CHAPTER XI
SUNDAY
Mrs. Moss woke Ben with a kiss next morning, for her heart yearned overthe fatherless lad as if he had been her own, and she had no other wayof showing her sympathy. Ben had forgotten his troubles in sleep; butthe memory of them returned as soon as he opened his eyes, heavy withthe tears they had shed. He did not cry any more, but felt strange andlonely till he called Sancho and told him all about it, for he was shyeven with kind Mrs. Moss, and glad when she went away.
Sancho seemed to understand that his master was in trouble, and listenedto the sad little story with gurgles of interest, whines of condolence,and intelligent barks whenever the word "daddy" was uttered. He wasonly a brute, but his dumb affection comforted the boy more than anywords; for Sanch had known and loved "father" almost as long and well ashis son, and that seemed to draw them closely together, now they wereleft alone.
"We must put on mourning, old feller. It's the proper thing, andthere's nobody else to do it now," said Ben, as he dressed, rememberinghow all the company wore bits of crape somewhere about them at 'Melia'sfuneral.
It was a real sacrifice of boyish vanity to take the blue ribbon withits silver anchors off the new hat, and replace it with the dingy blackband from the old one; but Ben was quite sincere in doing this, thoughdoubtless his theatrical life made him think of the effect more thanother lads would have done. He could find nothing in his limitedwardrobe with which to decorate Sanch except a black cambric pocket. Itwas already half torn out of his trousers with the weight of nails,pebbles, and other light trifles; so he gave it a final wrench and tiedit into the dog's collar, saying to himself, as he put away histreasures, with a sigh,--
"One pocket is enough; I sha'n't want anything but a han'k'chi'fto-day."
Fortunately, that article of dress was clean, for he had but one; and,with this somewhat ostentatiously drooping from the solitary pocket, theserious hat upon his head, the new shoes creaking mournfully, and Sanchgravely following, much impressed with his black bow, the chief mournerdescended, feeling that he had done his best to show respect to thedead.
Mrs. Moss's eyes filled as she saw the rusty band, and guessed why itwas there; but she found it difficult to repress a smile when she beheldthe cambric symbol of woe on the dog's neck. Not a word was said todisturb the boy's comfort in these poor attempts, however; and he wentout to do his chores, conscious that he was an object of interest to hisfriends, especially so to Bab and Betty, who, having been told of Ben'sloss, now regarded him with a sort of pitying awe very grateful to hisfeelings.
"I want you to drive me to church by-and-by. It is going to be prettywarm, and Thorny is hardly strong enough to venture yet," said MissCelia, when Ben ran over after breakfast to see if she had any thing forhim to do; for he considered her his mistress now, though he was not totake possession of his new quarters till the morrow.
"Yes, 'm, I'd like to, if I look well enough," answered Ben, pleased tobe asked, but impressed with the idea that people had to be very fine onsuch occasions.
"You will do very well when I have given you a touch. God doesn't mindour clothes, Ben, and the poor are as welcome as the rich to him. Youhave not been much, have you?" asked Miss Celia, anxious to help theboy, and not quite sure how to begin.
"No, 'm; our folks didn't hardly ever go, and father was so tired heused to rest Sundays, or go off in the woods with me."
A little quaver came into Ben's voice as he spoke, and a sudden motionmade his hat-brim hide his eyes, for the thought of the happy times thatwould never come any more was almost too much for him.
"That was a pleasant way to rest. I often do so, and we will go to thegrove this afternoon and try it. But I have to go to church in themorning; it seems to start me right for the week; and if one has asorrow that is the place where one can always find comfort. Will youcome and try it, Ben, dear?"
"I'd do any thing to please you," muttered Ben, without looking up; for,though he felt her kindness to the bottom of his heart, he did wish thatno one would talk about father for a little while; it was so hard tokeep from crying, and he hated to be a baby.
Miss Celia seemed to understand, for the next thing she said, in a verycheerful tone, was, "See what a pretty sight that is. When I was alittle girl I used to think spiders spun cloth for the fairies, andspread it on the grass to bleach."
