot had left a hole.
 
　　"A tie! a tie!" cried the girls, as a general rushtook place toward the target.
 
　　"No, Ben's is nearest. Ben's beat! Hoorayshouted the boys, throwing up their hats.
 
　　There was only a hair's-breadth difference, andBab could honestly have disputed the decision; butshe did not, though for an instant she could nothelp wishing that the cry had been "Bab's beat!
 
　　Hurrah! " it sounded so pleasant. Then she sawBen's beaming face, Thorny's intense relief, andcaught the look Miss Celia sent her over the headsof the boys, and decided, with a sudden warm glowall over her little face, that losing a prize didsometimes make one happier than winning it. Up wenther best hat, and she burst out in a shrill, "Rah,rah, rah!" that sounded very funny coming all aloneafter the general clamor had subsided.
 
　　"Good for you, Bab! you are an honor to theclub. and I'm proud of you", said Prince Thorny,with a hearty handshake; for, as his man had won,he could afford to praise the rival who had put himon his mettle, though she was a girl.
 
　　Bab was much uplifted by the royal commendation,but a few minutes later felt pleased as well as proudwhen Ben, having received the prize, came to her, asshe stood behind a tree sucking her blistered thumb,while Betty braided up her dishevelled locks.
 
　　"I think it would be fairer to call it a tie, Bab, forit really was, and I want you to wear this. I wantedthe fun of beating, but I don't care a bit for this girl'sthing and I'd rather see it on you."As he spoke, Ben offered the rosette of greenribbon which held the silver arrow, and Bab's eyesbrightened as they fell upon the pretty ornament,for to her "the girl's thing" was almost as good asthe victory.
 
　　"Oh no; you must wear it to show who won.
 
　　Miss Celia wouldn't like it. I don't mind not gettingit; I did better than all the rest, and I guess Ishouldn't like to beat you," answered Bab, unconsciouslyputting into childish words the sweet generosity whichmakes so many sisters glad to see theirbrothers carry off the prizes of life, while they arecontent to know that they have earned them and cando without the praise.
 
　　But if Bab was generous, Ben was just; andthough he could not explain the feeling, would notconsent to take all the glory without giving his littlefriend a share.
 
　　"You must wear it; I shall feel real mean if youdon't. You worked harder than I did, and it wasonly luck my getting this. Do, Bab, to please me,"he persisted, awkwardly trying to fasten the ornamentin the middle of Bab's' white apron.
 
　　"Then I will. Now do you forgive me for losingSancho?" asked Bab, with a wistful look whichmade Ben say, heartily, --"I did that when he came home.""And you don't think I'm horrid?""Not a bit of it; you are first-rate, and I'll standby you like a man, for you are 'most as good as aboy!" cried Ben, anxious to deal handsomely with hisfeminine rival, whose skill had raised her immenselyin his opinion.
 
　　Feeling that he could not improve that last compliment,Bab was fully satisfied, and let him leave theprize upon her breast, conscious that she had someclaim to it.
 
　　"That is where it should be, and Ben is a trueknight, winning the prize that he may give it to hislady, while he is content with the victory," said MissCelia, laughingly, to Teacher, as the children ran offto join in the riotous games which soon made theorchard ring.
 
　　"He learned that at the circus 'tunnyments,' ashe calls them. He is a nice boy, and I am muchinterested in him; for he has the two things that domost toward making a man, patience and courage,"answered Teacher, also as she watched theyoung knight play and the honored ladytearing about in a game of tag.
 
　　"Bab is a nice child, too," said Miss Celia; "sheis as quick as a flash to catch an idea and carry itout, though very often the ideas are wild ones. Shecould have won just now, I fancy, if she had tried,but took the notion into her head that it was noblerto let Ben win, and so atone for the trouble she gavehim in losing the dog. I saw a very sweet look onher face just now, and am sure that Ben will neverknow why he beat.""She does such things at school sometimes, and Ican't bear to spoil her little atonements, though theyare not always needed or very wise," answeredTeacher. "Not long ago I found that she had beengiving her lunch day after day to a poor child whoseldom had any, and when I asked her why, she said,with tears, 'I used to laugh at Abby, because she hadonly crusty, dry bread, and so she wouldn't bringany. I ought to give her mine and be hungry, it wasso mean to make fun of her poorness.""Did you stop the sacrifice?""No; I let Bab 'go halves,' and added an extrabit to my own lunch, so I could make my contributionlikewise.""Come and tell me about Abby. I want to makefriends with our poor people, for soon I shall have aright to help them;" and, putting her arm in Teacher's,Miss Celia led her away for a quiet chat in the porch,making her guest's visit a happy holiday by confidingseveral plans and asking advice in the friendliest way.
Chapter 21 Cupid's Last Appearance
     A picnic supper on the grass followed the games,and then, as twilight began to fall, the youngpeople were marshalled to the coach-house,now transformed into a rustic theatre. One big doorwas open, and seats, arranged lengthwise, faced thered table-cloths which formed the curtain. A row oflamps made very good foot-lights, and an invisibleband performed a Wagner-like overture on combs,tin trumpets, drums, and pipes, with an accompanimentof suppressed laughter.
 
　　Many of the children had never seen any thing likeit, and sat staring about them in mute admiration andexpectancy; but the older ones criticised freely, andindulged in wild speculations as to the meaning ofvarious convulsions of nature going on behind thecurtain.
 
　　While Teacher was dressing the actresses for thetragedy, Miss Celia and Thorny, who were old handsat this sort of amusement, gave a "Potato" pantomimeas a side show.
 
　　Across an empty stall a green cloth was fastened,so high that the heads of the operators were not seen.
 
　　A little curtain flew up, disclosing the front of aChinese pagoda painted on pasteboard, with a doorand window which opened quite naturally. This stoodon one side, several green trees with paper lanternshanging from the boughs were on the other side, andthe words "Tea Garden," printed over the top, showedthe nature of this charming spot.
 
　　Few of the children had ever seen the immortalPunch and Judy, so this was a most agreeable novelty,and before they could make out what it meant, avoice began to sing, so distinctly that every word washeard, --"In China there lived a little man,His name was Chingery Wangery Chan."Here the hero "took the stage" with great dignity,clad in a loose yellow jacket over a blue skirt, whichconcealed the hand that made his body. A pointedhat adorned his head, and on removing this to bowhe disclosed a bald pate with a black queue in themiddle, and a Chinese face nicely painted on thepotato, the lower part of which was hollowed out tofit Thorny's first finger, while his thumb and secondfinger were in the sleeves of the yellow jacket, makinga lively pair of arms. While he saluted, the songwent n, --"His legs were short, his feet were small,And this little man could not walk at all."Which assertion was proved to be false by the agilitywith which the "little man " danced a jig in timeto the rollicking chorus, --"Chingery changery ri co day,Ekel tekel happy man;Uron odesko canty oh, oh,Gallopy wallopy China go."At the close of the dance and chorus, Chan retiredinto the tea garden, and drank so many cups of thenational beverage, with such comic gestures, that thespectators were almost sorry when the opening ofthe opposite window drew all eyes in that direction.
 
　　At the lattice appeared a lovely being; for this potatohad been pared, and on the white surface were paintedpretty pink checks, red lips, black eyes, and obliquebrows; through the tuft of dark silk on the headwere stuck several glittering pins, and a pink jacketshrouded the plump figure of this capital little Chineselady. After peeping coyly out, so that all couldsee and admire, she fell to counting the money froma purse, so large her small hands could hardly hold iton the window seat. While she did this, the songwent on to explain, --"Miss Ki Hi was short and squat,She had money and he had notSo off to her he resolved to go,And play her a tune on his little banjo."During the chorus to this verse Chan was seen tuninghis instrument in the garden, and at the endsallied gallantly forth to sing the following tenderstrain, --"Whang fun li,Tang hua ki,Hong Kong do ra me!
 
　　Ah sin lo,Pan to fo,Tsing up chin leute!"Carried away by his passion, Chan dropped hisbanjo, fell upon his knees, and, clasping his hands,bowed his forehead in the dust before his idol. But,alas! --"Miss Ki Hi heard his notes of love,And held her wash-bowl up aboveIt fell upon the little man,And this was the end of Chingery Chan,"Indeed it was; for, as the doll's basin of real waterwas cast forth by the cruel charmer, poor Chan expiredin such strong convulsions that his head rolleddown among the audience. Miss Ki Hi peeped tosee what had become of her victim, and the shutterdecapitated her likewise, to the great delight of thechildren, who passed around the heads, pronouncinga "Potato" pantomime "first-rate fun."Then they settled themselves for the show, havingbeen assured by Manager Thorny that they were aboutto behold the most elegant and varied combinationever produced on any stage. And when one readsthe following very inadequate description of thesomewhat mixed entertainment, it is impossible to denythat the promise made was nobly kept.
 
