CHAPTER X
HENRY BURNS MAKES A GIFT
It was evening, and the streets of Benton's shopping section werelighted; the illumination of windows serving to display the attractionsarranged therein to best advantage. The night was warm and pleasant, andthe passers-by moved leisurely, enjoying the sights, or pausing now andthen to gaze in, as some object caught their eye.
Three boys, sauntering along one of the principal thoroughfares, stoppedabruptly as one of their number called them to a halt and pointed onahead. The object to which he pointed was a fourth youth, who wasstanding, with hands in his pockets, intently absorbed in the display inone of the shop windows.
"Sh-h-h!" whispered young Joe Warren to his companions, his brotherGeorge and Bob White, "look at Henry Burns. My, but that's rich. We'vegot one on him, all right. Hold on, let's come up on him easy."
The boys drew a little nearer to Henry Burns, grinning broadly. HenryBurns, all unmindful of such concerted observation, continued to gaze inat the brilliantly lighted window.
The contents of the window-case were, indeed, such as one would hardlyhave supposed to be of interest to a youth of his age. The shop was oneof Benton's largest dry-goods establishments, and the particular windowwas devoted wholly to an assortment of women's and misses' dresses.Several more or less life-like figures, arrayed in garments of theseason, occupied prominent positions in the display.
Directly in line with Henry Burns's vision was one of these: the figureof a girl, dressed in a neat summer sailor suit, the yellow curls of thehead surmounted with a dashing sailor hat; its waxen cheeks tinted amost decided pink; its blue, staring eyes apparently returning the gazeof Henry Burns, unabashed at his admiration.
There was no mistaking Henry Burns's desire to form a closeracquaintance with the wax figure, for presently he approached closer tothe window and stood studying it with undisguised interest.
"Seems to like the looks of her, don't he?" chuckled Young Joe, nudgingBob White and doubling up with laughter. "Wish Jack Harvey was here nowto see him. Come on, let's wake him up."
Approaching softly, the three neared the unsuspecting admirer of theyellow-haired, waxen miss.
Still lost in contemplation of her, Henry Burns was suddenly greeted bya series of yells and hoots of derision that would have done credit to awild west performance. Then roars of laughter followed, as he turned andfaced them.
It was not in the nature of Henry Burns to be startled or easilydisconcerted, however, and, although taken by surprise, he turned slowlyand faced the three.
"Hello," he said coolly.
"Hello, Henry," snickered Young Joe. "Say, what's her name?"
"Yes, who is she?" echoed the other two; whereupon all three went offagain into mingled roars of laughter and yells of delight.
"Dunno," responded Henry Burns. "I'll go in and ask, though, if youwant."
"Isn't she sweet?" said Bob White. "How long have you known her?"
"Oh, not so long as you've known Kitty Clark," replied Henry Burns.
"Ow! wow!" squealed Young Joe; an exclamation which began in greatsatisfaction and terminated in a howl, as he felt the force of a punchfrom Bob's vigorous right arm.
It wasn't so easy getting the best of Henry Burns, in spite of hisdisadvantage.
"Seen Jack?" he inquired.
"No--yes, there he comes now," answered George Warren, pointing back inthe direction whence they had come.
Henry Burns left them abruptly, and they went along, calling back at himmockingly. But he paid little heed. Anyone familiar with the youth wouldhave known that he had something particular in mind; and in such case,Henry Burns was not to be turned aside by bantering.
Some five minutes later, Henry Burns and Harvey stood looking in at thevery same shop window, whither Henry Burns had conducted his companion.
"Say--er--Jack, what do you think of that?" inquired Henry Burns,pointing in at the wax figure.
Harvey looked at his companion and grinned.
"Think of what!" he exclaimed. "The curls?"
"No, hang the curls!" said Henry Burns. "The dress."
Harvey stared at him, open-mouthed.
"Oh, yes," he said at length, as though endeavouring to grasp themeaning of so extraordinary an inquiry; "looks like Bob White's sister.What of it?"
"Oh, nothing," replied Henry Burns, "only you and I are going to buyit."
Harvey's grin expanded.
"Sure," he responded. "You'd look nice in it, Henry. Only you need thecurls, too--"
"And give it to Bess Thornton," continued Henry Burns, unmindful of hiscomrade's remark.
Harvey whistled.
"Well, I'll be skinned if I don't think you're in earnest!" heexclaimed.
"I am," said Henry Burns. "It's eight dollars and eighty-sevencents--marked down--they always are, ain't they? Half of that's fourdollars and something or other apiece. Come in with me?"
"Not much!" cried Harvey, turning red at the very thought of it. "I'llpay half, though, if you'll get somebody to buy it. It's worth more thanthat to me, to win that race. Well, if you don't beat all thinking upqueer things. What put it into your head?"
