“He said I mustn’t grieve, for that would grieve him,” murmured the boy, after a time, his eyes on the far-away hills. “And he said if I’d play, my mountains would come to me here, and I’d really be at home up there. He said in my violin were all those things I’m wanting–so bad!”
With a little choking breath, David tucked the note back into his pocket and reached for his violin.
Some time later, Mrs. Holly, dusting the chairs in the parlor, stopped her work, tiptoed to the door, and listened breathlessly. When she turned back, still later, to her work, her eyes were wet.
“I wonder why, when he plays, I always get to thinking of–John,” she sighed to herself, as she picked up her dusting-cloth.
After supper that night, Simeon Holly and his wife again sat on the kitchen porch, resting from the labor of the day. Simeon’s eyes were closed. His wife’s were on the dim outlines of the shed, the barn, the road, or a passing horse and wagon. David, sitting on the steps, was watching the moon climb higher and higher above the tree-tops. After a time he slipped into the house and came out with his violin.
At the first long-drawn note of sweetness, Simeon Holly opened his eyes and sat up, stern-lipped. But his wife laid a timid hand on his arm.
“Don’t say anything, please,” she entreated softly. “Let him play, just for to-night. He’s lonesome–poor little fellow.” And Simeon Holly, with a frowning shrug of his shoulders, sat back in his chair.
Later, it was Mrs. Holly herself who stopped the music by saying: “Come, David, it’s bedtime for little boys. I’ll go upstairs with you.” And she led the way into the house and lighted the candle for him.
Upstairs, in the little room over the kitchen, David found himself once more alone. As before, the little yellow-white nightshirt lay over the chair-back; and as before, Mrs. Holly had brushed away a tear as she had placed it there. As before, too, the big four-posted bed loomed tall and formidable in the corner. But this time the coverlet and sheet were turned back invitingly–Mrs. Holly had been much disturbed to find that David had slept on the floor the night before.
Once more, with his back carefully turned toward the impaled bugs and moths on the wall, David undressed himself. Then, before blowing out the candle, he went to the window kneeled down, and looked up at the moon through the trees.
David was sorely puzzled. He was beginning to wonder just what was to become of himself.
His father had said that out in the world there was a beautiful work for him to do; but what was it? How was he to find it? Or how was he to do it if he did find it? And another thing; where was he to live? Could he stay where he was? It was not home, to be sure; but there was the little room over the kitchen where he might sleep, and there was the kind woman who smiled at him sometimes with the sad, far-away look in her eyes that somehow hurt. He would not like, now, to leave her–with daddy gone.
There were the gold-pieces, too; and concerning these David was equally puzzled. What should he do with them? He did not need them–the kind woman was giving him plenty of food, so that he did not have to go to the store and buy; and there was nothing else, apparently, that he could use them for. They were heavy, and disagreeable to carry; yet he did not like to throw them away, nor to let anybody know that he had them: he had been called a thief just for one little piece, and what would they say if they knew he had all those others?
David remembered now, suddenly, that his father had said to hide them–to hide them until he needed them. David was relieved at once. Why had he not thought of it before? He knew just the place, too,–the little cupboard behind the chimney there in this very room! And with a satisfied sigh, David got to his feet, gathered all the little yellow disks from his pockets, and tucked them well out of sight behind the piles of books on the cupboard shelves. There, too, he hid the watch; but the little miniature of the angel-mother he slipped back into one of his pockets.
David’s second morning at the farmhouse was not unlike the first, except that this time, when Simeon Holly asked him to fill the woodbox, David resolutely ignored every enticing bug and butterfly, and kept rigorously to the task before him until it was done.
He was in the kitchen when, just before dinner, Perry Larson came into the room with a worried frown on his face.
“Mis’ Holly, would ye mind just steppin’ to the side door? There’s a woman an’ a little boy there, an’ somethin’ ails ’em. She can’t talk English, an’ I’m blest if I can make head nor tail out of the lingo she DOES talk. But maybe you can.”
“Why, Perry, I don’t know–” began Mrs. Holly. But she turned at once toward the door.
On the porch steps stood a very pretty, but frightened-looking young woman with a boy perhaps ten years old at her side. Upon catching sight of Mrs. Holly she burst into a torrent of unintelligible words, supplemented by numerous and vehement gestures.
Mrs. Holly shrank back, and cast appealing eyes toward her husband who at that moment had come across the yard from the barn.
“Simeon, can you tell what she wants?”
At sight of the newcomer on the scene, the strange woman began again, with even more volubility.
