Part 12 (1/2)

”I see. We are quite safe in your hands, little woman. You can do just as you and Mrs. Gwynne arrange.”

As the father watched the little, trim, st.u.r.dy figure stepping down the street he muttered to himself, ”That child grows more like her mother every day.” He heaved a great sigh from the depths of his heart. ”Well, G.o.d keep her, wise little woman that she is! I wish I were a wiser man.

I must be firm with her; it would be a shame to spoil her. Yes, I must be firm.” But he shrugged his shoulders and smiled at himself. ”The worst of it is, or the best of it is,” he continued, ”the little witch is almost always right, G.o.d bless her, just like her mother, just like her mother.” He hastily wiped his eyes, and went off to his office where Mrs. Dean awaited him and her little girl with the burned hand. And the mother wondered at the gentleness of him as he dressed the little girl's wounded hand.

It followed that the scouting party included not only Miss Hazel Sleighter, but also her big brother Tom, who, being temporarily in the high school, more perhaps because of his size and the maturity of his bearing than by virtue of his educational qualifications, was at the present moment most chiefly concerned in getting into form his baseball team for the match the following Sat.u.r.day in which the High School was to meet All Comers under eighteen. The freight shed being on his way to the practice ground, Tom deigned to join the party and to take in the circus car as he pa.s.sed. The car dwellers were discovered on the open prairie not far from the freight shed, keeping guard over Rosie, who was stretching her legs after her railway journey. The boys were tossing a baseball to each other as Tom pedalled up on his wheel.

”h.e.l.lo, there, here you are,” he shouted to Sam, holding up his hands for a catch.

The ball came with such impact that Tom was distinctly jarred, and dropped the ball. With all his force he threw the ball back to Sam, who caught it with the ease of a professional and returned it with such vigour that again Tom dropped it.

”Let's have a knock-up,” he said, hitting a long fly.

Sam flew after the ball with amazing swiftness, his scarecrow garments fluttering and flapping in the air, and caught it with an upward leap that landed him on his back breathless but triumphant.

”Say, you're a crackerjack,” said Tom; ”here's another.”

Meanwhile Larry was in the hands of his sisters, who had delightedly kissed him to his shamefaced chagrin, and introduced him to their new-found friends.

”So this is Larry.” said Miss Hazel Sleighter, greeting him with a dazzling smile. ”We have heard a lot about you. I think you must be quite wonderful. Come here, Tom, and meet your friends.”

Poor Larry! In the presence of this radiant creature and of her well-dressed brother, he felt terribly conscious of the shabbiness of the second best suit which his mother had thought good enough for the journey in the car. Tom glanced at the slight, poorly dressed, pale-faced lad who stood before him with an embarra.s.sed, almost a beseeching look in his eyes.

”Can you play ball?” asked Tom.

”Not much,” replied Larry; ”not like Sam. Come here, Sam,” he called, remembering that he had not introduced his friend. Sam shuffled over with an air of complete nonchalance.

”This is Sam,” said Larry. ”Sam--I have forgotten your name.”

”Nolan,” said Sam shortly.

”Miss Hazel Sleighter,” said Larry.

”How do you do, Miss Hazel,” said Sam, sweeping her an elaborate bow, and then gazing boldly into her eyes. ”I hope you're well. If you're as smart as you look, I guess you're way up in G.”

”I am quite well, thank you,” returned Miss Hazel, the angle of her chin indicating her most haughty air.

”Say, young lady, pa.s.s up the chilly stuff,” replied Sam with a laugh.

”It don't go with that mighty fine complexion of yours. Say, did you ever see the leading lady in 'The Spider's Web'? Well, you make me think of her, and she was a peacherino. Never seen her? No? Well, you ought to see her some day and think of me.”

Hazel turned a disgusted shoulder on Sam's impudent face and engaged Larry in vivacious conversation.

”Well, I am off to the ball practice,” said Tom. ”Got a match on Sat.u.r.day--High School against the world. Guess they would like to have you, Sam, only I wouldn't care to have you play against us. You don't play baseball, eh?” continued Tom, addressing Larry. ”What do you play--football?”

”Not much; never tried much,” said Larry, flus.h.i.+ng over his lack of sporting qualifications.

”He plays the fiddle,” said a quiet little voice.

Larry, flus.h.i.+ng violently, turned around and saw a little, brown-faced maid gazing thoughtfully at him.

”Oh, he does, eh? Ha, ha, ha. Good game, eh? Ha, ha, ha.” They all joined in the laugh.