"Why, she spoiled hers, showing us how to come through that sluice,didn't she?" said Henry Burns.
"Guess not," replied Harvey. "Spoiled long before that, I reckon.They're poor enough. Get somebody to buy the dress, and I'll pay forhalf, all right."
"I'm going to buy it now," said Henry Burns, coolly; "that is, if you'vegot any money. I've got five dollars."
Harvey produced his pocket-book and the necessary bills.
"Gee!" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't do it for a hundred dollars. Go on;I'll watch you through the window."
In no wise daunted, Henry Burns, whose critical study of the model andthe garment through the window had satisfied him that the figure was ofBess Thornton's size, boldly entered the store, calmly made thepurchase, ignored the inquiry of the clerk if he was thinking of gettingmarried, and returned with it to his companion.
"Say," exclaimed Harvey, "I don't wonder you learned to sail the_Viking_ quick as you did. You've got the nerve."
"Now we've got to take it up there," said Henry Burns.
Harvey stopped short.
"Take that dress and give it to a girl?" he asked.
"No, we won't give it to her," replied his comrade. "She might not liketo have us--and I wouldn't know what to say, would you?"
"Would I!" exclaimed Harvey.
"We'll just leave it and cut and run," explained Henry Burns. "Then shewon't know who sent it, and she'll have to keep it. See?"
"It's most nine o'clock," remarked Harvey.
"I'm going," said Henry Burns.
"Oh, well, I'll stand by," said Harvey. "Let's be off, then. It's a goodtwo miles and a half, nearer three."
Shortly after, one might have seen the two comrades trudging along theroad leading out of Benton, in the direction of Ellison's mill.
They walked briskly, and in a little less than three quarters of an houra light from a window on a hill-top warned them that they wereapproaching the farmhouse of Farmer Ellison. They turned in from theroad that ran along the bank of the stream, and made their way throughhis field on the hillside, in the direction of the brook.
"Does Ellison keep any dog?" asked Harvey, once.
"I don't know, any more than you do," replied his companion. "Never sawany. We'll keep well down near the brook, though, so they can't see usfrom the house."
They passed through some clumps of small cedars and thin birches,stumbling now and then over cradle-knolls and pitching into littledepressions. It was a clear night and starlit, but the shadows in thehalf darkness were confusing. A lamp gleamed in the kitchen window,above them, and they could see someone moving past the window from timeto time.
"Ellison hasn't gone to bed," remarked Harvey.
"Well, what of it?" replied Henry Burns. "Not scared of him, are you?"
"No," answered Harvey. "But he's touchy about this bro
ok. Ever since hecaught Willie Dodd setting a net there one night he's been crazy forfear he'd lose some of these trout."
"I know what's the matter with you," said Henry Burns. "It's this dress.You wouldn't have anyone catch us with it for a million dollars."
"You bet I wouldn't," answered Harvey.
Harvey's nerves, usually the steadiest, were not proof against even aslight alarm; for when, a few moments later, his companion touched himlightly on an arm and motioned for him to be still, he waited, keyed upto a high point of excitement and ready for a dash across the fields.
"What is it?" he whispered.
"Sh-h!" replied Henry Burns, clutching his bundle tight under one arm,and peering through the scattered alders, into which they hadpenetrated. "I heard a step."
They waited, anxiously.
It was Harvey's turn, however, to enjoy a laugh at the expense of hiscomrade, as the steps that the quick ear of Henry Burns had heard werecontinued, this time with an unmistakable crackling of undergrowth.
"There's your prowler, Henry," he said, laughing softly and slapping hisfriend between the shoulders. "She's got two horns, but I guess shewon't hook, unless she sees through that box and gets a sight of thatdress."
A look of relief overspread Henry Burns's face, as a Jersey cow stalkedslowly through the brush and stood gazing inquiringly at the two boys.But, observing her for a moment, it did not escape Henry Burns that theanimal suddenly gave a spring and turned and faced the other way, asthough some noise behind had surprised her.
Henry Burns clutched his comrade and pointed back past the cow. Harvey'seyes followed where he pointed.
The figure of a man was plainly to be seen, stealing along in theshadows of the clumps of bushes.
They paused not another instant, but dashed forward, heedless now of thenoise they made, thrusting branches aside and leaping from one knoll toanother where the soil was boggy. At the same moment Farmer Ellison,brandishing a club, emerged into plain view and darted after them,crying out as he ran.
"Stop there!" he shouted. "I'll shoot yer if yer don't stop. I'll haveno nets set in this stream. Just let me lay this club on your backs."
They only fled the faster.
"He won't shoot," gasped Henry Burns. "Make for the foot of the dam.We'll cross the brook."