“No,” said Simeon Holly, after a moment’s scowling scrutiny of the gesticulating woman. “She’s talking French, I think. And she wants–something.”
“Gosh! I should say she did,” muttered Perry Larson. “An’ whatever ‘t is, she wants it powerful bad.”
“Are you hungry?” questioned Mrs. Holly timidly.
“Can’t you speak English at all?” demanded Simeon Holly.
The woman looked from one to the other with the piteous, pleading eyes of the stranger in the strange land who cannot understand or make others understand. She had turned away with a despairing shake of her head, when suddenly she gave a wild cry of joy and wheeled about, her whole face alight.
The Hollys and Perry Larson saw then that David had come out onto the porch and was speaking to the woman–and his words were just as unintelligible as the woman’s had been.
Mrs. Holly and Perry Larson stared. Simeon Holly interrupted David with a sharp–
“Do you, then, understand this woman, boy?”
“Why, yes! Didn’t you? She’s lost her way, and–” But the woman had hurried forward and was pouring her story into David’s ears.
At its conclusion David turned to find the look of stupefaction still on the others’ faces.
“Well, what does she want?” asked Simeon Holly crisply.
“She wants to find the way to Francois Lavelle’s house. He’s her husband’s brother. She came in on the train this morning. Her husband stopped off a minute somewhere, she says, and got left behind. He could talk English, but she can’t. She’s only been in this country a week. She came from France.”
“Gorry! Won’t ye listen ter that, now?” cried Perry Larson admiringly. “Reads her just like a book, don’t he? There’s a French family over in West Hinsdale–two of ’em, I think. What’ll ye bet ‘t ain’t one o’ them?”
“Very likely,” acceded Simeon Holly, his eyes bent disapprovingly on David’s face. It was plain to be seen that Simeon Holly’s attention was occupied by David, not the woman.
“An’, say, Mr. Holly,” resumed Perry Larson, a little excitedly, “you know I was goin’ over ter West Hinsdale in a day or two ter see Harlow about them steers. Why can’t I go this afternoon an’ tote her an’ the kid along?”
“Very well,” nodded Simeon Holly curtly, his eyes still on David’s face.
Perry Larson turned to the woman, and by a flourish of his arms and a jumble of broken English attempted to make her understand that he was to take her where she undoubtedly wished to go. The woman still looked uncomprehending, however, and David promptly came to the rescue, saying a few rapid words that quickly brought a flood of delighted understanding to the woman’s face.
“Can’t you ask her if she’s hungry?” ventured Mrs. Holly, then.
“She says no, thank you,” translated David, with a smile, when he had received his answer. “But the boy says he is, if you please.”
“Then, tell them to come into the kitchen,” directed Mrs. Holly, hurrying into the house.
“So you’re French, are you?” said Simeon Holly to David.
“French? Oh, no, sir,” smiled David, proudly. “I’m an American. Father said I was. He said I was born in this country.”
“But how comes it you can speak French like that?”
“Why, I learned it.” Then, divining that his words were still unconvincing, he added: “Same as I learned German and other things with father, out of books, you know. Didn’t you learn French when you were a little boy?”
“Humph!” vouchsafed Simeon Holly, stalking away without answering the question.
Immediately after dinner Perry Larson drove away with the woman and the little boy. The woman’s face was wreathed with smiles, and her last adoring glance was for David, waving his hand to her from the porch steps.
In the afternoon David took his violin and went off toward the hill behind the house for a walk. He had asked Mrs. Holly to accompany him, but she had refused, though she was not sweeping or dusting at the time. She was doing nothing more important, apparently, than making holes in a piece of white cloth, and sewing them up again with a needle and thread.
David had then asked Mr. Holly to go; but his refusal was even more strangely impatient than his wife’s had been.
“And why, pray, should I go for a useless walk now–or any time, for that matter?” he demanded sharply.
David had shrunk back unconsciously, though he had still smiled.
“Oh, but it wouldn’t be a useless walk, sir. Father said nothing was useless that helped to keep us in tune, you know.”
“In tune!”
“I mean, you looked as father used to look sometimes, when he felt out of tune. And he always said there was nothing like a walk to put him back again. I–I was feeling a little out of tune myself to-day, and I thought, by the way you looked, that you were, too. So I asked you to go to walk.”
“Humph! Well, I–That will do, boy. No impertinence, you understand!” And he had turned away in very obvious anger.
David, with a puzzled sorrow in his heart had started alone then, on his walk.