　　After some delay and several crashes behind thecurtain, which mightily amused the audience, theperformance began with the well-known tragedy of"Bluebeard;" for Bab had set her heart upon it,and the young folks had acted it so often in theirplays that it was very easy to get up, with a fewextra touches to scenery and costumes. Thorny wassuperb as the tyrant with a beard of bright blue worsted,a slouched hat and long feather, fur cloak, redhose, rubber boots, and a real sword which clankedtragically as he walked. He spoke in such a deepvoice, knit his corked eye-brows, and glared sofrightfully, that it was no wonder poor Fatima quakedbefore him as he gave into her keeping an immensebunch of keys with one particularly big, bright one,among them.
 
　　Bab was fine to see, with Miss Celia's blue dresssweeping behind her, a white plume in her flowinghair, and a real necklace with a pearl locket about herneck. She did her part capitally, especially the shriekshe gave when she looked into the fatal closet, theenergy with which she scrubbed the tell-tale key,and her distracted tone when she callcd out: "SisterAnne, O, sister Anne, do you see anybody coming?"while her enraged husband was roaring: "Will youcome down, madam, or shall I come and fetchyou?"Betty made a captivating Anne, -- all in white muslin,and a hat full of such lovely pink roses that shecould not help putting up one hand to feel them asshe stood on the steps looking out at the little windowfor the approaching brothers who made such a dinthat it sounded like a dozen horsemen instead if two.
 
　　Ben and Billy were got up regardless of expense inthe way of arms; for their belts were perfect arsenals,and their wooden swoids were big enough to striketerror into any soul, though they struck no sparks outof Bluebeard's blade in the awful combat which precededthe villain's downfall and death.
 
　　The boys enjoyed this part intensely, and cries of"Go it, Ben!" " Hit him again, Billy!" "Two againstone isn't fair!" "Thorny's a match for 'em." " Nowhe's down, hurray!" cheered on the combatants, till,after a terrific struggle, the tyrant fell, and withconvulsive twitchings of the scarlet legs, slowly expiredwhile the ladies sociably fainted in each other's arms,and the brothers waved their swords and shook handsover the corpse of their enemy.
 
　　This piece was rapturously applauded, and all theperformers had to appear and bow their thanks, ledby the defunct Bluebeard, who mildly warned theexcited audience that if they "didn't look out the seatswould break down, and then there'd be a nice mess."Calmed by this fear they composed themselves, andwaited with ardor for the next play, which promised tobe a lively one, judging from the shrieks of laughterwhich came from behind the cuitain.
 
　　"Sanch 's going to be in it, I know; for I heardBen say, 'Hold him still; he won't bite,'" whisperedSam, longing to "jounce up and down, so great washis satisfaction at the prospect, for the dog wasconsidered the star of the company.
 
　　"I hope Bab will do something else, she is so funny.
 
　　Wasn't her dress elegant?" said Sally Folsum, burningto wear a long wilk gown and a feathei in her hair.
 
　　"I like Betty best, she's so cunning, and she peekedout of the window just as if she really saw somebodycoming," answered Liddy Peckham, privately resolvingto tease mother for some pink roses before anotherSunday came.
 
　　Up went the curtain at last, and a voice announced"A Tragedy in Three Tableaux." "There's Betty!"was the general exclamation, as the audience recognizeda familiar face under the little red hood worn bythe child who stood receiving a basket from Teacher,who made a nice mother with her finger up, as iftelling the small messenger not to loiter by the way.
 
　　"I know what that is!" cried Sally; "it's 'Mabelon Midsummer Day.' The piece Miss Celia spoke;don't you know?""There isn't any sick baby, and Mabel had a 'kerchiefpinned about her head.' I say it's Red RidingHood," answered Liddy, who had begun to learnMary Howitt's pretty poem for her next piece, andknew all about it.
 
　　The question was settled by the appearance of thewolf in the second scene, and such a wolf! On fewamateur stages do we find so natural an actor for thatpart, or so good a costume, for Sanch was irresistiblydroll in the gray wolf-skin which usually lay besideMiss Celia's bed, now fitted over his back and fastenedneatly down underneath, with his own facepeeping out at one end, and the handsome tail bobinggayly at the other. What a comfort that tail wasto Sancho, none but a bereaved bow-wow could evertell. It reconciled him to his distasteful part at once,it made rehearsals a joy, and even before the publiche could not resist turning to catch a glimpse of thenoble appendage, while his own brief member waggedwith the proud consciousness that though the tail didnot match the head, it was long enough to be seen ofall men and dogs.
 
　　That was a pretty picture, for the little maid camewalking in with the basket on her arm, and such aninnocent face inside the bright hood that it was quitenatural the gray wolf should trot up to her withdeceitful friendliness, that she should pat and talkto him confidingly about the butter for grandma, andthen that they should walk away together, he politelycarrying her basket, she with her hand on his head,little dreaming what evil plans were taking shapeinside.
 
　　The children encored that, but there was no timeto repeat it, so they listened to more stifled merrimentbehind the red table-cloths, and wonderedwhether the next scene would be the wolf popping hishead out ofthe window as Red Riding Hood knocks,or the tragic end of that sweet child.
 
　　It was neither, for a nice bed had been made, andin it reposed the false grandmother, with a rufflednightcap on, a white gown, and spectacles. Bettylay beside the wolf, staring at him as if just about tosay, "Why, grandma, what great teeth you've got!"for Sancho's mouth was half open and a red tonguehung out, as he panted with the exertion of keepingstill. This tableau was so very good, and yet sofunny, that the children clapped and shouted frantically;this excited the dog, who gave a bounce andwould have leaped off the bed to bark at the rioters,if Betty had not caught him by the legs, and Thornydropped the curtain just at the moment when thewicked wolf was apparently in the act of devouringthe poor little girl, with most effuctive growls.
 
　　They had to come out then, and did so, both muchdishevelled by the late tussle, for Sancho's cap was allover one eye, and Betty's hood was anywhere but onher head. She made her courtesy prettily, however;her fellow-actor bowed with as much dignity as a shortnight-gown permitted, and they retired to their well-earned repose.
 
　　Then Thorny, looking much excited, appeared tomake the following request: "As one of the actors inthe next piece is new to the business, the companymust all keep as still as mice, and not stir till I givethe word. It's perfectly splendid! so don't you spoilit by making a row.""What do you suppose it is?" asked every one, andlistened with all their might to get a hint, if possible.
 
　　But what they heard only whetted their curiosity andmystified them more and more. Bab's voice cried ina loud whisper, "Isn't Ben beautiful?" Then therewas a thumping noise, and Miss Celia said, in ananxious tone, "Oh, do be careful," while Ben laughedout as if he was too happy to care who heard him,and Thorny bawled "Whoa!" in a way which wouldhave attracted attention if Lita's head had notpopped out of her box, more than once, to surveythe invaders of her abode, with a much astonishedexpression.
 
　　"Sounds kind of circusy, don't it?" said Sam toBilly, who had come out to receive the complimentsof the company and enjoy the tableau at a safedistance.
 
　　"You just wait till you see what's coming. It beatsany circus I ever saw," answered Billy, rubbing hishands with the air of a man who had seen many insteadof but one.
 
　　"Ready! Be quick and get out of the way whenshe goes off!" whispered Ben, but they heard him andprepared for pistols, rockets or combustibles of somesort, as ships were impossible under the circumstances,and no other "She" occurred to them.
 
　　A unanimous "O-o-o-o !" was heard when the curtainrose, but a stern "Hush!" from Thorny keptthem mutely staring with all their eyes at the grandspectacle of the evening. There stood Lita with awide flat saddle on her back, a white head-stall andreins, blue rosettes in her ears, and the look of amuch-bewildered beast in her bright eyes. But who thegauzy, spangled, winged creature was, with a giltcrown on its head, a little bow in its hand, and one whiteslipper in the air, while the other seemed merely totouch the saddle, no one could tell for a minute, sostrange and splendid did the apparition appear. Nowonder Ben was not recognized in this brilliantdisguise, which was more natural to him than Billy's blueflannel or Thorny's respectable garments. He had sobegged to be allowed to show himself "just once," ashe used to be in the days when "father" tossed himup on the bare-backed old General, for hundreds tosee and admire, that Miss Celia had consented, muchagainst her will, and hastily arranged some bits ofspangled tarlatan over the white cotton suit which was tosimulate the regulation tights. Her old dancing slippersfitted, and gold paper did the rest, while Ben,sure of his power over Lita, promised not to breakhis bones, and lived for days on the thought of themoment when he could show the boys that he had notboasted vainly of past splendors.
 
　　Before the delighted children could get their breath,Lita gave signs of her dislike to the foot-lights, and,gathering up the reins that lay on her neck, Ben gavethe old cry, "Houp-la!" and let her go, as he hadoften done before, straight out of the coach-house fora gallop round the orchard.
 
　　"Just turn about and you can see perfectly well,but stay where you are till he comes back," commandedThorny, as signs of commotion appeared inthe excited audience.
 
