Aunt Hannah and Seth

"A feller who would bother a good woman like Aunt Hannah deserves to be kicked. She's made up her mind to give me a chance jest 'cause she thinks it's something that ought'er be done; but I ain't goin' to play mean with her. It's lucky I happened to hear what was said, else I'd have jumped at the chance of stayin' when she told me I might."

At that moment Snip came into the barn eager to be petted by his master, and wearied with the fruitless chase after foolish and annoying birds.

"It's tough on you, little man, 'cause a home like this is jest what you've been achin' for, an' they'd be awful good to you," Seth whispered as he took the dog in his arms. "How would it be if I should sneak off an' leave you with 'em? I ought'er do it, Snippey dear; but it would most break my heart to give up the only family I've got. An' that's where I'm mighty mean! You'd have a great time here, an' by stickin' to me there ain't much show for fun, unless things take a terribly sudden turn."

Snip licked his master's chin by way of reply, and Seth pressed the little fellow yet more closely, saying with what was very like a sob:

"I can't do it, little man, I can't do it! You must stick to me, else I'll be the lonesomest feller in all the world. We'll hold on here a spell, an' then hustle once more. It must be we'll find somebody who'll give us work, providin' the detectives don't nab me."

Then he turned his attention once more to the task set him by Aunt Hannah, and Snip sat on the threshold of the door watching his master and snapping at the impudent sparrows, until Gladys came out with an invitation for the dog to escort her to a neighbor's house, where she was forced to go with a message.

"I'll take good care of him," she called to Seth, as Snip ran on joyously in advance, "and bring him back before you finish sweeping the barn."

"I'm not afraid of his comin' to any harm while you keep an eye on him; but I believe he's beginnin' to like you almost better'n he does me," Seth replied, with a shade of sorrow in his tone, whereat Gladys laughed merrily.

Then the boy continued his work with a will, and ample evidence of his labor was apparent when Aunt Hannah came out, looking very much like the fairy godmothers of "once upon a time" stories, despite the wrinkles on her placid face.

"It looks very neat," she said approvingly. "I never would have believed a boy could be so handy with a broom! Last spring I hired William Dean, the son of a neighbor, to tidy up the barn and the yard; but it looked worse when he had finished than before."

"Have I earned the breakfast Snip and I ate?" Seth asked, pleased with her praise.

"Indeed you have, child, although there was no reason for doing anything of the kind. When we share with those who are less fortunate, we are doing no more than our duty, an' I don't like to think that you feel it necessary to pay for a mouthful of food."

"It was the very nicest breakfast I ever had, Miss – Miss – "

"You may call me 'Aunt Hannah,' for I'm an aunt to all the children in the neighborhood, accordin' to their way of thinking. Would you be contented to stay here for a while, my dear?"

"Indeed I would!" was the emphatic reply, and then Seth added, remembering the conversation he had overheard: "That is, I would if I could; but Snip an' me have got to hunt for a chance to earn our livin', an' it won't do to think of loafin' here, even though it is such a fine place."

Aunt Hannah smiled kindly and said, with a certain show of determination, as if forcing herself to an unwelcome decision:

"You an' the little dog shall stay for a while, my boy, and perhaps you can find some kind of work nearabout; but if not, surely it won't increase my cost of living, for we'll have a garden, which is what I'm not able to attend to now I've grown so old. Why did you leave the city, my child?"

Had it not been for that "praying before breakfast" Seth would have invented some excuse for his flight; but now he could not bring himself, as he gazed into the kindly eyes, either to utter a deliberate falsehood or to make an equivocal reply.

"I'd like to tell you," he said hesitatingly, after a long pause, during which Aunt Hannah looked out across the meadow rather than at him. "I'd like to tell you, but I can't," he repeated.

"I don't believe you are a bad boy, Seth," she said mildly, but without glancing toward him.

The lad remained silent with downcast eyes, and when it seemed to him as if many minutes had passed, the little woman added:

"Perhaps you will tell me after we are better acquainted. Gladys declares, an' I've come quite to her way of thinking, that you should remain with us for a time. I don't believe you could find work such as would pay for your board and lodging, unless it was with an old woman like me, and so we're to consider you and Snip as members of the family."

Seth shook his head, feebly at first, for the temptation to accept the invitation was very great, and then decidedly, as if the decision he had arrived at could not be changed.

"Would you rather go away?" Aunt Hannah asked in surprise.

"No, I wouldn't!" Seth cried passionately, the tears coming dangerously near his eyelids. "I'd do anything in this world for the sake of havin' such a home as this; but all the same, Snip an' I can't stay to bother you. We'll leave when he comes back."

