Ned Wilding's Disappearance: or, The Darewell Chums in the City

The boys told something of themselves, and, in turn, Mrs. Perry related how her husband had died a few years before, leaving her with a small farm, and three children, a boy and the two girls. The farm, she said, had been taken because they could not pay the interest on the mortgage, and there had been nothing left for them.

The town gave them the use of the little cabin, and they managed to make something of a living, for Mrs. Perry did sewing for women in the village, which was about three miles away. They had a little garden patch, and raised some fruit.

“You said you – you had a son?” asked Ned gently. “Is he – ”

“No, he isn’t dead,” replied Mrs. Perry sadly. “Poor boy, I wish I knew where he was. He tried to help us, as much as he could,” she went on. “But there was no work for him around here, and so he decided to try and get work. He went to the city and wrote me that he was going to sea. He said he had a good position, and would send me some money.”

“Did he?” asked Bart.

“I have never heard from him since,” the widow replied. “I’m afraid he is dead,” and she began to cry again.

“Perhaps not,” suggested Ned, as cheerfully as he could. “Maybe he is on a long voyage and can’t write. Or perhaps he has written and the letters have gone astray. I would not worry. He may come back.”

“I think Willie is alive,” remarked Jane. “He was a very proud boy, and perhaps when he found he could not earn money enough to send home, he decided to stay away until he could. Maybe he is ashamed to come home.”

“Oh, he knows I would forgive him! I would be glad to see him if he never had a penny!” exclaimed Mrs. Perry.

“I’ll bet he’ll turn up all right,” put in Fenn. “He’s only waiting until he can come back rich.”

“It’s been about a year now,” the widow went on. “Willie was fifteen when he left, and he’d be sixteen now. It’s his first birthday away from home.”

The boys did their best to comfort her, and she seemed to feel a little better after telling her troubles. The girls were certainly more cheerful after the meal.

“You boys had better stay all night,” Mrs. Perry suggested. “The storm is getting worse. If you don’t mind being crowded we can accommodate you.”

“If we can sleep on the floor in the kitchen we’ll be glad to,” Ned answered.

“I have Willie’s bed, which no one uses, and there is another,” the widow replied. “I have always kept his room ready for him.”

“Then we’ll stay for the night, thank you,” Fenn said.

The storm did appear to be getting worse, or else the howling of the wind about the lonely cabin made it seem so.

CHAPTER VII

HOME FOR THANKSGIVING

“Hurrah! It’s stopped snowing!” exclaimed Ned as he looked out of the little window on the second floor of the cabin the next morning. “Maybe we can get home for Thanksgiving!”

“I hope so,” Bart answered. “The folks will be worried. Wonder if Jim is waiting for us?”

“Not much! Jim’s too fond of his comfort to come out in such weather,” said Frank.

The boys found the widow had breakfast ready for them. She told them their best plan would be to go to Kirkville, which could be reached by the road leading from the cabin. From that village it was seven miles to Darewell.

“It’s going to be a long pull,” remarked Ned. “But I guess we can make it.”

“Let’s go out and see how the snow is,” suggested Bart.

They found though it was quite deep it was dry and soft so that tramping through it, and pulling the sled, would not be so great an exertion as it otherwise would have been.

“We’ll have to take it easy, and we may get home in time for dinner,” said Frank. “Pity, though, we can’t have some of our own game cooked for the feast, but we’ll not arrive in time.”

“I think we’ll leave most of it with her. What do you say?” asked Bart, and he nodded toward the cabin, outside of which the boys stood.

“Sure thing!” exclaimed Fenn. “I wish we could find her son for her.”

“Maybe we can, some day,” remarked Ned. “But we’d better go in to breakfast and then get started.”

“I hardly feel like taking all this,” Mrs. Perry said as she looked at the rabbits and turkeys the boys left. They had reserved a turkey and some rabbits each but left all the rest. “It hardly seems right,” she added.

“Why it’s no more than we owe you,” said Bart quickly. “We never could have stayed all night out in that blizzard in our tent. I don’t know what we would have done if it hadn’t been that we saw your house.”

“I only wish I had had better accommodations to offer you,” the widow said. “But we have nothing except what charity gives us. In the spring Jane hopes to get a place to work.”

“Perhaps we could help you,” suggested Ned. “My father knows a number of business men and he might get Jane a place in a store.”

“Oh, if he only would!” exclaimed the girl. “I do so want to help mother. I must take Willie’s place – until he comes back,” she added a little sadly.

“My poor boy,” Mrs. Perry exclaimed with a sigh. “I wonder if he will have as nice a Thanksgiving dinner as we will, thanks to the generosity of you boys.”

“We’ll hope so,” said Fenn. “So you haven’t any idea where he is?”

“Not the least. He used to say he wanted to see New York, as I suppose all boys do. But I hardly believe he is there. I wish I knew where he was. He should come home, pride or not, no matter if he hasn’t a cent.”

“New York,” murmured Ned. “I expect to go there soon. I might see Willie.”

“Oh! If you only could!” exclaimed Jane. “Tell him to come home at once. You can easily recognize him. He has a little red scar on his right cheek. He fell and cut himself on a stone when he was a baby.”

“New York is a big place,” said Mrs. Perry. “You are not very likely to see my boy. But if you should – tell him his mother prays for him – every night!” and, unable to keep her feelings in control the widow burst into tears.

It was rather an awkward moment for the boys, but little Mary saved the day.

“I’m going to New York!” she exclaimed. “I’m goin’ right now with these nice boys. They can pull me on their sled!” and she ran to get her bonnet and cloak.

This raised a laugh, and Mrs. Perry recovered her composure.

“Not now, dear,” she said. “Sometime, maybe,” and she smiled through her tears.

“Well, we must be going,” remarked Fenn. “We’re ever so much obliged to you.”

“Indeed, I am in your debt,” the widow replied. “If you are ever out this way again come and see us.”

“We will!” the boys cried as they put on their things and started off with the sled. It was lighter now that the load of camp food and much of the game was off, though the boys found it heavy enough before they had gone a couple of miles. But they were determined to reach home as soon as possible and kept on.

“Pretty tough, eh?” remarked Ned, after a silence of several minutes, as he nodded back in the direction of the cabin.

“You’re right,” replied Bart. “Glad we could do something to help ’em.”