Ben stopped digging a hole in the ground with his toe, and looked up, tosee a lovely cobweb like a wheel, circle within circle, spun across acorner of the arch over the gate. Tiny drops glittered on every threadas the light shone through the gossamer curtain, and a soft breath ofair made it tremble as if about to blow it away.
"It's mighty pretty, but it will fly off, just as the others did. Inever saw such a chap as that spider is. He keeps on spinning a new oneevery day, for they always get broke, and he don't seem to bediscouraged a mite," said Ben, glad to change the subject, as she knewhe would be.
"That is the way he gets his living, he spins his web and waits for hisdaily bread,--or fly, rather; and it always comes, I fancy. By-and-byyou will see that pretty trap full of insects, and Mr. Spider will layup his provisions for the day. After that he doesn't care how soon hisfine web blows away."
"I know him; he's a handsome feller, all black and yellow, and lives upin that corner where the shiny sort of hole is. He dives down the minuteI touch the gate, but comes up after I've kept still a minute. I like towatch him. But he must hate me, for I took away a nice green fly andsome little millers one day."
"Did you ever hear the story of Bruce and his spider? Most children knowand like that," said Miss Celia, seeing that he seemed interested.
"No, 'm; I don't know ever so many things most children do," answeredBen, soberly; for, since he had been among his new friends, he had oftenfelt his own deficiencies.
"Ah, but you also know many things which they do not. Half the boys intown would give a great deal to be able to ride and run and leap as youdo; and even the oldest are not as capable of taking care of themselvesas you are. Your active life has done much in some ways to make a man ofyou; but in other ways it was bad, as I think you begin to see. Now,suppose you try to forget the harmful part, and remember only the good,while learning to be more like our boys, who go to school and church,and fit themselves to become industrious, honest men." Ben had beenlooking straight up in Miss Celia's face as she spoke, feeling thatevery word was true, though he could not have expressed it if he hadtried; and, when she paused, with her bright eyes inquiringly fixed onhis, he answered heartily,--
"I'd like to stay here and be respectable; for, since I came, I've foundout that folks don't think much of circus riders, though they like to goand see 'em. I didn't use to care about school and such things, but I donow; and I guess he'd like it better than to have me knockin' round thatway without him to look after me."
"I know he would; so we will try, Benny. I dare say it will seem dulland hard at first, after the gay sort of life you have led, and you willmiss the excitement. But it was not good for you, and we will do ourbest to find something safer. Don't be discouraged; and, when thingstrouble you, come to me as Thorny does, and I'll try to straighten themout for you. I've got two boys now, and I want to do my duty by both."
Before Ben had time for more than a grateful look, a tumbled headappeared at an upper window, and a sleepy voice drawled out,--
"Celia! I can't find a bit of a shoe-string, and I wish you'd come anddo my neck-tie."
"Lazy boy, come down here, and bring one of your black ties with you.Shoe-strings are in the little brown bag on my bureau," called back MissCelia; adding, with a laugh, as the tumbled head disappeared mumblingsomething about "bothering old bags", "Thorny has been half spoiled sincehe was ill. You mustn't mind his fidgets and dawdling ways. He'll getover them soon, and then I know you two will be good friends."
Ben had his doubts about that, but resolved to do his best for her sake;so, when Master Thorny presently appeared, with a careless "How are you,Ben?" that young person
answered respectfully,--"Very well, thankyou," though his nod was as condescending as his new master's; becausehe felt that a boy who could ride bareback and turn a double somersaultin the air ought not to "knuckle under" to a fellow who had not thestrength of a pussy-cat.
"Sailor's knot, please; keeps better so," said Thorny, holding up hischin to have a blue-silk scarf tied to suit him, for he was alreadybeginning to be something of a dandy.
"You ought to wear red till you get more color, dear;" and his sisterrubbed her blooming cheek against his pale one, as if to lend him someof her own roses.
"Men don't care how they look," said Thorny, squirming out of her hold,for he hated to be "cuddled" before people.
"Oh, don't they? Here 's a vain boy who brushes his hair a dozen timesa day, and quiddles over his collar till he is so tired he can hardlystand," laughed Miss Celia, with a little tweak of his ear.
