Aunt Hannah and Seth

Seth entered the house much as a miserable culprit might have done, and, after making a toilet at the kitchen sink, sat down at the table in obedience to Aunt Hannah's instructions.

This time he half expected she would pray, and was not mistaken. Not having been taken by surprise, he heard every word, and his cheeks crimsoned with mingled shame and pleasure as she asked her Heavenly Father to bless and guide the homeless stranger who had come to them, inclining his heart to the right path.

Aunt Hannah did not use many words in asking the blessing; but to Seth each one was full of a meaning which could not be mistaken, and he knew she was pleading that he might be willing to confess his sins.

Perhaps if the good woman had asked at the conclusion of the prayer why he left New York, Seth would have told her everything; but no word was spoken on the subject, and by the time dinner had come to an end he was more firmly convinced than ever that she could not forgive him for having passed the counterfeit money.

Nothing was said regarding his departure or the proposition that he should become a member of the household; but Gladys gave the outlines of a journey she proposed making with Snip that afternoon, and the heavy-hearted boy understood that it was not her purpose to return until nightfall.

Then Aunt Hannah asked if he felt equal to the task of spading up a small piece of ground behind the barn, where she counted on making a garden, and he could do no less than agree to undertake the task.

Therefore did it seem to him as if he was in duty bound to remain at the farm during the remainder of that day at least; but there was in his mind the fact that he must continue his aimless journey that very night, or be willing to give a detailed account of his wrongdoing.

Immediately after the meal had been brought to a close Seth went out with the little woman to begin the work of making ready for a garden.

When she had explained what was necessary to be done he labored at the task with feverish energy, for it seemed to him as if the task must be concluded before he would be at liberty to leave the farm, and go he must, because each moment was it becoming more nearly impossible to bring himself to confess why he and Snip were fugitives.

Some of the neighbors called upon Aunt Hannah that afternoon, therefore she was forced to leave him alone after having described what must be done in order to make a garden of the unpromising looking land behind the barn; and he knew that Gladys and Snip would not return until time for supper, because the girl had plainly given him to understand as much during the conversation at the dinner-table.

His hands were blistered, and his back ached because of the unaccustomed labor; but the work was completed to the best of his ability before sunset, and then Aunt Hannah found time to inspect the result of his toil.

"I declare you have done as well as any man I could have hired, an' a good deal better than some!" she exclaimed, and a flush of joy overspread Seth's face as he arose with difficulty from the grass where he had thrown himself for a much-needed rest. "William Dean tried to do the same thing, but when he had finished the ground looked as if it had no more than been teased with a comb. You have turned it up till it is the same as ploughed, an' we'll have a famous garden, even though it is a bit late in the season."

"I'm glad you like it," the boy replied. "Of course I could do such work quicker after I'd tried my hand at it two or three times."

"I didn't expect you'd more than half finish it in one day, an' now there's nothing to be done but put in the seeds. We'll see to that in the morning. I must go after White-Face now, or we shall have a late supper. Have you seen anything of Gladys?"

"She hasn't been here. Say, why can't I get the cow?"

"I suppose you might, for she's gentle as a kitten; but you must be tired."

"I reckon it won't hurt me to walk from here to the pasture." And Seth started off at full speed, delighted with the opportunity to perform yet more work, for there was in his mind the thought that Aunt Hannah would think kindly of him after he was gone, if he showed himself willing to do whatsoever came in his way.

It did not seem exactly safe to walk deliberately up to that enormous beast of a cow; but since Gladys had done so he advanced without any great show of fear, and was surprised at discovering that she willingly obeyed the pressure on her horns.

He led her into the cleanly barn, threw some hay into the manger, and then fastened the chain around her neck, all the while wondering at his own bravery.

"Is there anything more for me to do?" he asked, as Aunt Hannah came out of the house with the three-legged stool and the glistening tin pail.

"You've earned a rest, my dear," the little woman said cheerily. "Sit down on the front porch and enjoy the sensation which comes to every one who has done a good day's work. We poor people can have what rich folks can't, or don't, which amounts to much the same thing."

Seth did not avail himself of this permission; but stood on the threshold of the "tie-up" watching the little woman force out the big streams of milk without apparent effort, until the desire to successfully perform the same task was strong upon him.

"Don't you think I could do that?" he asked timidly.

"I dare say you might, my child; there isn't much of a knack to it."

"Would you be willin' to let me try?"

"Of course you shall," and Aunt Hannah got up quickly from the stool. "Be gentle, and you'll have no trouble."