　　Round went the twenty children as if turned byone crank, and sitting there they looked out into themoonlight where the shining figure flashed to and fro,now so near they could see the smiling face underthe crown, now so far away that it glittered like afire-fly among the dusky green. Lita enjoyed thatrace as heartily as she had done several others of late,and caracoled about as if anxious to make up for herlack of skill by speed and obedience. How muchBen liked it there is no need to tell, yet it was aproof of the good which three months of a quiet, usefullife had done him, that even as he pranced gaylyunder the boughs thick with the red and yellow applesalmost ready to be gathered, he found this riding inthe fresh air with only his mates for an audiencepleasanter than the crowded tent, the tired horses,profane men, and painted women, friendly as some ofthem had been to him.
 
　　After the first burst was over, he felt rather glad, onthe whole, that he was going back to plain clothes,helpful school, and kindly people, who cared more tohave him a good boy than the most famous Cupid thatever stood on one leg with a fast horse under him.
 
　　"You may make as much noise as you like, now;Lita's had her run and will be as quiet as a lamb afterit. Pull up, Ben, and come in; sister says you'll getcold," shouted Thorny, as the rider came canteringround after a leap over the lodge gate and backagain.
 
　　So Ben pulled up, and the admiring boys and girlswere allowed to gather about him, loud in theirpraises as they examined the pretty mare and themythological character who lay easily on her back.
 
　　He looked very little like the god of love now; forhe had lost one slipper and splashed his white legswith dew and dust, the crown had slipped down uponhis neck, and the paper wings hung in an apple-treewhere he had left them as he went by. No troublein recognizing Ben, now; but somehow he didn'twant to be seen, and, instead of staying to be praised,he soon slipped away, making Lita his excuse tovanish behind the curtain while the rest went into thehouse to have a finishing-off game of blindman's-buffin the big kitchen.
 
　　"Well, Ben, are you satisfied?" asked Miss Celia,as she stayed a moment to unpin the remains of hisgauzy scarf and tunic.
 
　　"Yes, 'm, thank you, it was tip-top.""But you look rather sober. Are you tired, or isit because vou don't want to take these trappings offand be plain Ben again?" she said, looking downinto his face as he lifted it for her to free him fromhis gilded collar.
 
　　"I want to take 'em off; for somehow I don't feelrespectable," and he kicked away the crown he hadhelped to make so carefully, adding with a glancethat said more than his words: "I'd rather be 'plainBen' than any one else, for you like to have me.""Indeed I do; and I'm so glad to hear you saythat, because I was afraid you'd long to be off to theold ways, and all I've tred to do would be undone.
 
　　Would you like to go back, Ben?" and Miss Celiaheld his chin an instant, to watch the brown face thatlooked so honestly back at her.
 
　　"No, I wouldn't -- unless -- he was there andwanted me."The chin quivered just a bit, but the black eyeswere as bright as ever, and the boy's voice so earnest,she knew he spoke the truth, and laid her white handsoftly on his head, as she answered in the tone heloved so much, because no one else had ever used itto him, --"Father is not there; but I know he wants you,dear, and I am sure he would rather see you in ahome like this than in the place you came from. Nowgo and dress; but, tell me first, has it been a happybirthday?""Oh, Miss Celia! I didn't know they could be sobeautiful, and this is the beautifulest part of it;I don't know how to thank you, but I'm going to try --" and,finding words wouldn't come fast enough, Ben justput his two arms round her, quite speechless withgratitude; then, as if ashamed of his little outburst,he knelt down in a great hurry to untie his one shoe.
 
　　But Miss Celia liked his answer better than thefinest speech ever made her, and went away throughthe moonlight, saying to herself, --"If I can bring one lost lamb into the fold, I shallbe the fitter for a shepherd's wife, by-and-by."
Chapter 22 A Boy's Bargain
     It was some days before the children were tiredof talking over Ben's birthday party; for it wasa great event in their small world; but, gradually,newer pleasures came to occupy their minds,and they began to plan the nutting frolics whichalways followed the early frosts. While waiting forJack to open the chestnut burrs, they varied themonotony of school life by a lively scrimmage longknown as "the wood-pile fight."The girls liked to play in the half-empty shed, andthe boys, merely for the fun of teasing, declared thatthey should not, so blocked up the doorway as fast asthe girls cleared it. Seeing that the squabble was amerry one,and the exercise better for all than loungingin the sun or reading in school during recess, Teacherdid not interfere, and the barrier rose and fell almostas regularly as the tide.
 
　　It would be difficult to say which side worked theharder; for the boys went before school began tobuild up the barricade, and the girls stayed afterlessons were over to pull down the last one made inafternoon recess. They had their play-time first;and, while the boys waited inside, they heard theshouts of the girls, the banging of the wood, and thefinal crash, as the well-packed pile went down. Then,as the lassies came in, rosy, breathless, and triumphant,the lads rushed out to man the breach, and labor gallantlytill all was as tight as hard blows could make it.
 
　　So the battle raged, and bruised knuckles, splintersin fingers, torn clothes, and rubbed shoes, were theonly wounds received, while a great deal of fun washad out of the maltreated logs, and a lasting peacesecured between two of the boys.
 
　　When the party was safely over, Sam began to fallinto his old way of tormenting Ben by calling names,as it cost no exertion to invent trying speeches, andslyly utter them when most likely to annoy. Benbore it as well as he could; but fortune favored himat last, as it usually does the patient, and he was bleto make his own terms with his tormentor.
 
　　When the girls demolished the wood-pile, they performeda jubilee chorus on combs, and tin kettles,played like tambourines; the boys celebrated theirvictories with shrill whistles, and a drum accompanimentwith fists on the shed walls. Billy brought hisdrum, and this was such an addition that Sam huntedup an old one of his little brother's, in order that hemight join the drum corps. He had no sticks, however,and, casting about in his mind for a goodsubstitute for the genuine thing, bethought him ofbulrushes.
 
　　"Those will do first-rate, and there are lots in thema'sh, if I can only get 'em," he said to himself, andturned off from the road on his way home to get asupply.
 
　　Now, this marsh was a treacherous spot, and thetragic story was told of a cow who got in there andsank till nothing was visible but a pair of horns abovethe mud, which suffocated the unwary beast. For thisreason it was called "Cowslip Marsh," the wags said,though it was generally believed to be so named forthe yellow flowers which grew there in great profusionin the spring.
 
　　Sam had seen Ben hop nimbly from one tuft ofgrass to another when he went to gather cowslips forBetty, and the stout boy thought he could do thesame. Two or three heavy jumps landed him, notamong the bulrushes, as he had hoped, but in a poolof muddy water, where he sank up to his middle withalarming rapidity. Much scared, he tried to wade out,but could only flounder to a tussock of grass, andcling there, while he endeavored to kick his legs free.
 
　　He got them out, but struggled in vain to coil themup or to hoist his heavy body upon the very smallisland in this sea of mud. Down they splashedagain; and Sam gave a dismal groan as he thoughtof the leeches and water-snakes which might be lyingin wait below. Visions of the lost cow also flashedacross his agitated mind, and he gave a despairingshout very like a distracted "Moo!"Few people passed along the lane, and the sun wassetting, so the prospect of a night in the marsh nervedSam to make a frantic plunge toward the bulrushisland, which was nearer than the mainland, andlooked firmer than any tussock round him. But hefailed to reach this haven of rest, and was forced to stopat an old stump which stuck up, looking very like themoss-grown horns of the "dear departed." Roostinghere, Sarn began to shout for aid in every key possibleto the human voice. Such hoots and howls, whistlesand roars, never woke the echoes of the lonely marshbefore, or scared the portly frog who resided there incalm seclusion.
 
　　He hardly expected any reply but the astonishedCaw!" of the crow, who sat upon a fence watchinghim with gloomy interest; and when a cheerful"Hullo, there!" sounded from the lane, he was sograteful that tears of joy rolled down his fat cheeks.
 
　　"Come on! I'm in the ma'sh. Lend a hand andget me out! bawled Sam, anxiously waiting for hisdeliverer to appear, for he could only see a hat bobbingalong behind the hazel-bushes that fringed the lane.
 
　　Steps crashed through the bushes, and then overthe wall came an active figure, at the sight of whichSam was almost ready to dive out of sight, for, of allpossible boys, who should it be but Ben, the last personin the world whom he would like to have seehim in his present pitiful plight.
 
　　"Is it you, Sam? Well, you are in a nice fix!"and Ben's eyes began to twinkle with mischievousmerriment, as well they might, for Sam certainly wasa spectacle to convulse the soberest person. Perchedunsteadily on the gnarled stump, with his muddy legsdrawn up, his dismal face splashed with mud, and thewhole lower half of his body as black as if he hadbeen dipped in an inkstand, he presented such acomically doleful object that Ben danced about,laughing like a naughty will-o'-the-wisp who, havingled a traveller astray then fell to jeering at him.
 
　　"Stop that, or I'll knock your head off!" roaredSam, in a rage.
 
　　"Come on and do it; I give you leave," answeredBen, sparring away derisively as the other tottered onhis perch, and was forced to hold tight lest he shouldtumble off.
 
　　"Don't laugh, there 's a good chap, but fish me outsomehow, or I shall get my death sitting here all wetand cold," whined Sam, changing his tune, and feelingbitterly that Ben had the upper hand now.
 