As for Harvey, threats of a fire of infantry wouldn't have stopped him.He followed his slighter companion, who led the way, despite theincumbrance of the box he carried.
Through pasture and swamp the chase continued. The boys were fleeter offoot, but Farmer Ellison knew the ground. And once he skirted a boggypiece of land and nearly headed them off. They turned toward the brook,gained its shore and sped along to the foot of the dam. There the water,diminished by the obstruction, flowed from a little basin out on toshallower bottom, from which here and there a rock protruded.
Springing from one to another of these, slipping and splashing to theirknees, aided here and there by a bit of half decayed log or drift-wood,they got across and scrambled up the opposite bank just as FarmerEllison, out of breath, appeared on the nearer shore.
"You poachers!" he cried, "Ye've got away this time. But look out forthe next. Remember, it's a shotgun full of rock salt and sore legs foryer if yer come again."
He seated himself by the foot of the dam, nursing a bruised shin, andwatched them disappear through the fields.
"Scared 'em some, anyway, I reckon," he remarked. And was most assuredlycorrect in that. The two boys had not stopped in their flight, and werea mile above the crossing before Farmer Ellison turned himself homeward.
Safe from pursuit at last, Henry Burns threw himself down at the foot ofa tree and laughed till he nearly choked for want of breath.
"How we did scoot," he said. "Did you see old Ellison slip once and gointo the bog?"
"I didn't see anything," replied Harvey, "but a pair of legs in front ofme, cutting it through the mud and brush. How's the dress?"
"Oh, it's all right," said Henry Burns. "Come out if you've got yourwind. We'll leave it and get home."
They were at a point above Grannie Thornton's cottage, and theyproceeded now cautiously, making a circuit to bring them to the brooksome way above the house, pausing now and then to look and to listen.But no one disturbed them. Farmer Ellison had had enough of the chaseand had gone home to nurse his shin.
They came down to the old house. It was dark, and all was still. Harveywaited on watch near the gate, while Henry Burns stole up to the doorand laid the box down carefully against the front door. Then they spedaway.
"Go back the way we came?" inquired Henry Burns, slyly.
"Not much," said Harvey. "Straight out to the main road. No more swampsfor me."
They went out that way, then; took the main road, passed down by the oldinn and the mill, and swung into a rapid stride for home. It was halfpast eleven o'clock when they turned into their beds.
Two days following this adventure, toward the latter part of theafternoon, Henry Burns was walking up the same road by the stream, inthe direction of the camp, where he was to meet Tom Harris for a spin inthe canoe. He had heard no footsteps near, and was therefore not alittle surprised when a hand touched his arm and a laugh that wasfamiliar sounded close by his side.
He turned quickly, and there was Bess Thornton.
"Hullo," she said, "I hoped I'd see somebody on the road. I'll walkalong with you."
Henry Burns said "all right" in a tone that was not over-cordial; for,though not easily abashed, he was, to tell the truth, just a bit shywith girls, and wondered what Tom Harris would say if he saw him comingup the road with Bess.
Perhaps the girl's quick intuitiveness perceived this, for a mischievouslight danced in her black eyes as she said, "I thought perhaps you'dlike to have company. You would, wouldn't you?"
"Yes--oh, yes," responded Henry Burns. "Going home from school?"
"Yes," she answered. "But I didn't want to go this morning, a bit. Gran'made me, though."
"What's the matter?" asked Henry Burns.
"Well," said the girl, "I had to wear this new dress, you see. And whenyou wear a new dress they always say things, don't you know? Danny Davishollered 'stuck up' once, but I punched him."
"Good for you," said Henry Burns, laughing. "I'd like to have seenyou--that a new dress?"
"Course it is," she answered, with a touch of half-offended pride."Can't you see it is?"
Henry Burns made a quick survey of the trim little figure, clad in thedress that had cost him and Harvey the hard scramble of the recentnight. It was surprising what a difference the pretty suit made in theappearance of the girl. He made a mental note of the fact that it seemedjust the right size for her, and that she certainly looked very nice init. Its dark red set off the black of her glossy hair, and she wore aneat straw hat that went well with the dress. At least, it looked allright to Henry Burns.
"You don't look stuck up," he ventured. "You look first rate."
He felt the colour come into his cheeks as he said it. It was the firsttime in his life that he had ever complimented a girl. They were passinga dingy little store, with its windows filled with farming tools, oddsand ends of household stuff and some fishing tackle, and he thought it agood chance to get away.
"Got an errand in here," he said. "Good-bye."
Some ten minutes later he emerged, looked sharply up the road andpursued his journey. He had gone scarcely a rod or two, however, whenthe girl's voice brought him to a halt, much taken aback. She was seatedby the stream, close to the water.