Seth failed at first; but after a few trials he was able to extract a thin stream of the foaming fluid, although White-Face did not appear well pleased with his experiments.

Then Aunt Hannah took the matter in hand, and when she had finished Seth carried the pail for her, arriving at the kitchen just as Gladys and Snip entered, both seemingly weary with their afternoon's frolic.

Bread, baked that forenoon, and warm milk, made up the evening meal, and again Aunt Hannah prayed for the stranger, much to his secret satisfaction.

While they were at the table the little woman said, in a low tone of authority, such as did not seem suited to her lips:

"You are to stay here until morning, Seth, and then we will have another talk. I'm an old-fashioned old maid, an' believe in early to bed an' early to rise, therefore we don't light lamp or candle in the summer-time, unless some of the neighbors loiter later than usual. You are to sleep in the room over the kitchen, my boy, and when we have finished supper I guess you'll be glad to lie down, for spading up a piece of grass land isn't easy work."

Understanding from these remarks that he was expected to retire without delay, Seth took Snip in his arms immediately the meal had come to a close, and said, as he stood waiting to be shown the way to his room:

"You've been mighty good to us, Miss – Aunt Hannah, an' I hope we'll have a chance to pay you back some day."

"You've done that this afternoon," Gladys cried laughingly. "Aunt Hannah has wanted that garden spot spaded ever since the snow went away, and the boys around here were too lazy to do it. All hands, including Snip, will have a share in the planting, and I wouldn't be surprised if we beat our neighbors, even though it is late for such work."

Seth would have liked to take leave of these two who had been so kind to him, for he was still determined to leave the house secretly as soon as was possible; but he did not dare say all that was in his mind lest his purpose be betrayed, and followed Aunt Hannah as she led the way to the room above the kitchen.

"You won't forget to say your prayers," she said, kissing him good-night, an act which brought the tears to his eyes; and Seth shook his head by way of promise, although never did he remember having done such a thing.

After undressing, and when Snip had been provided with a comfortable bed in the cushioned rocking-chair, Seth attempted to do as he had promised, and found it an exceedingly difficult task. There was in his heart both thanksgiving and sorrow, but he could not give words to either, and after several vain efforts he said reverentially:

"I hope Aunt Hannah will have just as snifty a time in this world as she deserves, for she's a dandy, if there ever was one!"

Then he crept between the lavender-scented sheets and gave himself up to the pleasure of gazing at his surroundings.

Never before had he seen such a room, so comfort-inviting and cleanly! There were two regular pillows on the bed, and each of them enclosed in a snowy white case which was most pleasing to the cheek, while the fragrant sheets seemed much too fine to be slept on.

Snip was quite as well satisfied with the surroundings as his master. The chair cushion was particularly soft, and he curled himself into a little ring with a sigh of content which told that if the question of leaving the Morse farm might be decided by him, he and his master would remain there all their lives.

Weary, as Seth was, he found it exceedingly difficult to prevent his eyes from closing in slumber; yet sleep was a luxury he could not indulge in at that time, lest he should not awaken at an hour when he might leave the dwelling without arousing the other inmates.

Perhaps it would have been wiser had he not undressed himself; but the temptation of getting into such a bed as Aunt Hannah had provided for his benefit was greater than he could withstand, therefore must he be exceedingly careful not to venture even upon the border of dreamland.

It is needless to make any attempt at trying to describe Seth's condition of mind, for it may readily be understood that his grief was great. More than once did he say to himself it would be better to tell Aunt Hannah all; but each time he understood, or believed he did, that by such a course he should not only be cutting himself off from all possibility of remaining longer at the farm, but would be forfeiting her friendship.

To his mind he would be forced to leave the farm if he told the story, and he could not remain without doing so; therefore it seemed wisest to run away, thus avoiding a most painful scene.

Then came the time when his eyelids rebelled against remaining open; and in order to save himself from falling asleep it seemed necessary to get out of bed.

Crouching by the window, after having dressed himself, he gazed out over the broad fields that were bathed by the moonlight, and pictured to himself the pleasure of viewing them night after night with the knowledge that they formed a portion of his home. And then, such a revery being almost painful, he nerved himself for what was to be done by taking Snip in his arms. The dog was sleeping soundly, and Seth whispered in a voice which was far from being steady:

"It's too bad, old man; but we can't help ourselves. You'll be sorry not to see Gladys when you wake; but you won't feel half so bad as I shall, 'cause I know what a slim chance there is of our ever strikin' another place like this."

Then he opened the door softly, still holding Snip in his arms.

Not a sound could be heard; he crept to the head of the stairs and listened intently.