الفصل الفصل 10 · HOME AGAIN

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Chapter 10. HOME AGAIN

July had come, and haying begun; the little gardens were doing finely

and the long summer days were full of pleasant hours. The house stood

open from morning till night, and the lads lived out of doors, except at

school time. The lessons were short, and there were many holidays, for

the Bhaers believed in cultivating healthy bodies by much exercise,

and our short summers are best used in out-of-door work. Such a rosy,

sunburnt, hearty set as the boys became; such appetites as they had;

such sturdy arms and legs, as outgrew jackets and trousers; such

laughing and racing all over the place; such antics in house and barn;

such adventures in the tramps over hill and dale; and such satisfaction

in the hearts of the worthy Bhaers, as they saw their flock prospering

in mind and body, I cannot begin to describe. Only one thing was needed

to make them quite happy, and it came when they least expected it.

One balmy night when the little lads were in bed, the elder ones bathing

down at the brook, and Mrs. Bhaer undressing Teddy in her parlor, he

suddenly cried out, “Oh, my Danny!” and pointed to the window, where the

moon shone brightly.

“No, lovey, he is not there, it was the pretty moon,” said his mother.

“No, no, Danny at a window; Teddy saw him,” persisted baby, much

excited.

“It might have been,” and Mrs. Bhaer hurried to the window, hoping it

would prove true. But the face was gone, and nowhere appeared any signs

of a mortal boy; she called his name, ran to the front door with Teddy

in his little shirt, and made him call too, thinking the baby voice

might have more effect than her own. No one answered, nothing appeared,

and they went back much disappointed. Teddy would not be satisfied with

the moon, and after he was in his crib kept popping up his head to ask

if Danny was not “tummin' soon.”

By and by he fell asleep, the lads trooped up to bed, the house grew

still, and nothing but the chirp of the crickets broke the soft silence

of the summer night. Mrs. Bhaer sat sewing, for the big basket was

always piled with socks, full of portentous holes, and thinking of the

lost boy. She had decided that baby had been mistaken, and did not even

disturb Mr. Bhaer by telling him of the child's fancy, for the poor

man got little time to himself till the boys were abed, and he was busy

writing letters. It was past ten when she rose to shut up the house. As

she paused a minute to enjoy the lovely scene from the steps, something

white caught her eye on one of the hay-cocks scattered over the lawn.

The children had been playing there all the afternoon, and, fancying

that Nan had left her hat as usual, Mrs. Bhaer went out to get it. But

as she approached, she saw that it was neither hat nor handkerchief, but

a shirt sleeve with a brown hand sticking out of it. She hurried round

the hay-cock, and there lay Dan, fast asleep.

Ragged, dirty, thin, and worn-out he looked; one foot was bare, the

other tied up in the old gingham jacket which he had taken from his own

back to use as a clumsy bandage for some hurt. He seemed to have hidden

himself behind the hay-cock, but in his sleep had thrown out the arm

that had betrayed him. He sighed and muttered as if his dreams disturbed

him, and once when he moved, he groaned as if in pain, but still slept

on quite spent with weariness.

“He must not lie here,” said Mrs. Bhaer, and stooping over him she

gently called his name. He opened his eyes and looked at her, as if she

was a part of his dream, for he smiled and said drowsily, “Mother Bhaer,

I've come home.”

The look, the words, touched her very much, and she put her hand under

his head to lift him up, saying in her cordial way,

“I thought you would, and I'm so glad to see you, Dan.” He seemed to

wake thoroughly then, and started up looking about him as if he suddenly

remembered where he was, and doubted even that kind welcome. His face

changed, and he said in his old rough way,

“I was going off in the morning. I only stopped to peek in, as I went

by.”

“But why not come in, Dan? Didn't you hear us call you? Teddy saw, and

cried for you.”

“Didn't suppose you'd let me in,” he said, fumbling with a little bundle

which he had taken up as if going immediately.