　　Ben felt it also; and, though a very good-naturedboy, could not resist the temptation to enjoy thisadvantage for a moment at least.
 
　　"I won't laugh if I can help it; only you do lookso like a fat, speckled frog, I may not be able to holdin. I'll pull you out pretty soon; but first I'm goingto talk to you, Sam," said Ben, sobering down as hetook a seat on the little point of land nearest thestranded Samuel.
 
　　"Hurry up, then; I'm as stiff as a board now, andit's no fun sitting here on this knotty old thing,"growled Sam, with a discontented squirm.
 
　　"Dare say not, but 'it is good for you,' as you saywhen you rap me over the head. Look here, I'vegot you in a tight place, and I don't mean to helpyou a bit till you promise to let me alone. Nowthen!" and Ben's face grew stern with his rememberedwrongs as he grimly eyed his discomfited foe.
 
　　"I'll promise fast enough if you won't tell anyoneabout this," answered Sam, surveying himself and hissurroundings with great disgust.
 
　　"I shall do as I like about that.""Then I won't promise a thing! I'm not goingto have the whole school laughing at me," protestedSam, who hated to be ridiculed even more than Bendid.
 
　　"Very well; good-night!" and Ben walked offwith his hands in his pockets as coolly as if the bogwas Sam's favorite retreat.
 
　　"Hold on, don't be in such a hurry!" shouted Sam,seeing little hope of rescue if he let this chance go.
 
　　"All right! " and back came Ben, ready for furthernegotiations.
 
　　"I'll promise not to plague you, if you'll promisenot to tell on me. Is that what you want?""Now I come to think of it, there is one thingmore. I like to make a good bargain when I begin,"said Ben, with a shrewd air. " You must promise tokeep Mose quiet, too. He follows your lead, and ifyou tell him to stop it he will. If I was big enough,I'd make you hold your tongues. I ain't, so we'lltry this way.""Yes, Yes, I'll see to Mose. Now, bring on a rail,there's a good fellow. I've got a horrid cramp inmy legs," began Sam, thinking he had bought helpdearly, yet admiring Ben's cleverness in making themost of his chance.
 
　　Ben brought the rail, but, just as he was about tolay it from the main-land to the nearest tussock, hestopped, saying, with the naughty twinkle in his blackeyes again, "One more little thing must be settledfirst, and then I'll get you ashore. promise youwon't plague the girls either, 'specially Bab andBetty. You pull their hair, and they don't like it.""Don't neither! Wouldn't touch that Bab for adollar; she scratches and bites like a mad cat," wasSam's sulky reply.
 
　　"Glad of it; she can take care of herself. Bettycan't; and if you touch one of her pig-tails I'll upand tell right out how I found you snivelling in thema'sh like a great baby. So now!" and Ben emphasizedhis threat with a blow of the suspended railwhich splashed the water over poor Sam, quenchinghis last spark of resistance.
 
　　"Stop! I will! -- I will!""True as you live and breathe!" demanded Ben,sternly binding him by the most solemn oath heknew.
 
　　"True as I live and breathe," echoed Sam, dolefullyrelinquishing his favorite pastime of pullingBetty's braids and asking if she was at home.
 
　　"I'll come over there and crook fingers on thebargain," said Ben, settling the rail and running overit to the tuft, then bridging another pool and crossingagain till he came to the stump.
 
　　"I never thought of that way," said Sam, watchinghim with much inward chagrin at his own failure.
 
　　"I should think you'd written 'Look before youleap,' in your copy-book often enough to get the ideainto your stupid head. Come, crook," commandedBen, leaning forward with extended little finger.
 
　　Sam obediently performed the ceremony, and thenBen sat astride one of the horns of the stump whilethe muddy Crusoe went slowly across the rail frompoint to point till he landed safely on the shore,when he turned about and asked with an ungratefuljeer, --"Now what's going to become of you, old Look-before-you-leap ? ""Mud turtles can only sit on a stump and bawl tillthey are taken off, but frogs have legs worth something,and are not afraid of a little water," answeredBen, hopping away in an opposite direction, sincethe pools between him and Sam were too wide foreven his lively legs.
 
　　Sam waddled off to the brook in the lane torinse the mud from his nether man before facing hismother, and was just wringing himself out when Bencame up, breathless but good natured, for he felt thathe had made an excellent bargain for himself andfriends.
 
　　"Better wash your face; it's as speckled as atiger-lily. Here's my handkerchief if yours is wet,"he said, pulling out a dingy article which hadevidently already done service as a towel.
 
　　"Don't want it," muttered Sam, gruffly, as hepoured the water out of his muddy shoes.
 
　　"I was taught to say ' Thanky' when folks got meout of scrapes. But you never had much bringingup, though you do 'live in a house with a gambrelroof,'" retorted Ben, sarcastically quoting Sam'sfrequent boast; then he walked off, much disgustedwith the ingratitude of man.
 
　　Sam forgot his manners, but he remembered hispromise, and kept it so well that all the schoolwondered. No one could guess the secret of Ben's powerover him, though it was evident that he had gainedit in some sudden way, for at the least sign of Sam'sformer tricks Ben would crook his little finger andwag it warningly, or call out "Bulrushes!" and Samsubsided with reluctant submission, to the greatamazement of his mates. When asked what it meant,Sa, turned sulky; but Ben had much fun out of it,assuring the other boys that those were the signsand password of a secret society to which he andSam belonged, and promised to tell them all about itif Sam would give him leave, which, of course, hewould not.
 
　　This mystery, and the vain endeavors to find itout caused a lull in the war of the wood-pile, andbefore any new game was invented something happenedwhich gave the children plenty to talk about for atime.
 
　　A week after the secret alliance was formed, Benran in one evening with a letter for Miss Celia. Hefound her enjoying the cheery blaze of the pine-conesthe little girls had picked up for her, and Bab andBetty sat in the small chairs rocking luxuriously asthey took turns to throw on the pretty fuel. MissCelia turned quickly to receive the expected letter,glanced at the writing, post-mark and stamp, withan air of delighted surprise, then clasped it closein both hands, saying, as she hurried out of theroom, --"He has come! he has come! Now you may tellthem, Thorny.""Tell its what? asked Bab, pricking up her carsat once.
 
　　"Oh, it's only that George has come, and I supposewe shall go and get married right away," answeredThorny, rubbing his hands as if he enjoyedthe prospect.
 
　　"Are you going to be married? asked Betty, so soberlythat the boys shouted, and Thorny, with difficultycomposed himself sufficiently to explain.
 
　　"No, child, not just yet; but sister is, and I mustgo and see that all is done up ship-shape, and bringyou home some wedding-cake. Ben will take careof you while I'm gone.""When shall you go?" asked Bab, beginning to longfor her share of cake.
 
　　"To-morrow, I guess. Celia has been packed andready for a week. We agreed to meet George in NewYork, and be married as soon as he got his best clothesunpacked. We are men of our word, and off we go.
 
　　Won't it be fun?""But when will you come back again?" questionedBetty, looking anxious.
 
　　"Don't know. Sister wants to come soon, but I'drather have our honeymoon somewhere else, -- Niagara,Newfoundland, West Point, or the Rocky Mountains,"said Thorny, mentioning a few of the places hemost desired to see.
 
　　"Do you like him?" asked Ben, very naturally wonderingif the new master would approve of the young man-of-all-work.
 
　　"Don't I? George is regularly jolly; though nowhe's a minister, perhaps he'll stiffen up and turn sober.
 
　　Won't it be a shame if he does?" and Thorny lookedalarmed at the thought of losing his congenial friend.
 
　　"Tell about him; Miss Celia said you might", putin Bab, whuse experience of "jolly" ministers hadbeen small.
 
　　"Oh, there isn't much about it. We met in Switzerlandgoing up Mount St. Bernard in a storm, and -- ""Where the good dogs live?" inquired Betty, hopingthey would come into the story.
 
　　"Yes; we spent the night up there, and Georgegave us his room; the house was so full, and hewouldn't let me go down a steep place where I wantedto, and Celia thought he'd saved my life, and was verygood to him. Then we kept meeting, and the first thingI knew she went and was engaged to him. I didn'tcare, only she would come home so he might go onstudying hard and get through quick. That was a yearago, and last winter we were in New York at uncle's;and then, in the spring, I was sick, and we came here,and that's all.""Shall you live here always when you come back?
 
　　asked Bab, as Thorny paused for breath.
 
　　"Celia wants to. I shall go to college, so I don'tmind. George is going to help the old minister hereand see how he likes it. I'm to study with him, andif he is as pleasant as he used to be we shall havecapital times, -- see if we don't.""I wonder if he will want me round," said Ben,feeling no desire to be a tramp again.
 
　　"I do, so you needn't fret about that, my hearty,"answered Thorny, with a resounding slap on theshoulder which reassured Ben more than any promises.
 
　　"I'd like to see a live wedding, then we could playit with our dolls. I've got a nice piece of mosquitonetting for a veil, and Belinda's white dress is clean.
 