"I should like to know what this is for?" demanded Thorny, in adignified tone, presenting a black tie.
"For my other boy. He is going to church with me," and Miss Celia tieda second knot for this young gentleman, with a smile that seemed tobrighten up even the rusty hat-band.
"Well, I like that--" began Thorny, in a tone that contradicted hiswords.
A look from his sister reminded him of what she had told him half anhour ago, and he stopped short, understanding now why she was "extragood to the little tramp."
"So do I, for you are of no use as a driver yet, and I don't like tofasten Lita when I have my best gloves on," said Miss Celia, in a tonethat rather nettled Master Thorny.
"Is Ben going to black my boots before he goes? with a glance at the newshoes which caused them to creak uneasily.
"No; he is going to black mine, if he will be so kind. You won't needboots for a week yet, so we won't waste any time over them. You willfind every thing in the shed, Ben; and at ten you may go for Lita."
With that, Miss Celia walked her brother off to the diningroom, and Benretired to vent his ire in such energetic demonstrations with theblacking-brush that the little boots shone splendidly.
He thought he had never seen any thing as pretty as his mistress when,an hour later, she came out of the house in her white shawl and bonnet,holding a book and a late lily-of-the-valley in the pearl-coloredgloves, which he hardly dared to touch as he helped her into thecarriage. He had seen a good many fine ladies in his life; and those hehad known had been very gay in the colors of their hats and gowns, veryfond of cheap jewelry, and much given to feathers, lace, and furbelows;so it rather puzzled him to discover why Miss Celia looked so sweet andelegant in such a simple suit. He did not then know that the charm wasin the woman, not the clothes; or that merely living near such a personwould do more to give him gentle manners, good principles, and purethoughts, than almost any other training he could have had. But he wasconscious that it was pleasant to be there, neatly dressed, in goodcompany, and going to church like a respectable boy. Somehow, the lonelyfeeling got better as he rolled along between green fields, with theJune sunshine brightening every thing, a restful quiet in the air, and afriend beside him who sat silently looking out at the lovely world withwhat he afterward learned to call her "Sunday face,"--a soft, happylook, as if all the work and weariness of the past week were forgotten,and she was ready to begin afresh when this blessed day was over.
"Well, child, what is it?" she asked, catching his eye as he stole a shyglance at her, one of many which she had not seen.
"I was only thinking, you looked as if--"
"As if what? Don't be afraid," she said, for Ben paused and fumbled atthe reins, feeling half ashamed to tell his fancy.
"You were saying prayers," he added, wishing she had not caught him.
"So I was. Don't you, when you are happy?
"No,'m. I'm glad, but I don't say any thing."
"Words are not needed; but they help, sometimes, if they are sincere andsweet. Did you never learn any prayers, Ben?"
"Only 'Now I lay me.' Grandma taught me that when I was a little mite ofa boy."
"I will teach you another, the best that was ever made, because it saysall we need ask."
"Our folks wasn't very pious; they didn't have time, I s'pose."
"I wonder if you know just what it means to be pious?"
"Goin' to church, and readin' the Bible, and sayin' prayers and hymns,ain't it?"
"Those things are a part of it; but being kind and cheerful, doing one'sduty, helping others, and loving God, is the best way to show that weare pious in the true sense of the word."
"Then you are!" and Ben looked as if her acts had been a betterdefinition than her words.
"I try to be, but I very often fail; so every Sunday I make newresolutions, and work hard to keep them through the week. That is agreat help, as you will find when you begin to try it."
"Do you think if I said in meetin', 'I won't ever swear any more,' thatI wouldn't do it again?" asked Ben, soberly; for that was his besettingsin just now.
"I'm afraid we can't get rid of our faults quite so easily; I wish wecould: but I do believe that if you keep saying that, and trying tostop, you will cure the habit sooner than you think."
"I never did swear very bad, and I didn't mind much till I came here;but Bab and Betty looked so scared when I said 'damn,' and Mrs. Mossscolded me so, I tried to leave off. It's dreadful hard, though, when Iget mad. 'Hang it!' don't seem half so good if I want to let off steam."