CHAPTER VII
“YOU’RE WANTED–YOU’RE WANTED!”
It was Saturday night, and the end of David’s third day at the farmhouse. Upstairs, in the hot little room over the kitchen, the boy knelt at the window and tried to find a breath of cool air from the hills. Downstairs on the porch Simeon Holly and his wife discussed the events of the past few days, and talked of what should be done with David.
“But what shall we do with him?” moaned Mrs. Holly at last, breaking a long silence that had fallen between them. “What can we do with him? Doesn’t anybody want him?”
“No, of course, nobody wants him,” retorted her husband relentlessly.
And at the words a small figure in a yellow-white nightshirt stopped short. David, violin in hand, had fled from the little hot room, and stood now just inside the kitchen door.
“Who can want a child that has been brought up in that heathenish fashion?” continued Simeon Holly. “According to his own story, even his father did nothing but play the fiddle and tramp through the woods day in and day out, with an occasional trip to the mountain village to get food and clothing when they had absolutely nothing to eat and wear. Of course nobody wants him!”
David, at the kitchen door, caught his breath chokingly. Then he sped across the floor to the back hall, and on through the long sheds to the hayloft in the barn–the place where his father seemed always nearest.
David was frightened and heartsick. NOBODY WANTED HIM. He had heard it with his own ears, so there was no mistake. What now about all those long days and nights ahead before he might go, violin in hand, to meet his father in that far-away country? How was he to live those days and nights if nobody wanted him? How was his violin to speak in a voice that was true and pure and full, and tell of the beautiful world, as his father had said that it must do? David quite cried aloud at the thought. Then he thought of something else that his father had said: “Remember this, my boy,–in your violin lie all the things you long for. You have only to play, and the broad skies of your mountain home will be over you, and the dear friends and comrades of your mountain forests will be all about you.” With a quick cry David raised his violin and drew the bow across the strings.
Back on the porch at that moment Mrs. Holly was saying:–
“Of course there’s the orphan asylum, or maybe the poorhouse–if they’d take him; but–Simeon,” she broke off sharply, “where’s that child playing now?”
Simeon listened with intent ears.
“In the barn, I should say.”
“But he’d gone to bed!”
“And he’ll go to bed again,” asserted Simeon Holly grimly, as he rose to his feet and stalked across the moonlit yard to the barn.
As before, Mrs. Holly followed him, and as before, both involuntarily paused just inside the barn door to listen. No runs and trills and rollicking bits of melody floated down the stairway to-night. The notes were long-drawn, and plaintively sweet; and they rose and swelled and died almost into silence while the man and the woman by the door stood listening.
They were back in the long ago–Simeon Holly and his wife–back with a boy of their own who had made those same rafters ring with shouts of laughter, and who, also, had played the violin–though not like this; and the same thought had come to each: “What if, after all, it were John playing all alone in the moonlight!”
It had not been the violin, in the end, that had driven John Holly from home. It had been the possibilities in a piece of crayon. All through childhood the boy had drawn his beloved “pictures” on every inviting space that offered,–whether it were the “best-room” wall-paper, or the fly leaf of the big plush album,–and at eighteen he had announced his determination to be an artist. For a year after that Simeon Holly fought with all the strength of a stubborn will, banished chalk and crayon from the house, and set the boy to homely tasks that left no time for anything but food and sleep–then John ran away.
That was fifteen years ago, and they had not seen him since; though two unanswered letters in Simeon Holly’s desk testified that perhaps this, at least, was not the boy’s fault.
It was not of the grown-up John, the willful boy and runaway son, however, that Simeon Holly and his wife were thinking, as they stood just inside the barn door; it was of Baby John, the little curly-headed fellow that had played at their knees, frolicked in this very barn, and nestled in their arms when the day was done.
Mrs. Holly spoke first–and it was not as she had spoken on the porch.
“Simeon,” she began tremulously, “that dear child must go to bed!” And she hurried across the floor and up the stairs, followed by her husband. “Come, David,” she said, as she reached the top; “it’s time little boys were asleep! Come!”
Her voice was low, and not quite steady. To David her voice sounded as her eyes looked when there was in them the far-away something that hurt. Very slowly he came forward into the moonlight, his gaze searching the woman’s face long and earnestly.
“And do you–want me?” he faltered.
The woman drew in her breath with a little sob. Before her stood the slender figure in the yellow-white gown–John’s gown. Into her eyes looked those other eyes, dark and wistful,–like John’s eyes. And her arms ached with emptiness.