　　Do you s'pose Miss Celia will ask us to hers?" saidBetty to Bab, as the boys began to discuss St. Bernarddogs with Spirit.
 
　　"I wish I could, dears," answered a voice behindthem; and there was Miss Celia, looking so happy thatthe little girls wondered what the letter could have saidto give her such bright eyes and smiling lips." I shallnot be gone long, or be a bit changed when I comeback, to live among you years I hope, for I am fondof the old place now, and mean it shall be home," sheadded, caressing the yellow heads as if they were dearto her.
 
　　"Oh, goody!" cried Bab, while Betty whisperedwith both arms round Miss Celia, --"I don't think we could bear to have anybody elsecome here to live.""It is very pleasant to hear you say that, and I meanto make others feel so, if I can. I have been trying alittle this summer, but when I come back I shall go towork in earnest to be a good minister's wife, and youmust help me.""We will," promised both children, ready for anything except preaching in the high pulpit.
 
　　Then Miss Celia turned to Ben, saying, in therespectful way that always made him feel at leasttwenty-five, --"We shall be off to-moriow, and I leave you incharge. Go on just as if we were here, and be surenothing will be changed as far as you are concernedwhen we come back."Ben's face beamed at that; but the only way hecould express his relief was by making such a blazein honor of the occasion that he nearly roasted thecompany.
 
　　Next morning, the brother and sister slipped quietlyaway, and the children hurried to school, eager to tellthe great news that "Miss Celia and Thorny had goneto be married, and were coming back to live here forever and ever."
Chapter 23 Somebody Comes
     Bab and Betty had been playing in the avenueall the afternoon several weeks later, but as theshadows began to lengthen both agreed to situpon the gate and rest while waiting for Ben, who hadgone nutting with a party of boys. When they playedhouse Bab was always the father, and went hunting orfishing with great energy and success, bringing homeall sorts of game, from elephants and crocodiles tohumming-birds and minnows. Betty was the mother, anda most notable little housewife, always mixing upimaginary delicacies with sand and dirt in old pansand broken china, which she baked in an oven of herown construction.
 
　　Both had worked hard that day, and were glad toretire to their favorite lounging-place, where Bab washappy trying to walk across the wide top bar withoutfalling off, and Betty enjoyed slow, luxurious swingswhile her sister was recovering from her tumbles. Onthis occasion, having indulged their respective tastes,they paused for a brief interval of conversation, sittingside by side on the gate like a pair of plump graychickens gone to roost.
 
　　"Don't you hope Ben will get his bag full? Weshall have such fun eating nuts evenings observedBab, wrapping her arms in her apron, for it was Octobernow, and the air was growing keen.
 
　　"Yes, and Ma says we may boil some in our littlekettles. Ben promised we should have half," answeredBetty, still intent on her cookery.
 
　　"I shall save some of mine for Thorny.""I shall keep lots of mine for Miss Celia.""Doesn't it seem more than two weeks since shewent away?""I wonder what she'll bring us."Before Bab could conjecture, the sound of a stepand a familiar whistle made both look expectantlytoward the turn in the road, all ready to cry out inone voice, "How many have you got?" Neitherspoke a word, however, for the figure which presentlyappeared was not Ben, but a stranger, -- a manwho stopped whistling, and came slowly on dustinghis shoes in the way-side grass, and brushing thesleeves of his shabby velveteen coat as if anxious tofreshen himself up a bit.
 
　　"It's a tramp, let's run away," whispered Betty,after a hasty look.
 
　　"I ain't afraid," and Bab was about to assume herboldest look when a sneeze spoilt it, and made herclutch the gate to hold on.
 
　　At that unexpected sound the man looked up,showing a thin, dark face, with a pair of sharp, blackeyes, which surveyed the little girls so steadily thatBetty quaked, and Bab began to wish she had atleast jumped down inside the gate.
 
　　"How are you?" said the man with a goodnaturednod and smile, as if to re-assure the round-eyedchildren staring at him.
 
　　"Pretty well, thank you, sir," responded Bab,politely nodding back at him.
 
　　"Folks at home? " asked the ,an, looking overtheir heads toward the house.
 
　　"Only Ma; all the rest have gone to be married.""That sounds lively. At the other place all thefolks had gone to a funeral," and the man laughed ashe glanced at the big house on the hill.
 
　　"Whh, do you know the Squire?" exclaimed Bab,much surprised and re-assured.
 
　　"Come on purpose to see him. Just strollinground till he gets back," with an impatient sort ofsigh.
 
　　"Betty thought you was a tramp, but I wasn'tafraid. I like tramps ever since Ben came,"explained Bab, with her usual candor.
 
　　"Who 's Ben!" and the man came nearer soquickly that Betty nearly fell backward. "Don'tyou be scared, Sissy. I like little girls, so you seteasy and tell me about Ben," he added, in a persuasivetone, as he leaned on the gate so near that bothcould see what a friendly face he had in spite of itseager, anxious look.
 
　　"Ben is Miss Celia's boy. We found him moststarved in the coach-house, and he's been here eversince," answered Bab, comprehensively.
 
　　"Tell me about it. I like tramps, too," andthe man looked as if he did very much, as Bab toldthe little story in a few childish words that werebetter than a much more elegant account.
 
　　"You were very good to the little feller," was allthe man said when she ended her somewhat confusedtale, in which she had jumbled the old coachand Miss Celia, dinner-pails and nutting, Sancho andcircuses.
 
　　"'Course we were! He's a nice boy and we arefond of him, and he likes us," said Bab, heartily.
 
　　" 'Specially me," put in Betty, quite at ease now,for the black eyes had softened wonderfully, and thebrown face was smiling all over.
 
　　"Don't wonder a mite. You are the nicest pairof little girls I've seen this long time," and the manput a hand on either side of them, as if he wanted tohug the chubby children. But he didn't do it; hemerely smiled and stood there asking questions tillthe two chatterboxes had told him every thing therewas to tell in the most confiding manner, for he verysoon ceased to seem like a stranger, and looked sofamiliar that Bab, growing inquisitive in her turn,suddenly said, --"Haven't you ever been here before? It seems asif I'd seen you.""Never in my life. Guess you've seen somebodythat looks like me," and the black eyes twinkled fora minute as they looked into the puzzled little facesbefore him, then he said, soberly, --"I'm looking round for a likely boy; don't youthink this Ben would suite me? I want just such alively sort of chap.""Are you a circus man?" asked Bab, quickly.
 
　　"Well, no, not now. I'm in better business.""I'm glad of it -- we don't approve of 'em; but Ido think they're splendid!"Bab began by gravely quoting Miss Celia, and endedwith an irrepressible burst of admiration whichcontrasted drolly with her first remark.
 
　　Betty added, anxiously: "We can't let Ben go anyway. I know he wouldn't want to, and Miss Celiawould feel bad. Please don't ask him.""He can do as he likes, I suppose. He hasn't gotany folks of his own, has he?""No, his father died in California, and Ben felt sobad he cried, and we were real sorry, and gave him apiece of Ma, 'cause he was so lonesome," answeredBetty, in her tender little voice, with a pleading lookwhich made the man stroke her smooth check andsay, quite softly, --"Bless your heart for that! I won't take himaway, child, or do a thing to trouble anybody that'sbeen good to him.""He 's coming now. I hear Sanch barking at thesquirrels!" cried Bab, standing up to get a goodlook down the road.
 
　　The man turned quickly, and Betty saw that hebreathed fast as he watched the spot where the lowsunshine lay warmly on the red maple at the corner.
 
　　Into this glow came unconscious Ben, whistling "RoryO'Moore," loud and Clear, as he trudged along with aheavy bag of nuts over his shoulder and the light fullon his contented face. Sancho trotted before andsaw the stranger first, for the sun in Ben's eyesdazzled him. Since his sad loss Sancho cherisheda strong dislike to tramps, and now he paused togrowl and show his teeth, evidently intending to warnthis one off the premises.
 
　　"He won't hurt you -- " began Bab, encouragingly;but before she could add a chiding word tothe dog, Sanch gave an excited howl, and flew at theman's throat as if about to throttle him.
 
　　Betty screamed, and Bab was about to go to therescue when both perceived that the dog was lickingthe stranger's face in an ecstasy of joy, and heard theman say as he hugged the curly beast, --"Good old Sanch!" I knew he wouldn't forgetmaster, and he doesn't""What's the matter?" called Ben, coming upbriskly, with a strong grip of his stout stick.
 
　　There was no need of any answer, for, as he cameinto the shadow, he saw the man, and stood lookingat him as if he were a ghost.
 
　　"It's father, Benny; don't you know me?" asked theman, with an odd sort of choke in his voice, as he thrustthe dog away, and held out both hands to the boy.
 
　　Down dropped the nuts, and crying, "Oh, Daddy,Daddy!" Ben cast himself into the arms of the shabbyvelveteen coat, while poor Sanch tore round them indistracted circles, barking wildly, as if that was theonly way in which he could vent his rapture.
 
