Part 17 (2/2)

So Ruth politely thanked Mr. Bob Buckham and said they would drive to his house. So near was the farmhouse, indeed, that Tess and Dot begged to walk with the farmer and so be a.s.sured that Tom Jonah should have ”medical attention” immediately. Of course, the old dog would not leave the children to go with the strange man alone.

”We can open the gates, too, for Mr. Buckham,” said Tess.

”Run along, then, children,” the eldest sister said. ”We will soon drive over with the chestnuts.” Then she added rather sharply, but under her breath, to Agnes: ”I don't see what your objection is to going to Mr.

Buckham's house. I think he is a real nice old man.”

”Oh, I know he is,” wailed her sister. ”But you never stole his berries!”

”Aggie's conscience is troubling her,” chuckled Neale O'Neil. ”But don't you fret, Aggie. Old Bob Buckham won't know that _you_ were one of the raiders last May.”

”Of course he will. When he knows my name. Didn't he send my name to Mr.

Marks with the others?”

”Did he?” returned Neale. ”I wonder!”

CHAPTER X

SOMETHING ABOUT OLD TIMES

By the time Tess and Dot Kenway arrived at the rambling old farmhouse at Ipswitch Curve, where Mr. Buckham lived, they were as chatty and chummy with the man who had shot the eagle as though he were a life-long friend.

Without any doubt Mr. Bob Buckham loved children--little girls especially. And Mrs. Bob Buckham loved them, too.

There was a big-armed, broad-shouldered country girl in the wide, clean kitchen into which the children were first ushered. She was the maid-of-all-work, and she welcomed Tess and Dot kindly, if she did scold Mr. Buckham for tracking up her recently scrubbed floor with his muddy boots.

”Now, you jest hesh, Posy,” he told her, good-naturedly. ”You know you wouldn't have work enough to keep you interested, if 'twarn't for me.

Where's marm?”

”In the sittin' room, Mr. Buckham--and don't you darst to go in there without sc.r.a.pin' your feet. And _do_ put that nasty, great bird down outside.”

”Don't darst to,” said Mr. Buckham. ”The dogs'll tear it to pieces. I wanter fix this Tom Jonah's ear. He's a brave dog, Posy. If it hadn't been for him, I swow! Lycurgus Billet's Sue would have been kerried off by this old eagle,” and he told the wondering girl about the adventure.

”Now, you take these little gals in to marm, while I fix up Tom Jonah,”

Mr. Buckham urged.

So Tess and Dot were ushered into the sitting room by the big girl, Posy. Mrs. Buckham was not likely to be found anywhere but in her chair, poor woman, as the children very soon learned. She was a gentle, gray-haired, becapped old lady who never left her chair, saving for her bed at night. She was a paralytic and could not walk at all; but her fingers were busy, and she was fairly surrounded by bright colored worsteds and wools, finished pieces of knitting and crocheting, and incompleted work of like character.

Out of this hedge of bright-hued fancy-work, Mrs. Buckham smiled upon the smaller Corner House girls quite as warmly as did Mr. Buckham himself.

”I do declare! this is a pleasure,” she cried, drawing one little girl after the other to her to be kissed. ”Little flower faces! Aren't they, Posy? Wish I had a garden full o' them--that I do!”

”My mercy, Mrs. Buckham! I'm glad you ain't,” laughed the maid. ”Not if they all favored Mr. Buckham and brought as much mud in on their feet as he does.”

”Never mind, Posy,” cried the very jolly invalid. ”_I_ don't track up your clean floors--and that's a blessing, isn't it?”

Dot looked rather askance at the bright-colored afghan that hid the crippled legs of the good woman. The legs were so still, and the afghan covered them so completely, that to the little girl's mind it seemed as though she had no lower limbs at all!

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