“Yes, yes, for my very own–and for always!” she cried with sudden passion, clasping the little form close. “For always!”
And David sighed his content.
Simeon Holly’s lips parted, but they closed again with no words said. The man turned then, with a curiously baffled look, and stalked down the stairs.
On the porch long minutes later, when once more David had gone to bed, Simeon Holly said coldly to his wife:–
“I suppose you realize, Ellen, just what you’ve pledged yourself to, by that absurd outburst of yours in the barn to-night–and all because that ungodly music and the moonshine had gone to your head!”
“But I want the boy, Simeon. He–he makes me think of–John.”
Harsh lines came to the man’s mouth, but there was a perceptible shake in his voice as he answered:–
“We’re not talking of John, Ellen. We’re talking of this irresponsible, hardly sane boy upstairs. He can work, I suppose, if he’s taught, and in that way he won’t perhaps be a dead loss. Still, he’s another mouth to feed, and that counts now. There’s the note, you know,–it’s due in August.”
“But you say there’s money–almost enough for it–in the bank.” Mrs. Holly’s voice was anxiously apologetic.
“Yes, I know” vouchsafed the man. “But almost enough is not quite enough.”
“But there’s time–more than two months. It isn’t due till the last of August, Simeon.”
“I know, I know. Meanwhile, there’s the boy. What are you going to do with him?”
“Why, can’t you use him–on the farm–a little?”
“Perhaps. I doubt it, though,” gloomed the man. “One can’t hoe corn nor pull weeds with a fiddle-bow–and that’s all he seems to know how to handle.”
“But he can learn–and he does play beautifully,” murmured the woman; whenever before had Ellen Holly ventured to use words of argument with her husband, and in extenuation, too, of an act of her own!
There was no reply except a muttered “Humph!” under the breath. Then Simeon Holly rose and stalked into the house.
The next day was Sunday, and Sunday at the farmhouse was a thing of stern repression and solemn silence. In Simeon Holly’s veins ran the blood of the Puritans, and he was more than strict as to what he considered right and wrong. When half-trained for the ministry, ill-health had forced him to resort to a less confining life, though never had it taken from him the uncompromising rigor of his views. It was a distinct shock to him, therefore, on this Sunday morning to be awakened by a peal of music such as the little house had never known before. All the while that he was thrusting his indignant self into his clothing, the runs and turns and crashing chords whirled about him until it seemed that a whole orchestra must be imprisoned in the little room over the kitchen, so skillful was the boy’s double stopping. Simeon Holly was white with anger when he finally hurried down the hall and threw open David’s bedroom door.
“Boy, what do you mean by this?” he demanded.
David laughed gleefully.
“And didn’t you know?” he asked. “Why, I thought my music would tell you. I was so happy, so glad! The birds in the trees woke me up singing, ‘You’re wanted–you’re wanted;’ and the sun came over the hill there and said, ‘You’re wanted–you’re wanted;’ and the little tree-branch tapped on my window pane and said “You’re wanted–you’re wanted!’ And I just had to take up my violin and tell you about it!”
“But it’s Sunday–the Lord’s Day,” remonstrated the man sternly.
David stood motionless, his eyes questioning.
“Are you quite a heathen, then?” catechised the man sharply. “Have they never told you anything about God, boy?”
“Oh, ‘God’?–of course,” smiled David, in open relief. “God wraps up the buds in their little brown blankets, and covers the roots with–“
“I am not talking about brown blankets nor roots,” interrupted the man severely. “This is God’s day, and as such should be kept holy.”
” ‘Holy’?”
“Yes. You should not fiddle nor laugh nor sing.”
“But those are good things, and beautiful things,” defended David, his eyes wide and puzzled.
“In their place, perhaps,” conceded the man, stiffly. “but not on God’s day.”
“You mean–He wouldn’t like them?”
“Yes.”
“Oh!”–and David’s face cleared. “That’s all right, then. Your God isn’t the same one, sir, for mine loves all beautiful things every day in the year.”
There was a moment’s silence. For the first time in his life Simeon Holly found himself without words.
“We won’t talk of this any more, David,” he said at last; “but we’ll put it another way–I don’t wish you to play your fiddle on Sunday. Now, put it up till to-morrow.” And he turned and went down the hall.