“Try and see,” was all Mrs. Bhaer answered, holding out her hand and

pointing to the door, where the light shone hospitably.

With a long breath, as if a load was off his mind, Dan took up a stout

stick, and began to limp towards the house, but stopped suddenly, to say

inquiringly,

“Mr. Bhaer won't like it. I ran away from Page.”

“He knows it, and was sorry, but it will make no difference. Are you

lame?” asked Mrs. Jo, as he limped on again.

“Getting over a wall a stone fell on my foot and smashed it. I don't

mind,” and he did his best to hide the pain each step cost him.

Mrs. Bhaer helped him into her own room, and, once there, he dropped

into a chair, and laid his head back, white and faint with weariness and

suffering.

“My poor Dan! drink this, and then eat a little; you are at home now,

and Mother Bhaer will take good care of you.”

He only looked up at her with eyes full of gratitude, as he drank the

wine she held to his lips, and then began slowly to eat the food she

brought him. Each mouthful seemed to put heart into him, and presently

he began to talk as if anxious to have her know all about him.

“Where have you been, Dan?” she asked, beginning to get out some

bandages.

“I ran off more'n a month ago. Page was good enough, but too strict. I

didn't like it, so I cut away down the river with a man who was going in

his boat. That's why they couldn't tell where I'd gone. When I left the

man, I worked for a couple of weeks with a farmer, but I thrashed his

boy, and then the old man thrashed me, and I ran off again and walked

here.”

“All the way?”

“Yes, the man didn't pay me, and I wouldn't ask for it. Took it out in

beating the boy,” and Dan laughed, yet looked ashamed, as he glanced at

his ragged clothes and dirty hands.

“How did you live? It was a long, long tramp for a boy like you.”

“Oh, I got on well enough, till I hurt my foot. Folks gave me things to

eat, and I slept in barns and tramped by day. I got lost trying to make

a short cut, or I'd have been here sooner.”

“But if you did not mean to come in and stay with us, what were you

going to do?”

“I thought I'd like to see Teddy again, and you; and then I was going

back to my old work in the city, only I was so tired I went to sleep on

the hay. I'd have been gone in the morning, if you hadn't found me.”

“Are you sorry I did?” and Mrs. Jo looked at him with a half merry, half

reproachful look, as she knelt down to look at his wounded foot.

The color came up into Dan's face, and he kept his eyes fixed on his

plate, as he said very low, “No, ma'am, I'm glad, I wanted to stay, but

I was afraid you—”

He did not finish, for Mrs. Bhaer interrupted him by an exclamation of

pity, as she saw his foot, for it was seriously hurt.

“When did you do it?”

“Three days ago.”

“And you have walked on it in this state?”

“I had a stick, and I washed it at every brook I came to, and one woman

gave me a rag to put on it.”

“Mr. Bhaer must see and dress it at once,” and Mrs. Jo hastened into the

next room, leaving the door ajar behind her, so that Dan heard all that

passed.

“Fritz, the boy has come back.”

“Who? Dan?”

“Yes, Teddy saw him at the window, and he called to him, but he went

away and hid behind the hay-cocks on the lawn. I found him there just

now fast asleep, and half dead with weariness and pain. He ran away

from Page a month ago, and has been making his way to us ever since. He

pretends that he did not mean to let us see him, but go on to the city,

and his old work, after a look at us. It is evident, however, that the

hope of being taken in has led him here through every thing, and there

he is waiting to know if you will forgive and take him back.”

“Did he say so?”

“His eyes did, and when I waked him, he said, like a lost child, 'Mother

Bhaer, I've come home.' I hadn't the heart to scold him, and just took

him in like a poor little black sheep come back to the fold. I may keep

him, Fritz?”

“Of course you may! This proves to me that we have a hold on the boy's

heart, and I would no more send him away now than I would my own Rob.”

