Part 12 (1/2)
”You ain't got no fur on your cheeks yet,” said the blacksmith, laughing heartily at his own witticism. ”What have you got for dinner, mother?”
”It's a sort of picked-up dinner,” answered Mrs. Bickford. ”There's some pork and beans warmed up, some slapjacks from breakfast, and some fried sa.s.sidges.”
”Why, that's a dinner for a king,” said the blacksmith, rubbing his hands.
He took his seat, and put on a plate for Kit specimens of the delicacies mentioned above. In spite of his appet.i.te Kit partook sparingly, supplementing his meal with bread, which, being from the baker's shop, was of good quality. He congratulated himself that he was not to board permanently at Mr. Bickford's table.
When dinner was over, the blacksmith in a genial mood said to Kit: ”You needn't begin to work till to-morrow. You can tramp round the village if you want to.”
Kit was glad of the delay, as early the next morning he expected to bid farewell to Oakford, and thus would avoid a conflict.
He had been in Oakford before, and knew his way about. He went out of the yard and walked about in a leisurely way. It was early in June, and the country was at its best. The birds were singing, the fields were green with verdure, and Kit's spirits rose. He felt that it would be delightful to travel about the country, as he would do if he joined Barlow's Circus.
He overtook a boy somewhat larger than himself, a stout, strong country boy, attired in a rough, coa.r.s.e working suit. He was about to pa.s.s him, when the country boy called out, ”Hallo, you!”
”Were you speaking to me?” asked Kit, turning and looking back.
”Yes. Didn't I see you riding into town with Aaron Bickford?”
”Yes.”
”Are you going to work for him?”
”That is what he expects,” answered Kit diplomatically. He hesitated about confiding his plans to a stranger.
”Then I pity you.”
”Why?”
”I used to work for him.”
”Did you?”
”Yes, I stood it as long as I could.”
”Then you didn't like it?”
”I guess not.”
”What was the trouble?”
”Everything. He's a stingy old hunks, to begin with. I went to work for a dollar a week and board. If the board had been decent, it would have been something, but I'd as soon board at the poorhouse.”
”I have taken dinner there,” said Kit, smiling.
”Did you like it?”
”I have dined better. In fact I have seldom dined worse.”
”What did the old woman give you?”