"Thorny used to 'confound!' every thing, so I proposed that he shouldwhistle instead; and now he sometimes pipes up so suddenly and shrillythat it makes me jump. How would that do, instead of swearing?" proposedMiss Celia, not the least surprised at the habit of profanity, which theboy could hardly help learning among his former associates.
Ben laughed, and promised to try it, feeling a mischievous satisfactionat the prospect of out-whistling Master Thorny, as he knew he should;for the objectionable words rose to his lips a dozen times a day.
The Ben was ringing as they drove into town; and, by the time Lita wascomfortably settled in her shed, people were coming up from all quartersto cluster around the steps of the old meeting-house like bees about ahive. Accustomed to a tent, where people kept their hats on, Ben forgotall about his, and was going down the aisle covered, when a gentle handtook it off, and Miss Celia whispered, as she gave it to him,--
"This is a holy place; remember that, and uncover at the door."
Much abashed, Ben followed to the pew, where the Squire and his wifesoon joined them.
"Glad to see him here," said the old gentleman with an approving nod, ashe recognized the boy and remembered his loss.
"Hope he won't nestle round in meeting-time," whispered Mrs. Allen,composing herself in the corner with much rustling of black silk.
"I'll take care that he doesn't disturb you," answered Miss Celia,pushing a stool under the short legs, and drawing a palm-leaf fan withinreach.
Ben gave an inward sigh at the prospect before him; for an hour'scaptivity to an active lad is hard to bear, and he really did want tobehave well. So he folded his arms and sat like a statue, with nothingmoving but his eyes. They rolled to and fro, up and down, from the highred pulpit to the worn hymnbooks in the rack, recognizing two littlefaces under blue-ribboned hats in a distant pew, and finding itimpossible to restrain a momentary twinkle in return for the solemn winkBilly Barton bestowed upon him across the aisle. Ten minutes of thisdecorous demeanor made it absolutely necessary for him to stir; so heunfolded his arms and crossed his legs as cautiously as a mouse moves inthe presence of a cat; for Mrs. Allen's eye was on him, and he knew byexperience that it was a very sharp one.
The music which presently began was a great relief to him, for undercover of it he could wag his foot and no one heard the creak thereof;and when they stood up to sing, he was so sure that all the boys werelooking at him, he was glad to sit down again. The good old ministerread the sixteenth chapter of Samuel, and then proceeded to preach along and somewhat dull sermon. Ben listene
d with all his ears, for hewas interested in the young shepherd, "ruddy and of a beautifulcountenance," who was chosen to be Saul's armor-bearer. He wanted tohear more about him, and how he got on, and whether the evil spiritstroubled Saul again after David had harped them out. But nothing morecame; and the old gentleman droned on about other things till poor Benfelt that he must either go to sleep like the Squire, or tip the stoolover by accident, since "nestling" was forbidden, and relief of somesort he must have.
Mrs. Allen gave him a peppermint, and he dutifully ate it, though it wasso hot it made his eyes water. Then she fanned him, to his greatannoyance, for it blew his hair about; and the pride of his life was tohave his head as smooth and shiny as black satin. An irrepressible sighof weariness attracted Miss Celia's attention at last; for, though sheseemed to be listening devoutly, her thoughts had flown over the sea,with tender prayers for one whom she loved even more than David did hisJonathan. She guessed the trouble in a minute, and had provided for it,knowing by experience that few small boys can keep quiet throughsermon-time. Finding a certain place in the little book she had brought,she put it into his hands, with the whisper, "Read if you are tired."
Ben clutched the book and gladly obeyed, though the title, "ScriptureNarratives," did not look very inviting. Then his eye fell on thepicture of a slender youth cutting a large man's head off, while manypeople stood looking on.
"Jack, the giant-killer," thought Ben, and turned the page to see thewords "David and Goliath", which was enough to set him to reading thestory with great interest; for here was the shepherd boy turned into ahero. No more fidgets now; the sermon was no longer heard, the fanflapped unfelt, and Billy Barton's spirited sketches in the hymnbookwere vainly held up for admiration. Ben was quite absorbed in thestirring history of King David, told in a way that fitted it forchildren's reading, and illustrated with fine pictures which charmed theboy's eye.