Breakfast was a very quiet meal that morning. Meals were never things of hilarious joy at the Holly farmhouse, as David had already found out; but he had not seen one before quite so somber as this. It was followed immediately by a half-hour of Scripture-reading and prayer, with Mrs. Holly and Perry Larson sitting very stiff and solemn in their chairs, while Mr. Holly read. David tried to sit very stiff and solemn in his chair, also; but the roses at the window were nodding their heads and beckoning; and the birds in the bushes beyond were sending to him coaxing little chirps of “Come out, come out!” And how could one expect to sit stiff and solemn in the face of all that, particularly when one’s fingers were tingling to take up the interrupted song of the morning and tell the whole world how beautiful it was to be wanted!
Yet David sat very still,–or as still as he could sit,–and only the tapping of his foot, and the roving of his wistful eyes told that his mind was not with Farmer Holly and the Children of Israel in their wanderings in the wilderness.
After the devotions came an hour of subdued haste and confusion while the family prepared for church. David had never been to church. He asked Perry Larson what it was like; but Perry only shrugged his shoulders and said, to nobody, apparently:–“
Sugar! Won’t ye hear that, now?”–which to David was certainly no answer at all.
That one must be spick and span to go to church, David soon found out–never before had he been so scrubbed and brushed and combed. There was, too, brought out for him to wear a little clean white blouse and a red tie, over which Mrs. Holly cried a little as she had over the nightshirt that first evening.
The church was in the village only a quarter of a mile away; and in due time David, open-eyed and interested, was following Mr. and Mrs. Holly down its long center aisle. The Hollys were early as usual, and service had not begun. Even the organist had not taken his seat beneath the great pipes of blue and gold that towered to the ceiling.
It was the pride of the town–that organ. It had been given by a great man (out in the world) whose birthplace the town was. More than that, a yearly donation from this same great man paid for the skilled organist who came every Sunday from the city to play it. To-day, as the organist took his seat, he noticed a new face in the Holly pew, and he almost gave a friendly smile as he met the wondering gaze of the small boy there; then he lost himself, as usual, in the music before him.
Down in the Holly pew the small boy held his breath. A score of violins were singing in his ears; and a score of other instruments that he could not name, crashed over his head, and brought him to his feet in ecstasy. Before a detaining hand could stop him, he was out in the aisle, his eyes on the blue-and-gold pipes from which seemed to come those wondrous sounds. Then his gaze fell on the man and on the banks of keys; and with soft steps he crept along the aisle and up the stairs to the organ-loft.
For long minutes he stood motionless, listening; then the music died into silence and the minister rose for the invocation. It was a boy’s voice, and not a man’s, however, that broke the pause.
“Oh, sir, please,” it said, “would you–could you teach ME to do that?”
The organist choked over a cough, and the soprano reached out and drew David to her side, whispering something in his ear. The minister, after a dazed silence, bowed his head; while down in the Holly pew an angry man and a sorely mortified woman vowed that, before David came to church again, he should have learned some things.
CHAPTER VIII
THE PUZZLING “DOS” AND “DON’TS”
With the coming of Monday arrived a new life for David–a curious life full of “don’ts” and “dos.” David wondered sometimes why all the pleasant things were “don’ts” and all the unpleasant ones “dos.” Corn to be hoed, weeds to be pulled, woodboxes to be filled; with all these it was “do this, do this, do this.” But when it came to lying under the apple trees, exploring the brook that ran by the field, or even watching the bugs and worms that one found in the earth–all these were “don’ts.”
As to Farmer Holly–Farmer Holly himself awoke to some new experiences that Monday morning. One of them was the difficulty in successfully combating the cheerfully expressed opinion that weeds were so pretty growing that it was a pity to pull them up and let them all wither and die. Another was the equally great difficulty of keeping a small boy at useful labor of any sort in the face of the attractions displayed by a passing cloud, a blossoming shrub, or a bird singing on a tree-branch.
In spite of all this, however, David so evidently did his best to carry out the “dos” and avoid the “don’ts,” that at four o’clock that first Monday he won from the stern but would-be-just Farmer Holly his freedom for the rest of the day; and very gayly he set off for a walk. He went without his violin, as there was the smell of rain in the air; but his face and his step and the very swing of his arms were singing (to David) the joyous song of the morning before. Even yet, in spite of the vicissitudes of the day’s work, the whole world, to David’s homesick, lonely little heart, was still caroling that blessed “You’re wanted, you’re wanted, you’re wanted!”
And then he saw the crow.
David knew crows. In his home on the mountain he had had several of them for friends. He had learned to know and answer their calls. He had learned to admire their wisdom and to respect their moods and tempers. He loved to watch them. Especially he loved to see the great birds cut through the air with a wide sweep of wings, so alive, so gloriously free!
