Part 4 (1/2)
The little woman hovered helplessly around much like a sparrow whose fledglings are in danger. She feared lest the dog should do the child a mischief, and yet dared not come so near as to rescue her from the imaginary danger.
There was just a tinge of jealousy in Seth's heart as he gazed at Snip's demonstrations of affection for this stranger. It seemed as if he had suddenly lost his only friend, and, at that moment, it was the greatest misfortune that could befall him.
Gladys was so occupied with the dog as to be unconscious of Aunt Hannah's anxiety. She admired Snip's silky hair; declared that he needed a bath, and insisted on knowing how ”such a treasure” had come into Seth's possession.
The boy was not disposed to admit that he had no real claim upon the dog, save such as might result from having found him homeless and friendless in the street; but willing that the girl should admire his pet yet more.
”Put him on the floor an' see how much he knows,” Seth said, without replying to her question.
Then Snip was called upon to show his varied accomplishments. He sat bolt upright holding a wisp of straw in his mouth; walked on his hind feet with Seth holding him by one paw; whirled around and around on being told to dance; leaped over the handle of the hay-fork, barking and yelping with excitement; and otherwise gave token of being very intelligent.
Gladys was in an ecstasy of delight, and even the little woman so far overcame her fear of animals as to venture to touch Snip's outstretched paw when he gravely offered to ”shake hands.”
Not until at least a quarter of an hour had pa.s.sed was any particular attention paid to Seth, and by this time Aunt Hannah was willing to admit that while dogs in general frightened her, however peaceable they appeared to be, she thought a little fellow like Snip might be almost as companionable as a cat.
”Of course you won't continue your journey until after breakfast,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, ”and Gladys will take you into the kitchen where you can wash your face and hands, while I am milking.”
Then it was that Seth observed a bright tin pail and a three-legged stool lying on the ground just outside the big door, as if they had fallen from the little woman's hands when she was alarmed by hearing Snip's note of defiance and warning.
Gladys had the dog in her arms, and nodding to Seth as if to say he should follow, she led the way to the house, while Aunt Hannah disappeared through a doorway opening from the main portion of the barn.
”There's the towel, the soap and water,” she said, pointing toward a wooden sink in one corner of what was to Seth the most wonderful kitchen he had ever seen. ”Don't you think Snippey would like some milk?”
”I'm certain he would,” Seth replied promptly. ”He hasn't had anything except dry ginger cake since yesterday mornin'.”
A moment later Master Snip had before him a saucer filled with such milk as it is safe to say he had not seen since Seth took him in charge, and the eager way in which he lapped it showed that it was appreciated fully.
The fugitive did not make his toilet immediately, because of the irresistible temptation to gaze about him.
The walls of the kitchen were low; but in the newcomer's eyes this was an added attraction, because it gave to the room such an hospitable appearance. The floor was more cleanly than any table he had ever seen; the bricks of the fireplace, at one side of which stood a small cook-stove, were as red as if newly painted; while on the dresser and the mantel across the broad chimney were tin dishes that shone like newly polished silver.
A large rocking-chair, a couch covered with chintz, and half a dozen straight-backed, spider-legged chairs were ranged methodically along the sides of the room, while in the centre of the floor, so placed that the fresh morning breeze which entered by the door would blow straight across it to the window shaded by lilac bushes, was a table covered with a snowy cloth.
”Well, if this is a farmer's house I wouldn't wonder if a good bit of Pip Smith's yarn was true,” Seth muttered to himself, as he turned toward the sink, over which hung a towel so white that he could hardly believe he would be allowed to dry his face and hands with it.
He was alone in the kitchen. Snip, having had a most satisfactory breakfast of what he must have believed was real cream, had run out of doors to chase a leaf blown by the wind, and Gladys was close behind, alternately urging him in the pursuit, and showering praises upon ”the sweetest dog that ever lived.”
”Folks that live like this must be mighty rich,” Seth thought, as he plunged his face into a basin of clear water. ”It ain't likely Snip an' me will strike it so soft again, an' I expect he'll be terrible sorry to leave. I reckon it'll be all right to hang 'round an hour or so, an' then we must get out lively. I wonder if that little bit of a woman expects I'll pay for breakfast?”
CHAPTER III.
AUNT HANNAH.
WITH a broken comb, which he used upon Snip's hair as well as his own, Seth concluded his toilet, and, neither the little woman nor the girl having returned to the house, stood in the doorway gazing out upon as peaceful a scene as a boy pursued by the officers of the law could well desire to see.
On either hand ran the dusty road, not unlike a yellow ribbon upon a cloth of green, and bordering it here and there were clumps of bushes or groves of pine or of oak, as if planted for the especial purpose of affording to the weary traveller a screen from the blinding sun.
The little farmhouse stood upon the height of a slight elevation from which could be had a view of the country round about on either hand; and although so near to the great city, there were no settlements, villages, or towns to be seen.