Sermon and story ended at the same time; and, while he listened to theprayer, Ben felt as if he understood now what Miss Celia meant by sayingthat words helped when they were well chosen and sincere. Severalpetitions seemed as if especially intended for him; and he repeated themto himself that he might remember them, they sounded so sweet andcomfortable heard for the first time just when he most needed comfort.Miss Celia saw a new expression in the boy's face as she glanced down athim, and heard a little humming at her side when all stood up to singthe cheerful hymn with which they were dismissed.
"How do you like church?" asked the young lady, as they drove away.
"First-rate!" answered Ben, heartily.
"Especially the sermon?"
Ben laughed, and said, with an affectionate glance at the little book inher lap,--
"I couldn't understand it; but that story was just elegant. There'smore; and I'd admire to read 'em, if I could."
"I'm glad you like them; and we will keep the rest for anothersermon-time. Thorny used to do so, and always called this his 'pewbook.' I don't expect you to understand much that you hear yet awhile;but it is good to be there, and after reading these stories you will bemore interested when you hear the names of the people mentioned here."
"Yes, 'm. Wasn't David a fine feller? I liked all about the kid andthe corn and the ten cheeses, and killin' the lion and bear, andslingin' old Goliath dead first shot. I want to know about Joseph nexttime, for I saw a gang of robbers puttin' him in a hole, and it lookedreal interesting."
Miss Celia could not help smiling at Ben's way of telling things; butshe was pleased to see that he was attracted by the music and thestories, and resolved to make church-going so pleasant that he wouldlearn to love it for its own sake.
"Now, you have tried my way this morning, and we will try yours thisafternoon. Come over about four and help me roll Thorny down to thegrove. I am going to put one of the hammocks there, because the smellof the pines is good for him, and you can talk or read or amuseyourselves in any quiet way you like."
"Can I take Sanch along? He doesn't like to be left, and felt real badbecause I shut him up, for fear he'd follow and come walkin' intomeetin' to find me."
"Yes, indeed; let the clever Bow-wow have a good time and enjoy Sundayas much as I want my boys to."
Quite content with this arrangement, Ben went home to dinner, which hemade very lively by recounting Billy Barton's ingenious devices tobeguile the tedium of sermon time. He said nothing of his conversationwith Miss Celia, because he had not quite made up his mind whether heliked it or not; it was so new and serious, he felt as if he had betterlay it by, to think over a good deal before he could understand allabout it. But he had time to get dismal again, and long for fouro'clock; because he had nothing to do except whittle. Mrs. Moss went totake a nap; Bab and Betty sat demurely on their bench reading Sundaybooks; no boys were allowed to come and play; even the hens retiredunder the currant-bushes, and the cock stood among them, cluckingdrowsily, as if reading them a sermon.
"Dreadful slow day!" thought Ben; and, retiring to the recesses of hisown room, he read over the two letters which seemed already old to him.Now that the first shock was over, he could not make it true that hisfather was dead, and he gave up trying; for he was an honest boy, andfelt that it was foolish to pretend to be more unhappy than he reallywas. So he put away his letters, took the black pocket off Sanch's neck,and allowed himself to whistle softly as he packed up his possessions,ready to move next day, with few regrets and many bright anticipationsfor the future.
"Thorny, I want you to be good to Ben, and amuse him in some quiet waythis afternoon. I must stay and see the Morrises, who are coming over;but you can go to the grove and have a pleasant time," said Miss Celiato her brother.
"Not much fun in talking to that horsey fellow. I'm sorry for him, but Ican't do anything to amuse him," objected Thorny, pulling himself upfrom the sofa with a great yawn.
"You can be very agreeable when you like; and Ben has had enough of mefor this time. To-morrow he will have his work, and do very well; but wemust try to help him through to-day, because he doesn't know what to dowith himself. Besides, it is just the time to make a good impression onhim, while grief for his father softens him, and gives us a chance. Ilike him, and I'm sure he wants to do well; so it is our duty to helphim, as there seems to be no one else."
