Part 5 (1/2)

Then Gladys stepped boldly forward, and Snip whined and barked in a perfect spasm of fear at being carried so near the formidable-looking animal.

”Now, you are just as foolish as your master,” Gladys said with a hearty laugh; but she allowed the dog to slip down from her arms, and as he sought safety behind his master, she unloosened the chain from the cow's neck, leading her by the horn out of the barn.

Then it was that Snip plucked up courage to join the girl who had been so kind to him, and Seth, thoroughly ashamed at having betrayed so much cowardice, followed his example.

”I want to do something toward paying for my breakfast,” he said hesitatingly; ”but I never saw a cow before, and that one acted as if he was up to mischief. I s'pose they're a good deal like dogs--all right after a feller gets acquainted with 'em.”

”Some cows are ugly, I suppose,” Gladys replied reflectively, taking Snip once more in her arms as the little fellow hung back in alarm when White-Face stopped to gather a tempting bunch of clover; ”but Aunt Hannah has had this one ever since she was a calf, and we two are great friends. She's a real well-behaved cow, an' never makes any trouble about going into pasture. There, she's in now, and all we've got to do is to put up the bars. By the time we get back breakfast will be ready. Did you walk all the way from the city?”

There was no necessity for Seth to make a reply, because at this instant an audacious wren flew past within a dozen inches of Snip's nose, causing him to spring from the girl's arms in a vain pursuit, which was not ended until the children were at the kitchen door.

The morning meal was prepared, and as Gladys drew out a chair to show Seth where he should sit, Aunt Hannah asked anxiously:

”What does the dog do while you are eating?”

”You'll see how well he can behave himself,” Snip's master replied proudly, as the little fellow laid down on the floor at a respectful distance from the table.

Much to Seth's surprise, instead of immediately beginning the meal, the little woman bowed her head reverentially, Gladys following the example, and for the first time in his life did the boy hear a blessing invoked upon the food of which he was about to partake.

It caused him just a shade of uneasiness and perhaps awe, this ”prayin' before breakfast” as he afterward expressed it while going over the events of the day with Snip, and he did not feel wholly at ease until the meal had well nigh come to an end.

Then the little woman gave free rein to her curiosity, by asking:

”Where are you going, my boy?”

”That's what I don't just know,” Seth replied, after a short pause.

”Pip Smith, he said the country was a terrible nice place to live in, an' when Snip an' I had to come away, I thought perhaps we could find a chance to earn some money.”

”Haven't you any parents, or a home?” Aunt Hannah asked in surprise.

”I don't s'pose I have. I did live over to Mr. Genet's in Jersey City; but he died, an' I had to hustle for myself.”

”Had to what?” Aunt Hannah asked.

”Why, s.h.i.+nny 'round for money enough to pay my way. There ain't much of anything a feller like me can do but sell papers, an' I don't cut any big ice at that, 'cause I can't get 'round as fast as the other boys.”

”Did you earn enough to provide you with food, and clothes, an' a place to sleep?”

”Well, sometimes. You see I ain't flas.h.i.+n' up very strong on clothes, an' Snip an' I had a room down to Mother Hyde's that cost us eighty cents a week. We could most always get along, except sometimes when there was a heavy storm an' trade turned bad.”

”I suppose you became discouraged with that way of living?” the little woman said reflectively.

”Well, it ain't so awful swell; but then you can't call it so terrible bad. Perhaps some time I could have got money enough to start a news-stand, an' then I'd been all right, you know.”

”Why did you come into the country?”

”You see we had to leave mighty sudden, 'cause----”

Seth checked himself; he had been very near to explaining exactly why he left New York so unceremoniously. Perhaps but for the ”prayers before breakfast” he might have told this kindly faced little woman all his troubles; now, however, he did not care to do so, believing she would consider he had committed a great crime in pa.s.sing a lead nickel, even though unwittingly.

Neither was he willing to tell so good a woman an absolute untruth, and therefore held his peace; but the flush which had come into his cheeks was ample proof to his hostess that in his life was something which caused shame.