　　What happened next Bab and Betty never stoppedto see, but, dropping from their roost, they wentflying home like startled Chicken Littles with theastounding news that "Ben's father has come alive,and Sancho knew him right away!"Mrs. Moss had just got her cleaning done up, andwas resting a minute before setting the table, but sheflew out of her old rocking-chair when the excitedchildren told the wonderful tale, exclaiming as theyended, --"Where is he? Go bring him here. I declare itfairly takes my breath away!"Before Bab could obey, or her mother composeherself, Sancho bounced in and spun round like aninsane top, trying to stand on his head, walk upright,waltz and bark all at once, for the good old fellowhad so lost his head that he forgot the loss of his tail.
 
　　"They are coming! they are coming! See, Ma,what a nice man he is," said Bab, hopping about onone foot as she watched the slowly approaching pair.
 
　　"My patience, don't they look alike! I shouldknow he was Ben's Pa anywhere!" said Mrs. Moss,running to the door in a hurry.
 
　　They certainly did resemble one another, and it wasalmost comical to see the same curve in the legs, thesame wide-awake style of wearing the hat, the samesparkle of the eye, good-natured smile and agilemotion of every limb. Old Ben carried the bag inone hand while young Ben held the other fast, lookinga little shame-faced at his own emotion now, forthere were marks of tears on his cheeks, but too gladto repress the delight he felt that he had really foundDaddy this side heaven.
 
　　Mrs. Moss unconsciously made a pretty little pictureof herself as she stood at the door with her honestface shining and both hands ont, saying in a heartytone, which was a welcome in itself,"I'm real glad to see you safe and well, Mr.
 
　　Brown! Come right in and make yourself to home.
 
　　I guess there isn't a happier boy living than Ben isto-night.""And I know there isn't a gratefuler man livingthan I am for your kindness to my poor forsaken littlefeller," answered Mr. Brown, dropping both his burdensto give the comely woman's hands a hard shake.
 
　　"Now don't say a word about it, but sit down andrest, and we'll have tea in less'n no time. Ben mustbe tired and hungry, though he's so happy I don'tbelieve he knows it," laughed Mrs. Moss, bustlingaway to hide the tears in her eyes, anxious to makethings sociable and easy all round.
 
　　With this end in view she set forth her best china,and covered the table with food enough for a dozen,thanking her stars that it was baking day, andevery thing had turned out well. Ben and his father sattalking by the window till they were bidden to "drawup and help themselves" with such hospitable warmththat every thing had an extra relish to the hungrypair.
 
　　Ben paused occasionally to stroke the rusty coat-sleeve with bread-and-buttery fingers to convincehimself that "Daddy" had really come, and his fatherdisposed of various inconvenient emotions by eating asif food was unknown in California. Mrs. Moss beamedon every one from behind the big tea-pot like a mildfull moon, while Bab and Betty kept interrupting oneanother in their eagerness to tell something new aboutBen and how Sanch lost his tail.
 
　　"Now you let Mr. Brown talk a little; we all wantto hear how he 'came alive,' as you call it," said Mrs.
 
　　Moss, as they drew round the fire in the "settin'-room,"leaving the tea-things to take care of themselves.
 
　　It was not a long story, but a very interesting oneto this circle of listeners; all about the wild life on theplains trading for mustangs, the terrible kick from avicious horse that nearly killed Ben, sen., the longmonths of unconsciousness in the California hospital,the slow recovery, the journey back, Mr. Smithers'stale of the boy's disappearance, and then the anxioustrip to find out from Squire Allen where he now was.
 
　　"I asked the hospital folks to write and tell you assoon as I knew whether I was on my head or myheels, and they promised; but they didn't; so I cameoff the minute I could, and worked my way back,expecting to find you at the old place. I was afraidyou'd have worn out your welcome here and goneoff again, for you are as fond of travelling as yourfather.""I wanted to sometimes, but the folks here wereso dreadful good to me I couldn't," confessed Ben,secretly surprised to find that the prospect of going offwith Daddy even cost him a pang of regret, for theboy had taken root in the friendly soil, and was nolonger a wandering thistle-down, tossed about byevery wind that blew.
 
　　"I know what I owe 'em, and you and I will workout that debt before we die, or our name isn't B.B.,"said Mr. Brown, with an emphatic slap on his knee,which Ben imitated half unconsciously as he exclaimedheartily, --"That's so!" adding, more quietly, "What areyou going to do now? Go back to Smithers and theold business?""Not likely, after the way he treated you, Sonny.
 
　　I've had it Out with him, and he won't want to seeme again in a hurry," answered Mr. Brown, with asudden kindling of the eye that reminded Bab of Ben'sface when he shook her after losing Sancho.
 
　　"There's more circuses than his in the world; butI'll have to limber out ever so much before I'm goodfor much in that line," said the boy, stretching hisstout arms and legs with a curious mixture of satisfactionand regret.
 
　　"You've been living in clover and got fat, yourascal," and his father gave him a poke here and there,as Mr. Squeers did the plump Wackford, when displayinghim as a specimen of the fine diet at Do-the-boys Hall.
 
　　"Don't believe I could put you up nowif I tried, for I haven't got my strength back yet, andwe are both out of practice. It's just as well, for I'veabout made up my mind to quit the business andsettle down somewhere for a spell, if I can get anything to do," continued the rider, folding his arms andgazing thoughtfully into the fire.
 
　　"I shouldn't wonder a mite if you could right here,for Mr. Towne has a great boarding-stable overyonder, and he's always wanting men." Said Mrs.
 
　　Moss, eagerly, for she dreaded to have Ben go, andno one could forbid it if his father chose to takehim away.
 
　　"That sounds likely. Thanky, ma'am. I'll lookup the concern and try my chance. Would you callit too great a come-down to have father an 'ostlerafter being first rider in the 'Great Golden Menagerie,Circus, and Colossem,' hey, Ben? " asked Mr. Brown,quoting the well-remembered show-bill with a laugh.
 
　　"No, I shouldn't; it's real jolly up there whenthe big barn is full and eighty horses have to betaken care of. I love to go and see 'em. Mr. Towneasked me to come and be stable-boy when I rode thekicking gray the rest were afraid of. I hankeredto go, but Miss Celia had just got my new books, andI knew she'd feel bad if I gave up going to school.
 
　　Now I'm glad I didn't, for I get on first rate andlike it.""You done right, boy, and I'm pleased with you.
 
　　Don't you ever be ungrateful to them that befriendedyou, if you want to prosper. I'll tackle the stablebusiness a Monday and see what's to be done. NowI ought to be walking, but I'll be round in the morningma'am, if you can spare Ben for a spell to-morrow.
 
　　We'd like to have a good Sunday tramp and talk;wouldn't we, Sonny?" and Mr. Brown rose to go withhis hand on Ben's shoulder, as if loth to leave himeven for the night.
 
　　Mrs. Moss saw the longing in his face, and forgettingthat he was an utter stranger, spoke right out ofher hospitable heart.
 
　　"It's a long piece to the tavern, and my little backbedroom is always ready. It won't make a mite oftrouble if you don't mind a plain place, and you areheartily welcome."Mr. Brown looked pleased, but hesitated to acceptany further favor from the good soul who had alreadydone so much for him and his. Ben gave him notime to speak, however, for running to a door heflung it open and beckoned, saying, eagerly, --"Do stay, father; it will be so nice to have you.
 
　　This is a tip-top room; I slept here the night I came,and that bed was just splendid after bare ground for afortnight.""I'll stop, and as I'm pretty well done up, I guesswe may as well turn in now," answered the new guest;then, as if the memory of that homeless little lad sokindly cherished made his heart overflow in spite ofhim, Mr. Brown paused at the door to say hastily,with a hand on Bab and Betty's heads, as if hispromise was a very earnest one, --"I don't forget, ma'am, these children shall neverwant a friend while Ben Brown's alive; " then he shutthe door so quickly that the other Ben's prompt"Hear, hear!" was cut short in the middle.
 
　　"I s'pose he means that we shall have a piece ofBen's father, because we gave Ben a piece of ourmother," said Betty, softly.
 
　　"Of course he does, and it's all fair," answeredBab, decidedly. "Isn't he a nice man, Ma?
 
　　"Go to bed, children," was all the answer she got;but when they were gone, Mrs. Moss, as she washedup her dishes, more than once glanced at a certainnail where a man's hat had not hung for five years,and thought with a sigh what a natural, protecting airthat slouched felt had.
 
　　If one wedding were not quite enough for a child'sstory, we might here hint what no one dreamed ofthen, that before the year came round again Benhad found a mother, Bab and Betty a father, and Mr.
 
　　Brown's hat was quite at home behind the kitchendoor. But, on the whole, it is best not to say a wordabout it.
Chapter 24 The Great Gate Is Opened
     The Browns were up and out so early nextmorning that Bab and BeLty were sure theyhad run away in the night. But on lookingfor them, they were discovered in the coach-housecriticising Lita, both with their hands in their pockets,both chewing straws, and looking as much alike as abig elephant and a small one.
 