Dan heard a soft little sound, as if Mrs. Jo thanked her husband without

words, and, in the instant's silence that followed, two great tears that

had slowly gathered in the boy's eyes brimmed over and rolled down his

dusty cheeks. No one saw them, for he brushed them hastily away; but

in that little pause I think Dan's old distrust for these good people

vanished for ever, the soft spot in his heart was touched, and he felt

an impetuous desire to prove himself worthy of the love and pity that

was so patient and forgiving. He said nothing, he only wished the wish

with all his might, resolved to try in his blind boyish way, and

sealed his resolution with the tears which neither pain, fatigue, nor

loneliness could wring from him.

“Come and see his foot. I am afraid it is badly hurt, for he has kept

on three days through heat and dust, with nothing but water and an old

jacket to bind it up with. I tell you, Fritz, that boy is a brave lad,

and will make a fine man yet.”

“I hope so, for your sake, enthusiastic woman, your faith deserves

success. Now, I will go and see your little Spartan. Where is he?”

“In my room; but, dear, you'll be very kind to him, no matter how

gruff he seems. I am sure that is the way to conquer him. He won't bear

sternness nor much restraint, but a soft word and infinite patience will

lead him as it used to lead me.”

“As if you ever were like this little rascal!” cried Mr. Bhaer,

laughing, yet half angry at the idea.

“I was in spirit, though I showed it in a different way. I seem to know

by instinct how he feels, to understand what will win and touch him, and

to sympathize with his temptations and faults. I am glad I do, for it

will help me to help him; and if I can make a good man of this wild boy,

it will be the best work of my life.”

“God bless the work, and help the worker!”

Mr. Bhaer spoke now as earnestly as she had done, and both came in

together to find Dan's head down upon his arm, as if he was quite

overcome by sleep. But he looked up quickly, and tried to rise as Mr.

Bhaer said pleasantly,

“So you like Plumfield better than Page's farm. Well, let us see if we

can get on more comfortably this time than we did before.”

“Thanky, sir,” said Dan, trying not to be gruff, and finding it easier

than he expected.

“Now, the foot! Ach! this is not well. We must have Dr. Firth to-morrow.

Warm water, Jo, and old linen.”

Mr. Bhaer bathed and bound up the wounded foot, while Mrs. Jo prepared

the only empty bed in the house. It was in the little guest-chamber

leading from the parlor, and often used when the lads were poorly, for

it saved Mrs. Jo from running up and down, and the invalids could see

what was going on. When it was ready, Mr. Bhaer took the boy in his

arms, and carried him in, helped him undress, laid him on the little

white bed, and left him with another hand-shake, and a fatherly

“Good-night, my son.”

Dan dropped asleep at once, and slept heavily for several hours; then

his foot began to throb and ache, and he awoke to toss about uneasily,

trying not to groan lest any one should hear him, for he was a brave

lad, and did bear pain like “a little Spartan,” as Mr. Bhaer called him.

Mrs. Jo had a way of flitting about the house at night, to shut the

windows if the wind grew chilly, to draw mosquito curtains over Teddy,

or look after Tommy, who occasionally walked in his sleep. The least

noise waked her, and as she often heard imaginary robbers, cats, and

conflagrations, the doors stood open all about, so her quick ear caught

the sound of Dan's little moans, and she was up in a minute. He was just

giving his hot pillow a despairing thump when a light came glimmering

through the hall, and Mrs. Jo crept in, looking like a droll ghost,

with her hair in a great knob on the top of her head, and a long gray

dressing-gown trailing behind her.

“Are you in pain, Dan?”

“It's pretty bad; but I didn't mean to wake you.”

“I'm a sort of owl, always flying about at night. Yes, your foot is like

fire; the bandages must be wet again,” and away flapped the maternal owl

for more cooling stuff, and a great mug of ice water.

“Oh, that's so nice!” sighed Dan, the wet bandages went on again, and a

long draught of water cooled his thirsty throat.