"Listen to me, my child," and now the little woman spoke with a degree of firmness which sounded strangely from one so mild, "you are not to go away this day, no matter what may be done later. We will talk about my plan after dinner, and then perhaps you'll feel like explaining why you think it necessary to go further in search of work after I have given you a chance to earn what you and the dog may need."

Then Gladys' voice was heard in the distance as she urged Snip on in his pursuit of a butterfly, and Aunt Hannah went quickly into the dwelling, leaving Seth gazing after her wistfully as he muttered:

"I never believed there was such a good woman in this world!"

CHAPTER IV.

THE FLIGHT

Neither Gladys nor Snip came into the barn immediately after their return, probably because the former had some report to make as to the message with which she had been entrusted, and Seth was left alone to turn over in his mind all that Aunt Hannah had said.

A very disagreeable half hour he spent in the conflict between what he believed to be his duty and his inclination.

It seemed that all his troubles would be at an end if he might remain in that peaceful place, as the little woman had suggested, and he knew full well that he could never hope to find as pleasant an abiding place.

As the matter presented itself to his mind, he was not at liberty to accept the generous invitation unless the story of why he left New York was first told; and once Aunt Hannah was aware that he had transgressed the law by passing counterfeit money, it seemed certain she would look upon him as a sinner too great for pardon.

He believed it was better to go without explanations than be utterly cast off by the little woman whom he was rapidly beginning to love, and, in addition, forfeit her friendship forever. So long as she could only guess at the reasons for his flight, she might think of him kindly, and, perhaps, in time, he would be able to prove that he was worthy of confidence.

"I'll come back when I'm a man, an' then she'll have to believe I didn't mean to do anything so terrible bad when I passed the lead nickel," he said to himself, in an effort to strengthen the resolution just made. "It would be mighty nice to live here, an' what a good time Snip could have!"

Then he tried to convince himself that his pet should be left behind; but the thought of going away from that charming home – which might have been his but for the carelessness in handling the counterfeit money – leaving behind the only friend he had known for many a long day, brought the tears to his eyes again.

"I'll have to take the poor little man with me, an' it'll come mighty rough on him!" he said with a sob. "I reckon he thinks this kind of fun, when he can chase butterflies an' birds to his heart's content, is goin' to last, an' he'll be dreadfully disappointed after we leave; but I couldn't get along without him!"

Gladys interrupted his mournful train of thought, and perhaps it was well, for the boy was rapidly working himself into a most melancholy frame of mind.

She and Snip came tearing into the barn as if there was no other aim in this life than enjoyment, and so startled the sorrowing Seth that he arose to his feet in something very nearly resembling alarm.

"If you jump like that I shall begin to think you are as nervous as Aunt Hannah," she cried with a merry laugh. "She insists that between Snip and me there will no longer be any peace for her, unless we sober down very suddenly; but do you know, Seth, that I've lived here with no other companion than the dear old woman so long, it seems as if some good fairy had sent this little fluff of white to make me happy. I had rather have him for a friend than all the children in the neighborhood, which isn't saying very much, in view of the fact that the two Dean boys and Malvinia Stubbs are the only people of nearabout my age in this section of the country."

"I believe Snip thinks as much of you as you do of him," Seth replied gloomily. "I never knew him to make friends with any one before; but perhaps that was because he saw only the fellers who liked to tease him. If I wasn't mighty mean, he'd stay here all the time."

"Of course he'll stay," Gladys cried as she tossed the tiny dog in the air while he gave vent to an imitation growl. "Aunt Hannah and I have arranged it without so much as asking your permission. You two are to live here; Snip's work is to enjoy himself with me, while you're to make a garden, the like of which won't be seen this side of New York. What do you think of settling down to being a farmer?"

"I'd like it mighty well, but it can't be done." And Seth gazed out through the open door, not daring to meet Miss Gladys' startled gaze.

"Wait till you've talked with Aunt Hannah," she exclaimed after the first burst of surprise had passed. "We've fixed everything, an' you'll find that there isn't a word for you to say."

"I have talked with her," Seth replied gloomily. "We'd both love to stay mighty well, but we can't."

"I'd like to know why"; and now Gladys was on her feet, looking sternly at the sorrowful guest. "Neither you nor Snip have got a home, an' here's one with the best woman who ever lived – that much I know to a certainty."

"I believe you, but it can't be done." And the boy walked to the other side of the barn as if to end the conversation.

Gladys looked after him for a moment in mingled surprise and petulance, and then, taking Snip in her arms, she walked straight into the house, leaving him seemingly more alone than ever.

During the remainder of the forenoon neither Aunt Hannah, Gladys, nor Snip came out of the door, and then the little woman summoned him to dinner.