　　"That's as pretty a little span as I've seen for along time," said the elder Ben, as the children cametrotting down the path hand in hand, with the fourblue bows at the ends of their braids bobbing brisklyup and down.
 
　　"The nigh one is my favorite, but the off one isthe best goer, though she's dreadfully hard bitted,"answered Ben the younger, with such a comical assumptionof a jockey's important air that his fatherlaughed as he said in an undertone, --"Come, boy, we must drop the old slang sincewe've given up the old business. These good folksare making a gentleman of you, and I won't be theone to spoil their work. Hold on, my dears, and I'llshow you how they say good-moining in California,"he added, beckoning to the litlle girls, who now cameup rosy and smiling.
 
　　"Breakfast is ready, sir," said Betty, looking muchrelieved to find them.
 
　　"We thought you'd run away from us," explainedBab, as both put out their hands to shake thoseextended to them.
 
　　"That would be a mean trick. But I'm going torun away with you," and Mr. Brown whisked a littlegirl to either shoulder before they knew what hadhappened, while Ben, remembering the day, withdifficulty restrained himself from turning a seriesof triumphant somersaults before them all the wayto the door, where Mrs. Moss stood waiting forthem.
 
　　After breakfast Ben disappeared for a short time,and returned in his Sunday suit, looking so neat andfresh that his father surveyed him with surprise andpride as he came in full of boyish satisfaction in histrim array.
 
　　"Here's a smart young chap! Did you take allthat trouble just to go to walk with old Daddy?"asked Mr. Brown, stroking the smooth head, for theywere alone just then, Mrs. Moss and the childrenbeing up stairs preparing for church.
 
　　"I thought may be you'd like to go to meetingfirst," answered Ben, looking up at him with such ahappy face that it was hard to refuse any thing.
 
　　I'm too shabby, Sonny, else I'd go in a minuteto please you.""Miss Celia said God didn't mind poor clothes, andshe took me when I looked worse than you do. Ialways go in the morning; she likes to have me," saidBen, turning his hat about as if not quite sure whathe ought to do.
 
　　"Do you want to go?" asked his father in a toneof surprise.
 
　　"I want to please her, if you don't mind. Wecould have our tramp this afternoon.""I haven't been to meeting since mother died, andit don't seem to come easy, though I know I oughtto, seeing I'm alive and here," and Mr. Brown lookedsoberly out at the lovely autumn world as if glad tobe in it after his late danger and pain.
 
　　"Miss Celia said church was a good place to takeour troubles, and to be thankful in. I went when Ithought you were dead, and now I'd love to go whenI've got my Daddy safe again,"No one saw him, so Ben could not resist giving hisfather a sudden hug, which was warmly returned asthe man said earnestly, --"I'll go, and thank the Lord hearty for giving meback my boy better'n I left him!"For a minute nothing was heard but the loud tickof the old clock and a mournful whine front Sancho,shut up in the shed lest he should go to church withoutan invitation.
 
　　Then, as steps were heard on the stairs, Mr. Browncaught up his hat, saying hastily, --"I ain't fit to go with them, you tell 'm, and I'llslip into a back seat after folks are in. I know theway." And, before Ben could reply, he was gone.
 
　　Nothing was seen of him along the way, but he sawthe little party, and rejoiced again over his boy,changed in so many ways for the better; for Benwas the one thing which had kept his heart softthrough all the trials and temptations of a rough life.
 
　　"I promised Mary I'd do my best for the poorbaby she had to leave, and I tried; but I guess abetter friend than I am has been raised up for himwhen he needed her most. It won't hurt me to followhim in this road," thought Mr. Brown, as he cameout into the highway from his stroll "across-lots,"feeling that it would be good for him to stay in thisquiet place, for his own as well as his son's sake.
 
　　The Bell had done ringing when he reached thegreen, but a single boy sat on the steps and rail tomeet him, saying, with a reproachful look, --"I wasn't going to let you be alone, and have folksthink I was ashamed of my father. Come, Daddy,we'll sit together."So Ben led his father straght to the Squire's pew,and sat beside him with a face so full of innocent prideand joy, that people would have suspected the truthif he had not already told many of them. Mr. Brown,painfully conscious of his shabby coat, was rather"taken aback," as he expressed it; but the Squire'sshake of the hand, and Mrs. Allen's gracious nodenabled him to face the eyes of the interestedcongregation, the younger portion of which stared steadilyat him all sermon time, in spite of paternal frownsand maternal tweakings in the rear.
 
　　But the crowning glory of the day came afterchurch, when the Squire said to Ben, and Sam heardhim, --"I've got a letter for you from Miss Celia. Comehome with me, and bring your father. I want to talkto him."The boy proudly escorted his parent to the oldcarry-all, and, tucking hiniself in behind with Mrs.
 
　　Allen, had the satisfaction of seeing the slouched felthat side by side with the Squire's Sunday beaver infront, as they drove off at such an unusually smartpace, it was evident that Duke knew there was acritical eye upon him. The interest taken in the fatherwas owing to the son at first; but, by the time thestory was told, old Ben had won friends for himselfnot only because of the misfortunes which he hadevidently borne in a manly way, but because of hisdelight in the boy's improvement, and the desire hefelt to turn his hand to any honest work, that he mightkeep Ben happy and contented in this good home.
 
　　"I'll give you a line to Towne. Smithers spokewell of you, and your own ability will be the bestrecommendation," said the Squire, as he parted fromthem at his door, having given Ben the letter.
 
　　Miss Celia had been gone a fortnight, and everyone was longing to have her back. The first weekbrought Ben a newspaper, with a crinkly line drawnround the marriages to attract attention to that spot,and one was marked by a black frame with a largehand pointing at it from the margin. Thorny sentthat; but the next week came a parcel for Mrs. Moss,and in it was discovered a box of wedding cake forevery member of the family, including Sancho, whoate his at one gulp, and chewed up the lace paperwhich covered it. This was the third week; and, asif there could not be happiness enough crowded intoit for Ben, the letter he read on his way home toldhim that his dear mistress was coming back on thefollowing Saturday. One passage particularly pleasedhim, --"I want the great gate opened, so that the newmaster may go in that way. Will you see that it isdone, and all made neat afterward? Randa will giveyou the key, and you may have out all your flags ifyou like, for the old place cannot look too gay forthis home-coming."Sunday though it was, Ben could not help wavingthe letter over his head as he ran in to tell Mrs. Mossthe glad news, and begin at once to plan the welcomethey would give Miss Celia, for he never called herany thing else.
 
　　During their afternoon stroll in the mellow sunshine,Ben continued to talk of her, never tired oftelling about his happy summer under her roof. AndMr. Brown was never weary of hearing, for every hourshowed him more plainly what a lovely miracle hergentle words had wrought, and every hour increasedhis gratitude, his desire to return the kindness insome humble way. He had his wish, and did hispart handsomely when he least expected to have achance.
 
　　On Monday he saw Mr. Towne, and, thanks to theSquire's good word, was engaged for a month ontrial, making himself so useful that it was soon evidenthe was the right man in the right place. He lived onthe hill, but managed to get down to the little brownhouse in the evening for a word with Ben, who justnow was as full of business as if the President andhis Cabinet were coming.
 
　　Every thing was put in apple-pie order in andabout the old house; the great gate, with much creakingof rusty hinges and some clearing away of rubbish,was set wide open, and the first creature who enteredit was Sancho, solemnly dragging the dead mulleinwhich long ago had grown above the keyhole. Octoberfrosts seemed to have spared some of thebrightest leaves for this especial occasion; and onSaturday the arched gate-way was hung with gaywreaths, red and yellow sprays strewed the flags, andthe porch was a blaze of color with the red woodbine,that was in its glory when the honeysuckle was leafless.
 
　　Fortunately it was a half-holiday, so the childrencould trim and chatter to their heart's content, andthe little girls ran about sticking funny decorationswhere no one would ever think of looking for them.
 
　　Ben was absorbed in his flags, which were sprinkledall down the avenue with a lavish display, suggestingseveral Fourth of Julys rolled into one. Mr. Brownhad come to lend a hand, and did so most energetically,for the break-neck things he did with his sonduring the decoration fever would have terrified Mrs.
 
　　Moss out of her wits, if she had not been in the housegiving last touches to every room, while Randa andKaty set forth a sumptuous tea.
 
　　All was going well, and the train would be due inan hour, when luckless Bab nearly turned the rejoicinginto mourning, the feast into ashes. She heardher mother say to Randa, "There ought to be a firein every room, it looks so cheerful, and the air ischilly spite of the sunshine;" and, never waiting tohear the reply that some of the long-unused chimneyswere not safe till cleaned, off went Bab with an apronfull of old shingles, and made a roaring blaze in thefront room fire-place, which was of all others theone to be let alone, as the flue was out of order.
 
　　Charmed with the brilliant light and the crackle ofthe tindery fuel, Miss Bab refilled her apron, and fedthe fire till the chimney began to rumble ominously,sparks to fly out at the top, and soot and swallows'
 
　　nests to come tumbling down upon the hearth. Then,scared at what she had done, the little mischief-makerhastily buried her fire, swept up the rubbish, and ranoff, thinking no one would discover her prank if shenever told.
 