“There, now, sleep your best, and don't be frightened if you see me

again, for I'll slip down by and by, and give you another sprinkle.”

As she spoke, Mrs. Jo stooped to turn the pillow and smooth the

bed-clothes, when, to her great surprise, Dan put his arm around her

neck, drew her face down to his, and kissed her, with a broken “Thank

you, ma'am,” which said more than the most eloquent speech could have

done; for the hasty kiss, the muttered words, meant, “I'm sorry, I will

try.” She understood it, accepted the unspoken confession, and did not

spoil it by any token of surprise. She only remembered that he had no

mother, kissed the brown cheek half hidden on the pillow, as if ashamed

of the little touch of tenderness, and left him, saying, what he long

remembered, “You are my boy now, and if you choose you can make me proud

and glad to say so.”

Once again, just at dawn, she stole down to find him so fast asleep

that he did not wake, and showed no sign of consciousness as she wet his

foot, except that the lines of pain smoothed themselves away, and left

his face quite peaceful.

The day was Sunday, and the house so still that he never waked till near

noon, and, looking round him, saw an eager little face peering in at

the door. He held out his arms, and Teddy tore across the room to cast

himself bodily upon the bed, shouting, “My Danny's tum!” as he hugged

and wriggled with delight. Mrs. Bhaer appeared next, bringing breakfast,

and never seeming to see how shamefaced Dan looked at the memory of the

little scene last night. Teddy insisted on giving him his “betfus,” and

fed him like a baby, which, as he was not very hungry, Dan enjoyed very

much.

Then came the doctor, and the poor Spartan had a bad time of it, for

some of the little bones in his foot were injured, and putting them to

rights was such a painful job, that Dan's lips were white, and great

drops stood on his forehead, though he never cried out, and only held

Mrs. Jo's hand so tight that it was red long afterwards.

“You must keep this boy quiet, for a week at least, and not let him put

his foot to the ground. By that time, I shall know whether he may hop a

little with a crutch, or stick to his bed for a while longer,” said Dr.

Firth, putting up the shining instruments that Dan did not like to see.

“It will get well sometime, won't it?” he asked, looking alarmed at the

word “crutches.”

“I hope so;” and with that the doctor departed, leaving Dan much

depressed; for the loss of a foot is a dreadful calamity to an active

boy.

“Don't be troubled, I am a famous nurse, and we will have you tramping

about as well as ever in a month,” said Mrs. Jo, taking a hopeful view

of the case.

But the fear of being lame haunted Dan, and even Teddy's caresses did

not cheer him; so Mrs. Jo proposed that one or two of the boys should

come in and pay him a little visit, and asked whom he would like to see.

“Nat and Demi; I'd like my hat too, there's something in it I guess

they'd like to see. I suppose you threw away my bundle of plunder?” said

Dan, looking rather anxious as he put the question.

“No, I kept it, for I thought they must be treasures of some kind, you

took such care of them;” and Mrs. Jo brought him his old straw hat

stuck full of butterflies and beetles, and a handkerchief containing a

collection of odd things picked up on his way: birds' eggs, carefully

done up in moss, curious shells and stones, bits of fungus, and several

little crabs, in a state of great indignation at their imprisonment.

“Could I have something to put these fellers in? Mr. Hyde and I found

'em, and they are first-rate ones, so I'd like to keep and watch 'em;

can I?” asked Dan, forgetting his foot, and laughing to see the crabs go

sidling and backing over the bed.

“Of course you can; Polly's old cage will be just the thing. Don't let

them nip Teddy's toes while I get it;” and away went Mrs. Jo, leaving

Dan overjoyed to find that his treasures were not considered rubbish,

and thrown away.

Nat, Demi, and the cage arrived together, and the crabs were settled

in their new house, to the great delight of the boys, who, in the

excitement of the performance, forgot any awkwardness they might

otherwise have felt in greeting the runaway. To these admiring listeners

Dan related his adventures much more fully than he had done to the

Bhaers. Then he displayed his “plunder,” and described each article so

well, that Mrs. Jo, who had retired to the next room to leave them

free, was surprised and interested, as well as amused, at their boyish

chatter.