"Here goes, then! Where is he?" and Thorny stood up, won by his sister'ssweet earnestness, but very doubtful of his own success with the "horseyfellow."
"Waiting with the chair. Randa has gone on with the hammock. Be a dearboy, and I'll do as much for you some day."
"Don't see how you can be a dear boy. You're the best sister that everwas; so I'll love all the scallywags you ask me to."
With a laugh and a kiss, Thorny shambled off to ascend his chariot,good-humoredly saluting his pusher, whom he found sitting on the highrail behind, with his feet on Sanch.
"Drive on, Benjamin. I don't know the way, so I can't direct. Don'tspill me out,--that's all I've got to say."
"All right, sir,"--and away Ben trundled down the long walk that ledthrough the orchard to a little grove of seven pines.
A pleasant spot; for a soft rustle filled the air, a brown carpet ofpine needles, with fallen cones for a pattern, lay under foot; and overthe tops of the tall brakes that fringed the knoll one had glimpses ofhill and valley, farm-houses and winding river, like a silver ribbonthrough the low, green meadows.
"A regular summer house!" said Thorny, surveying it with approval."What's the matter, Randa? Won't it do?" he asked, as the stout maiddropped her arms with a puff, after vainly trying to throw the hammockrope over a branch.
"That end went up beautiful, but this one won't; the branches is sohigh, I can't reach 'em; and I'm no hand at flinging ropes round."
"I'll fix it;" and Ben went up the pine like a squirrel, tied a stoutknot, and swung himself down again before Thorny could get out of thechair.
"My patience, what a spry boy!" exclaimed Randa, admiringly.
"That 's nothing; you ought to see me shin up a smooth tent
-pole," saidBen, rubbing the pitch off his hands, with a boastful wag of the head.
"You can go, Randa. Just hand me my cushion and books, Ben; then you cansit in the chair while I talk to you," commanded Thorny, tumbling intothe hammock.
"What's he goin' to say to me?" wondered Ben to himself, as he sat downwith Sanch sprawling among the wheels.
"Now, Ben, I think you'd better learn a hymn; I always used to when Iwas a little chap, and it is a good thing to do Sundays," began the newteacher, with a patronizing air, which ruffled his pupil as much as theopprobrious term "little chap."
"I'll be--whew--if I do!" whistled Ben, stopping an oath just intime.
"It is not polite to whistle in company," said Thorny, with greatdignity.
"Miss Celia told me to. I'll say 'confound it,' if you like thatbetter," answered Ben, as a sly smile twinkled in his eyes.
"Oh, I see! She 's told you about it? Well, then, if you want to pleaseher, you'll learn a hymn right off. Come, now, she wants me to be cleverto you, and I'd like to do it; but if you get peppery, how can I?"
Thorny spoke in a hearty, blunt way, which suited Ben much better thanthe other, and he responded pleasantly,--
"If you won't be grand I won't be peppery. Nobody is going to boss mebut Miss Celia; so I'll learn hymns if she wants me to."
"'In the soft season of thy youth' is a good one to begin with. Ilearned it when I was six. Nice thing; better have it." And Thornyoffered the book like a patriarch addressing an infant.
Ben surveyed the yellow page with small favor, for the long s in theold-fashioned printing bewildered him; and when he came to the last twolines, he could not resist reading them wrong,--
"The earth affords no lovelier fight Than a religious youth."
"I don't believe I could ever get that into my head straight. Haven'tyou got a plain one any where round?" he asked, turning over the leaveswith some anxiety.
"Look at the end, and see if there isn't a piece of poetry pasted in.You learn that, and see how funny Celia will look when you say it toher. She wrote it when she was a girl, and somebody had it printed forother children. I like it best, myself."
Pleased by the prospect of a little fun to cheer his virtuous task, Benwhisked over the leaves, and read with interest the lines Miss Celia hadwritten in her girlhood:
"MY KINGDOM
A little kingdom I possess, Where thoughts and feelings dwell; And very hard I find the task Of governing it well. For passion tempts and troubles me, A wayward will misleads, And selfishness its shadow casts On all my words and deeds.