　　Everybody was very busy, and the big chimneyblazed and rumbled unnoticed till the cloud of smokecaught Ben's eye as he festooned his last effort in theflag line, part of an old sheet with the words "Fatherhas come!" in red cambric letters half a foot longsewed upon it.
 
　　"Hullo ! I do believe they've got up a bonfire.
 
　　without asking my leave. Miss Celia never wouldlet us, because the sheds and roofs are so old anddry; I must see about it. Catch me, Daddy, I'mcoming down! " cried Ben, dropping out of the elmwith no more thought of where he might light than asquirrel swinging from bough to bough.
 
　　His father caught him, and followed in haste as hisnimble-footed son raced up the avenue, to stop in thegate-way, frightened at the prospect before him, forfalling sparks had already kindled the roof here andthere, and the chimney smoked and roared like asmall volcano, while Katy's wails and Randa's criesfor water came from within.
 
　　"Up there with wet blankets, while I get out thehose!" cried Mr. Brown, as he saw at a glance whatthe danger was.
 
　　Ben vanished; and, before his father got the gardenhose rigged, he was on the roof with a drippingblanket over the worst spot. Mrs. Moss had her witsabout her in a minute, and ran to put in the fireboard,and stop the draught. Then, stationing Randato watch that the falling cinders did no harm inside,she hurried off to help Mr. Brown, who might not knowwhere things were. But he had roughed it so long,that he was the man for emergencies, and seemed tolay his hand on whatever was needed, by a sort ofinstinct. Finding that the hose was too short toreach the upper part of the roof, he was on the roofin a jiffy with two pails of water, and quenched themost dangerous spots before much harm was done.
 
　　This he kept up till the chimney burned itself out,while Ben dodged about among the gables with awatering pot, lest some stray sparks should be over-looked, and break out afresh.
 
　　While they worked there, Betty ran to and fro witha dipper of water, trying to help; and Sancho barkedviolently, as if he objected to this sort of illumination.
 
　　But where was Bab, who revelled in flurries? Noone missed her till the fire was out, and the tired,sooty people met to talk over the danger just escaped.
 
　　"Poor Miss Celia wouldn't have had a roof overher head, if it hadn't been for you, Mr. Brown," saidMrs. Moss, sinking into a kitchen chair, pale with theexcitement.
 
　　"It would have burnt lively, but I guess it's allright now. Keep an eye on the roof, Ben, and I'llstep up garret and see if all's safe there. Didn't youknow that chininey was foul, ma'am?" asked theman, as he wiped the perspiration off his grimy face.
 
　　"Randa said it was, and I 'in surprised she made afire there," began Mrs. Moss, looking at the maid,who just then came in with a pan full of soot.
 
　　"Bless you, ma'am, I never thought of such athing, nor Katy neither. That naughty Bab musthave done it, and so don't dar'st to show herself,"answered the irate Randa, whose nice room was ina mess.
 
　　"Where is the child?" asked her mother; and ahunt was immediately instituted by Betty and Sancho,while the elders cleared up.
 
　　Anxious Betty searched high and low, called andcried, but all in vain; and was about to sit down indespair, when Sancho made a bolt into his newkennel and brought out a shoe with a foot in it whilea doleful squeal came from the straw within.
 
　　"Oh, Bab, how could you do it? Ma was frigheneddreadfully," said Betty, gently tugging at thestriped leg, as Sancho poked his head in for anothershoe.
 
　　"Is it all burnt up?" demanded a smothered voicefrom the recesses of the kennel.
 
　　"Only pieces of the roof. Ben and his father putit out, and I helped," answered Betty, cheering up alittle as she recalled her noble exertions.
 
　　"What do they do to folks who set houses afire?
 
　　asked the voice again.
 
　　"I don't know; but you needn't be afraid, theirisn't much harm done, I guess, and Miss Celia willforgive you, she's so good.""Thorny won't; he calls me a 'botheration,' and Iguess I am," mourned the unseen culprit, with sincerecontrition.
 
　　"I'll ask him; he is always good to me. Theywill be here pretty soon, so you'd better come outand be made tidy," suggested the comforter.
 
　　"I never can come out, for every one will hateme," sobbed Bab among the straw, as she pulled inher foot, as if retiring for ever from an outragedworld.
 
　　"Ma won't, she's too busy cleaning up; so it's agood time to come. Let's run home, wash our hands,and be all nice when they see us. I'll love you, nomatter what anybody else does," said Betty, consolingthe poor little sinner, and proposing the sort ofrepentance most likely to find favor in the eyes of theagitated elders.
 
　　"P'raps I'd better go home, for Sanch will wanthis bed," and Bab gladly availed herself of that excuseto back out of her refuge, a very crumpled, dustyyoung lady, with a dejected face and much strawsticking in her hair.
 
　　Betty led her sadly away, for she still protestedthat she never should dare to meet the offendedpublic again; but in fifteen minutes both appearedin fine order and good spirits, and naughty Babescaped a lecture for the time being, as the trainwould soon be due.
 
　　At the first sound of the car whistle every oneturned good-natured as if by magic, and flew to thegate smiling as if all mishaps were forgiven andforgotten. Mrs. Moss, however, slipped quietly away,and was the first to greet Mrs. Celia as the carriagestopped at the entrance of the avenue, so that theluggage might go in by way of the lodge.
 
　　"We will walk up and you shall tell us the news aswe go, for I see you have some," said the young lady,in her friendly manner, when Mrs. Moss had givenher welcome and paid her respects to the gentlemanwho shook hands in a way that convinced her he wasindeed what Thorny called him, "regularly jolly,"though he was a minister.
 
　　That being exactly what she came for, the goodwoman told her tidings as rapidly as possible, and thenew-comers were so glad to hear of Ben's happinessthey made very light of Bab's bonfire, though it hadnearly burnt their house down.
 
　　"We won't say a word about it, for every one mustbe happy to-day," said Mr. George, so kindly thatMrs. Moss felt a load taken off her heart at once.
 
　　"Bab was always teasing me for fireworks, but Iguess she has had enough for the present," laughedThorny, who was gallantly escorting Bab's mother upthe avenue.
 
　　"Every one is so kind! Teacher was out with thechildren to cheer us as we passed, and here you allare making things pretty for me," said Mrs. Celia,smiling with tears in her eyes, as they drew near thegreat gate, which certainly did present an animatedif not an imposing appearance.
 
　　Randa and Katy stood on one side, all in theirbest, bobbing delighted courtesies; Mr. Brown, halfhidden behind the gate on the other side, was keepingSancho erect, so that he might present arms promptlywhen the bride appeared. As flowers were scarce,on either post stood a rosy little girl clapping herhands, while out from the thicket of red and yellowboughs, which made a grand bouquet in the lanternframe, came Ben's head and shoulders, as he wavedhis grandest flag with its gold paper "WelcomeHome!" on a blue ground.
 
　　"Isn't it beautiful!" cried Mrs. Celia, throwingkisses to the children, shaking hands with her maids,and glancing brightly at the stranger who was keepingSanch quiet.
 
　　"Most people adorn their gate-posts with stoneballs, vases, or griffins; your living images are agreat improvement, love, especially the happy boyin the middle," said Mr. George, eying Ben withinterest, as he nearly tumbled overboard, top-heavywith his banner.
 
　　"You must finish what I have only begun," answeredCelia, adding gayly as Sancho broke loose and cameto offer both his paw and his congratulations. "Sanch,introduce your master, that I may thank him for comingback in time to save my old house.""If I'd saved a dozen it wouldn't have half paidfor all you've done for my boy, ma'am," answeredMr. Brown, bursting out from behind the gate quitered with gratitude and pleasure.
 
　　"I loved to do it, so please remember that thisis still his home till you make one for him. ThankGod, he is no longer fatherless!" and her sweet facesaid even more than her words as the white handcordially shook the brown one with a burn across theback.
 
　　"Come on, sister. I see the tea-table all ready, andI'm awfully hungry," interrupted Thorny, who hadnot a ray of sentiment about him, though very gladBen had got his father back again.
 
　　"Come over, by-and-by, little friends, and let methank you for your pretty welcome, -- it certainly isa warm one;" and Mrs. Celia glanced merrily fromthe three bright faces above her to the old chimney,which still smoked sullenly.
 
　　"Oh, don't!" cried Bab, hiding her face.
 
　　"She didn't mean to," added Betty, pleadingly.
 
　　"Three cheers for the bride!" roared Ben, dippinghis flag, as leaning on her husband's arm his dearmistress passed under the gay arch, along theleaf-strewn walk, over the threshold of the house whichwas to be her happy home for many years.
 
　　The closed gate where the lonely little wandereronce lay was always to stand open now, and the pathwhere children played before was free to all comers,for a hospitable welcome henceforth awaited rich andpoor, young and old, sad and gay, Under the Lilacs.
 
The End