“How much the lad knows of these things! how absorbed he is in them! and

what a mercy it is just now, for he cares so little for books, it would

be hard to amuse him while he is laid up; but the boys can supply him

with beetles and stones to any extent, and I am glad to find out this

taste of his; it is a good one, and may perhaps prove the making of him.

If he should turn out a great naturalist, and Nat a musician, I should

have cause to be proud of this year's work;” and Mrs. Jo sat smiling

over her book as she built castles in the air, just as she used to do

when a girl, only then they were for herself, and now they were for

other people, which is the reason perhaps that some of them came to

pass in reality for charity is an excellent foundation to build anything

upon.

Nat was most interested in the adventures, but Demi enjoyed the beetles

and butterflies immensely, drinking in the history of their changeful

little lives as if it were a new and lovely sort of fairy tale for, even

in his plain way, Dan told it well, and found great satisfaction in the

thought that here at least the small philosopher could learn of him. So

interested were they in the account of catching a musk rat, whose skin

was among the treasures, that Mr. Bhaer had to come himself to tell Nat

and Demi it was time for the walk. Dan looked so wistfully after them as

they ran off that Father Bhaer proposed carrying him to the sofa in the

parlor for a little change of air and scene.

When he was established, and the house quiet, Mrs. Jo, who sat near

by showing Teddy pictures, said, in an interested tone, as she nodded

towards the treasures still in Dan's hands,

“Where did you learn so much about these things?”

“I always liked 'em, but didn't know much till Mr. Hyde told me.”

“Oh, he was a man who lived round in the woods studying these things I

don't know what you call him and wrote about frogs, and fishes, and so

on. He stayed at Page's, and used to want me to go and help him, and it

was great fun, 'cause he told me ever so much, and was uncommon jolly

and wise. Hope I'll see him again sometime.”

“I hope you will,” said Mrs. Jo, for Dan's face had brightened up, and

he was so interested in the matter that he forgot his usual taciturnity.

“Why, he could make birds come to him, and rabbits and squirrels didn't

mind him any more than if he was a tree. Did you ever tickle a lizard

with a straw?” asked Dan, eagerly.

“No, but I should like to try it.”

“Well, I've done it, and it's so funny to see 'em turn over and stretch

out, they like it so much. Mr. Hyde used to do it; and he'd make snakes

listen to him while he whistled, and he knew just when certain flowers

would blow, and bees wouldn't sting him, and he'd tell the wonderfullest

things about fish and flies, and the Indians and the rocks.”

“I think you were so fond of going with Mr. Hyde, you rather neglected

Mr. Page,” said Mrs. Jo, slyly.

“Yes, I did; I hated to have to weed and hoe when I might be tramping

round with Mr. Hyde. Page thought such things silly, and called Mr. Hyde

crazy because he'd lay hours watching a trout or a bird.”

“Suppose you say lie instead of lay, it is better grammar,” said Mrs.

Jo, very gently; and then added, “Yes, Page is a thorough farmer, and

would not understand that a naturalist's work was just as interesting,

and perhaps just as important as his own. Now, Dan, if you really love

these things, as I think you do, and I am glad to see it, you shall have

time to study them and books to help you; but I want you to do something

besides, and to do it faithfully, else you will be sorry by and by, and

find that you have got to begin again.”

“Yes, ma'am,” said Dan, meekly, and looked a little scared by the

serious tone of the last remarks, for he hated books, yet had evidently

made up his mind to study anything she proposed.

“Do you see that cabinet with twelve drawers in it?” was the next very

unexpected question.

Dan did see two tall old-fashioned ones standing on either side of the

piano; he knew them well, and had often seen nice bits of string, nails,

brown paper, and such useful matters come out of the various drawers. He

nodded and smiled. Mrs. Jo went on,

“Well, don't you think those drawers would be good places to put your

eggs, and stones, and shells, and lichens?”

