Out For Business or Robert Frost's Strange Career

"Yes, I will come."

"Shall we take a walk together? I don't know anything of your village. You might show me something of it."

Robert hesitated, but he was naturally polite, and, though rather reluctantly, he walked through different parts of the village and pointed out the churches and the public library, the center school-house, and other buildings. Gradually they approached the outskirts of the village till they reached a house occupied by an eccentric old bachelor, who kept a large dog of an uncertain temper. As the two passed, the dog bounded from the yard and ran after them. This gave Robert a chance to judge of his step-father's courage.

James Talbot turned pale with fright, and started to run.

"Save me, Robert!" he called out, in tremulous accents. "Will he—will he bite?"

"I don't think so, Mr. Talbot," said Robert manfully, not exhibiting the least alarm. "What do you mean, Tige?" he continued sternly, addressing the dog.

He snatched a stout stick from the side of the road, and made threatening demonstrations.

The dog stood still, evidently cowed.

"I don't think he is dangerous, Mr. Talbot," Robert started to say, but he looked in vain for his step-father.

"Here I am, Robert," he heard in quavering accents.

James Talbot had managed, with an agility hardly to be expected of a man of forty-five, to climb into a tree by the roadside.

"I—I thought I should be safer here," he said, Robert wanted to laugh, but he was polite, and refrained.

"I—I hope he won't bite you."

"I'll risk it, sir."

"What a terrible situation! I don't dare to come down."

"I think you may, sir; I will protect you."

"How can you? You wouldn't be a match for a dog like that."

By this time Tiger had got over his fierce demonstrations, and seemed quite friendly.

"You see he has got over his fierceness. You had better come down."

"Do you really think it would be safe?"

"I am sure of it."

James Talbot got down from the tree cautiously, eyeing the dog askance.

"Now let us get away from here at once," he said nervously.

"Very well, sir."

They took the road for home, the dog making no hostile demonstrations.

"I—I was always afraid of dogs," said Talbot, half ashamed. "If it had been a man I wouldn't have cared." And then he began to tell Robert how he had once frightened a burglar from the house where he was lodging; but Robert didn't believe him. He felt contempt for his step-father as a coward.

CHAPTER III.

THE LITTLE PLOT AGAINST ROBERT

Robert resumed his place in the home circle. Between him and his step-father there was no cordiality, but formal politeness, though at times Mrs. Talbot tried to cultivate more friendly relations. He was somewhat ashamed of the cowardice he displayed during their walk through the village. It was partly because Robert had been a witness of his humiliation that he grew to dislike him the more and determined, when occasion offered, to get even with the boy. He was somewhat afraid of the spirited boy, but gradually plucked up courage for an encounter.

When Robert came home from school three days later, he found his step-father in the hall, standing on a chair, engaged in taking down the portrait of Mr. Frost.

"What are you doing, Mr. Talbot," he demanded indignantly.

Talbot turned his head, and answered curtly, "I apprehend that is my business."

"Are you going to take down my father's portrait?"

"That's exactly what I am going to do."

"Why?" asked Robert sternly.

"It is not fitting, now that your mother is my wife, that the picture of her first husband should hang here."

"Are you going to put yours in its place?"

"As soon as I have one painted."

Robert paused for a moment. After all, why should he interfere? His mother had transferred her love and allegiance to another husband, and his father's face would be a silent reproach to her.

"Did my mother authorize this removal?" he asked.

"Certainly."

"Then I have only one request to make, that the portrait be hung up in my chamber. I still revere the memory of my father."

"I have no objections. You can take it up to your room when you please."

The portrait was taken down, and Robert received it. He at once carried it upstairs. His heart swelled within him, and a look of bitterness came over his young face.

"I can't stand it long," he said to himself. "The sight of that man fills me with indignation and disgust. I would as soon see a serpent."

As yet, however, there had been no open outbreak, but it was to come very soon.

"May I ask a favor of you, James?" said his wife at the breakfast table.

"What is it, my dear?"

"I find that our woodpile needs replenishing. Will you stop at Mr. Webber's on your way to the post-office and ask him to call? I want to speak to him about sawing and splitting a new supply."

"My dear," said her husband, "let me make a suggestion. Why employ Mr. Webber when you have a strong, able-bodied boy in the house?"