"I thought you'd be along," she said. "I've been watching the pickerel.There's one sunning himself close to the top of water now, just by thelily pads. See me hit him."
She picked up a stone as she spoke, and threw it with surprising easeand accuracy. It struck the water about six inches from the dark objectto which she had pointed. Henry Burns's chagrin at this second meetingwas lost in admiration.
"Good shot!" he exclaimed. "How'd you know 'twas a pickerel?"
r /> "Oh I catch 'em," she answered. "And once in a while I show one to BennyEllison so he can shoot it. I don't like him much, though. He's meanand--fat."
Henry Burns chuckled.
"He can't help that," he said.
"No, but he's always stuffing himself with candy and things," said thegirl. "And he won't ever give you any. I like people that give awaythings once in a while, don't you?"
Henry Burns came the nearest to blushing that he ever had, as heanswered that he guessed he did. There was something in the girl's voiceand manner and in her beaming countenance, telling of her happiness inthe possession of her new finery--though she had feared the ordeal ofwearing it to school, perhaps because of the contrast it made to herusual garment--that he felt a queer feeling in his throat. But reliefwas at hand for him in his embarrassment, for the path that led down tothe camp was in sight, and he bade her good-bye.
He struck off along the path, through the bushes and thin growth ofwoods; but had gone only a little way when the sound of voices, onesharp and angry, made him pause. He retraced his steps, hurrying as herecognized the voice of Bess Thornton, the tone of which indicatedgrief.
He emerged into the road in time to see the girl scramble out of a clumpof brakes and burdock plants by the roadside, the tears standing in hereyes as she picked the burs from the latter out of the new dress. Justin front of her, noting her distress with satisfaction, stood BennyEllison.
"That's what you get for being so proud," he said bluntly. "You needn'tget so mad, though. I was only in fun."
The girl's eyes blazed, angrily; but it was not the Bess Thornton ofevery day that now faced the youth. Some of her fearlessness and dashseemed to have departed, with the taking off of the old dress.
"Let me past," she said, stepping forward; but the boy blocked her way.
"Let me look at the new dress," he demanded. "Where'd you get so much?"
He caught her by an arm, as she attempted to brush past him. Greatly tohis surprise, however, he felt his hand cast off and, at the same time,he was nearly upset by a vigorous push. The youth who had done this,apparently not the least excited, stood facing him as he recoveredhimself.
"Let the girl alone," said Henry Burns. "Let her go past."
One could hardly have noted a trace of anger in his voice, but therewas a warning in his eye that Benny Ellison might have heeded. Thelatter, however, was no longer in a mood to stop at any warning. Hisflabby face reddened and his fist clenched.
"You'll not stop me!" he cried, taking a step toward the girl. "I'llpush both of you in there, if you don't get out."
"Just try it," said Henry Burns, quietly.
Benny Ellison, larger and heavier than the youth who thus dared him,hesitated only a moment. Then he rushed at Henry Burns and theyclinched. The struggle seemed over before it had hardly begun, however,for the next moment Benny Ellison found himself lying on his back in theroad, with Henry Burns firmly holding him there.
"Let me up!" he cried, squirming and kicking. "You don't dare let meup."
By way of answer, Henry Burns relinquished his hold and allowed hisantagonist to regain his feet. Again Benny Ellison, wild with anger,made a rush for Henry Burns, aiming a blow at him as he came on. Dodgingit, and without deigning to attempt to return it, Henry Burns closedwith him once more, and they reeled together to and fro for a moment.
If Benny Ellison had but known it, he had met with one whom Tom Harrisand Bob White, who prided themselves on their athletics, and evenstalwart Jack Harvey, had often found to be their match in wrestling.Slight in build, but with well-knit muscles, Henry Burns wassurprisingly strong. And, above all, he never lost his head.
The contest this time was a moment more prolonged; but again BennyEllison felt his feet going from under him, and again he went down--butthis time harder--to the ground. He lay for a moment, with the breathknocked out of him.
"Want another?" inquired Henry Burns, calmly. He had not even offered tostrike a blow.
Benny Ellison, picking himself up slowly from the dust, hesitated amoment; then backed away.
"I'll have it out with you again some time," he muttered. "I'll getsquare with you for this."
Henry Burns's eyes twinkled.
"Why not now?" he asked.
Benny Ellison made no reply, but went on up the road.
Bess Thornton's face, radiant with delight as Henry Burns turned to her,suddenly clouded.
"Guess I'll have to look out now," she said. "He'll give it to me, if hecatches me."
Henry Burns's face wore an expression of mingled perplexity andembarrassment. Then, as one resolved to see the thing through, hereplied, "Come on, I'll get you home all right."