“Oh, splendid, but you wouldn't like my things 'clutterin' round,' as

Mr. Page used to say, would you?” cried Dan, sitting up to survey the

old piece of furniture with sparkling eyes.

“I like litter of that sort; and if I didn't, I should give you the

drawers, because I have a regard for children's little treasures, and

I think they should be treated respectfully. Now, I am going to make a

bargain with you, Dan, and I hope you will keep it honorably. Here are

twelve good-sized drawers, one for each month of the year, and they

shall be yours as fast as you earn them, by doing the little duties that

belong to you. I believe in rewards of a certain kind, especially for

young folks; they help us along, and though we may begin by being good

for the sake of the reward, if it is rightly used, we shall soon learn

to love goodness for itself.”

“Do you have 'em?” asked Dan, looking as if this was new talk for him.

“Yes, indeed! I haven't learnt to get on without them yet. My rewards

are not drawers, or presents, or holidays, but they are things which I

like as much as you do the others. The good behavior and success of my

boys is one of the rewards I love best, and I work for it as I want you

to work for your cabinet. Do what you dislike, and do it well, and

you get two rewards, one, the prize you see and hold; the other, the

satisfaction of a duty cheerfully performed. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“We all need these little helps; so you shall try to do your lessons and

your work, play kindly with all the boys, and use your holidays well;

and if you bring me a good report, or if I see and know it without words

for I'm quick to spy out the good little efforts of my boys you shall

have a compartment in the drawer for your treasures. See, some are

already divided into four parts, and I will have the others made in

the same way, a place for each week; and when the drawer is filled

with curious and pretty things, I shall be as proud of it as you are;

prouder, I think for in the pebbles, mosses, and gay butterflies, I

shall see good resolutions carried out, conquered faults, and a promise

well kept. Shall we do this, Dan?”

The boys answered with one of the looks which said much, for it showed

that he felt and understood her wish and words, although he did not know

how to express his interest and gratitude for such care and kindness.

She understood the look, and seeing by the color that flushed up to his

forehead that he was touched, as she wished him to be, she said no more

about that side of the new plan, but pulled out the upper drawer, dusted

it, and set it on two chairs before the sofa, saying briskly,

“Now, let us begin at once by putting those nice beetles in a safe

place. These compartments will hold a good deal, you see. I'd pin the

butterflies and bugs round the sides; they will be quite safe there, and

leave room for the heavy things below. I'll give you some cotton wool,

and clean paper and pins, and you can get ready for the week's work.”

“But I can't go out to find any new things,” said Dan, looking piteously

at his foot.

“That's true; never mind, we'll let these treasures do for this week,

and I dare say the boys will bring you loads of things if you ask them.”

“They don't know the right sort; besides, if I lay, no, lie here all the

time, I can't work and study, and earn my drawers.”

“There are plenty of lessons you can learn lying there, and several

little jobs of work you can do for me.”

“Can I?” and Dan looked both surprised and pleased.

“You can learn to be patient and cheerful in spite of pain and no play.

You can amuse Teddy for me, wind cotton, read to me when I sew, and do

many things without hurting your foot, which will make the days pass

quickly, and not be wasted ones.”

Here Demi ran in with a great butterfly in one hand, and a very ugly

little toad in the other.

“See, Dan, I found them, and ran back to give them to you; aren't they

beautiful ones?” panted Demi, all out of breath.

Dan laughed at the toad, and said he had no place to put him, but the

butterfly was a beauty, and if Mrs. Jo would give him a big pin, he

would stick it right up in the drawer.

“I don't like to see the poor thing struggle on a pin; if it must be

killed, let us put it out of pain at once with a drop of camphor,” said

Mrs. Jo, getting out the bottle.