"How can I learn to rule myself, To be the child I should,-- Honest and brave,--nor ever tire Of trying to be good? How can I keep a sunny soul To shine along life's way? How can I tune my little heart To sweetly sing all day?
"Dear Father, help me with the love That casteth out my fear! Teach me to lean on thee, and feel That thou art very near; That no temptation is unseen, No childish grief too small, Since Thou, with patience infinite, Doth soothe and comfort all.
"I do not ask for any crown, But that which all may will Nor seek to conquer any world Except the one within. Be then my guide until I find, Led by a tender hand, Thy happy kingdom in myself, And dare to take command."
"I like that!" said Ben, emphatically, when he had read the little hymn."I understand it, and I'll learn it right away. Don't see how she couldmake it all come out so nice and pretty."
"Celia can do any thing!" and Thorny gave an all-embracing wave of thehand, which forcibly expressed his firm belief in his sister's boundlesspowers.
"I made some poetry once. Bab and Betty thought it was first-rate, Ididn't," said Ben, moved to confidence by the discovery of Miss Celia'spoetic skill.
"Say it," commanded Thorny, adding with tact, "I can't make any to savemy life,--never could but I'm fond of it."
"Chevalita, Pretty cretr, I do love her Like a brother; Just to ride Is my delight, For she does not Kick or bite,"
recited Ben, with modest pride, for his first attempt had been inspiredby sincere affection, and pronounced "lovely" by the admiring girls.
"Very good! You must say them to Celia, too. She likes to hear Litapraised. You and she and that little Barlow boy ought to try for aprize, as the poets did in Athens. I'll tell you all about it some time.Now, you peg away at your hymn."
Cheered by Thorny's commendation, Ben fell to work at his new task,squirming about in the chair as if the process of getting words into hismemory was a very painful one. But he had quick wits, and had oftenlearned comic songs; so he soon was able to repeat the four verseswithout mistake, much to his own and Thorny's satisfaction.
"Now we'll talk," said the well-pleased preceptor; and talk they did,one swinging in the hammock, the other rolling about on thepine-needles, as they related their experiences boy fashion. Ben's werethe most exciting; but Thorny's were not without interest, for he hadlived abroad for several years, and could tell all sorts of drollstories of the countries he had seen.
Busied with friends, Miss Celia could not help wondering how the ladsgot on; and, when the tea-bell rang, waited a little anxiously for theirreturn, knowing that she could tell at a glance if they had enjoyedthemselves.
"All goes well so far," she thought, as she watched their approach witha smile; for Sancho sat bolt upright in the chair which Ben pushed,while Thorny strolled beside him, leaning on a stout cane newly cut.Both boys were talking busily, and Thorny laughed from time to time, asif his comrade's chat was very amusing.
"See what a jolly cane Ben cut for me! He's great fun if you don'tstroke him the wrong way," said the elder lad, flourishing his staff asthey came up.
"What have you been doing down there? You look so merry, I suspectmischief," asked Miss Celia, surveying them front the steps.
"We've been as good as gold. I talked, and Ben learned a hymn to pleaseyou. Come, young man, say your piece," said Thorny, with an expressionof virtuous content.
Taking off his hat, Ben soberly obeyed, much enjoying the quick colorthat came up in Miss Celia's face as she listened, and feeling as ifwell repaid for the labor of learning by the pleased look with which shesaid, as he ended with a bow,--
"I feel very proud to think you chose that, and to hear you say it as ifit meant something to you. I was only fourteen when I wrote it; but itcame right out of my heart, and did me good. I hope it may help you alittle."
Ben murmured that he guessed it would; but felt too shy to talk aboutsuch things before Thorny, so hastily retired to put the chair away, andthe others went in to tea. But later in the evening, when Miss Celia wassinging like a nightingale, the boy slipped away from sleepy Bab andBetty to stand by the syringa bush and listen, with his heart full ofnew thoughts and happy feelings; for never before had he spent a Sundaylike this. And when he went to bed, instead of saying "Now I lay me," herepeated the third verse of Miss Celia's hymn; for that was hisfavorite, because his longing for the father whom he had seen made itseem sweet and natural now to love and lean, without fear upon theFather whom he had not seen.