“I know how to do it Mr. Hyde always killed 'em that way but I didn't

have any camphor, so I use a pin,” and Dan gently poured a drop on the

insect's head, when the pale green wings fluttered an instant, and then

grew still.

This dainty little execution was hardly over when Teddy shouted from the

bedroom, “Oh, the little trabs are out, and the big one's eaten 'em

all up.” Demi and his aunt ran to the rescue, and found Teddy dancing

excitedly in a chair, while two little crabs were scuttling about the

floor, having got through the wires of the cage. A third was clinging to

the top of the cage, evidently in terror of his life, for below appeared

a sad yet funny sight. The big crab had wedged himself into the little

recess where Polly's cup used to stand, and there he sat eating one of

his relations in the coolest way. All the claws of the poor victim were

pulled off, and he was turned upside down, his upper shell held in

one claw close under the mouth of the big crab like a dish, while he

leisurely ate out of it with the other claw, pausing now and then to

turn his queer bulging eyes from side to side, and to put out a slender

tongue and lick them in a way that made the children scream with

laughter. Mrs. Jo carried the cage in for Dan to see the sight, while

Demi caught and confined the wanderers under an inverted wash-bowl.

“I'll have to let these fellers go, for I can't keep 'em in the house,”

said Dan, with evident regret.

“I'll take care of them for you, if you will tell me how, and they can

live in my turtle-tank just as well as not,” said Demi, who found them

more interesting even that his beloved slow turtles. So Dan gave him

directions about the wants and habits of the crabs, and Demi bore them

away to introduce them to their new home and neighbors. “What a good

boy he is!” said Dan, carefully settling the first butterfly, and

remembering that Demi had given up his walk to bring it to him.

“He ought to be, for a great deal has been done to make him so.”

“He's had folks to tell him things, and to help him; I haven't,” said

Dan, with a sigh, thinking of his neglected childhood, a thing he seldom

did, and feeling as if he had not had fair play somehow.

“I know it, dear, and for that reason I don't expect as much from you as

from Demi, though he is younger; you shall have all the help that we can

give you now, and I hope to teach you how to help yourself in the best

way. Have you forgotten what Father Bhaer told you when you were here

before, about wanting to be good, and asking God to help you?”

“No, ma'am,” very low.

“Do you try that way still?”

“No, ma'am,” lower still.

“Will you do it every night to please me?”

“Yes, ma'am,” very soberly.

“I shall depend on it, and I think I shall know if you are faithful

to your promise, for these things always show to people who believe in

them, though not a word is said. Now here is a pleasant story about a

boy who hurt his foot worse than you did yours; read it, and see how

bravely he bore his troubles.”

She put that charming little book, “The Crofton Boys,” into his hands,

and left him for an hour, passing in and out from time to time that

he might not feel lonely. Dan did not love to read, but soon got so

interested that he was surprised when the boys came home. Daisy brought

him a nosegay of wild flowers, and Nan insisted on helping bring him his

supper, as he lay on the sofa with the door open into the dining-room,

so that he could see the lads at table, and they could nod socially to

him over their bread and butter.

Mr. Bhaer carried him away to his bed early, and Teddy came in his

night-gown to say good-night, for he went to his little nest with the

birds.

“I want to say my prayers to Danny; may I?” he asked; and when his

mother said, “Yes,” the little fellow knelt down by Dan's bed, and

folding his chubby hands, said softly,

“Pease Dod bess everybody, and hep me to be dood.”

Then he went away smiling with sleepy sweetness over his mother's

shoulder.

But after the evening talk was done, the evening song sung, and the

house grew still with beautiful Sunday silence, Dan lay in his pleasant

room wide awake, thinking new thoughts, feeling new hopes and desires

stirring in his boyish heart, for two good angels had entered in: love

and gratitude began the work which time and effort were to finish; and

with an earnest wish to keep his first promise, Dan folded his hands

together in the Darkness, and softly whispered Teddy's little prayer,

“Please God bless every one, and help me to be good.”