But this crow–
This crow was not cutting through the air with a wide sweep of wing. It was in the middle of a cornfield, and it was rising and falling and flopping about in a most extraordinary fashion. Very soon David, running toward it, saw why. By a long leather strip it was fastened securely to a stake in the ground.
“Oh, oh, oh!” exclaimed David, in sympathetic consternation. “Here, you just wait a minute. I’ll fix it.”
With confident celerity David whipped out his jackknife to cut the thong; but he found then that to “fix it” and to say he would “fix it” were two different matters.
The crow did not seem to recognize in David a friend. He saw in him, apparently, but another of the stone-throwing, gun-shooting, torturing humans who were responsible for his present hateful captivity. With beak and claw and wing, therefore, he fought this new evil that had come presumedly to torment; and not until David had hit upon the expedient of taking off his blouse, and throwing it over the angry bird, could the boy get near enough to accomplish his purpose. Even then David had to leave upon the slender leg a twist of leather.
A moment later, with a whir of wings and a frightened squawk that quickly turned into a surprised caw of triumphant rejoicing, the crow soared into the air and made straight for a distant tree-top. David, after a minute’s glad surveying of his work, donned his blouse again and resumed his walk.
It was almost six o’clock when David got back to the Holly farmhouse. In the barn doorway sat Perry Larson.
“Well, sonny,” the man greeted him cheerily, “did ye get yer weedin’ done?”
“Y–yes,” hesitated David. “I got it done; but I didn’t like it.”
” ‘T is kinder hot work.”
“Oh, I didn’t mind that part,” returned David. “What I didn’t like was pulling up all those pretty little plants and letting them die.”
“Weeds–‘pretty little plants’!” ejaculated the man. “Well, I’ll be jiggered!”
“But they WERE pretty,” defended David, reading aright the scorn in Perry Larson’s voice. “The very prettiest and biggest there were, always. Mr. Holly showed me, you know,–and I had to pull them up.”
“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” muttered Perry Larson again.
“But I’ve been to walk since. I feel better now.”
“Oh, ye do!”
“Oh, yes. I had a splendid walk. I went ‘way up in the woods on the hill there. I was singing all the time–inside, you know. I was so glad Mrs. Holly–wanted me. You know what it is, when you sing inside.”
Perry Larson scratched his head.
“Well, no, sonny, I can’t really say I do,” he retorted. “I ain’t much on singin’.”
“Oh, but I don’t mean aloud. I mean inside. When you’re happy, you know.”
“When I’m–oh!” The man stopped and stared, his mouth falling open. Suddenly his face changed, and he grinned appreciatively. “Well, if you ain’t the beat ’em, boy! ‘T is kinder like singin’–the way ye feel inside, when yer ‘specially happy, ain’t it? But I never thought of it before.”
“Oh, yes. Why, that’s where I get my songs–inside of me, you know–that I play on my violin. And I made a crow sing, too. Only HE sang outside.”
“SING–A CROW!” scoffed the man.” Shucks! It’ll take more ‘n you ter make me think a crow can sing, my lad.”
“But they do, when they’re happy,” maintained the boy. “Anyhow, it doesn’t sound the same as it does when they’re cross, or plagued over something. You ought to have heard this one to-day. He sang. He was so glad to get away. I let him loose, you see.”
“You mean, you CAUGHT a crow up there in them woods?” The man’s voice was skeptical.
“Oh, no, I didn’t catch it. But somebody had, and tied him up. And he was so unhappy!”
“A crow tied up in the woods!”
“Oh, I didn’t find THAT in the woods. It was before I went up the hill at all.”
“A crow tied up–Look a-here, boy, what are you talkin’ about? Where was that crow?” Perry Larson’s whole self had become suddenly alert.
“In the field ‘Way over there. And somebody–“
“The cornfield! Jingo! Boy, you don’t mean you touched THAT crow?”
“Well, he wouldn’t let me TOUCH him,” half-apologized David. “He was so afraid, you see. Why, I had to put my blouse over his head before he’d let me cut him loose at all.”
“Cut him loose!” Perry Larson sprang to his feet. “You did n’t–you DIDn’t let that crow go!”
David shrank back.
“Why, yes; he WANTED to go. He–” But the man before him had fallen back despairingly to his old position.
“Well, sir, you’ve done it now. What the boss’ll say, I don’t know; but I know what I’d like ter say to ye. I was a whole week, off an’ on, gettin’ hold of that crow, an’ I wouldn’t have got him at all if I hadn’t hid half the night an’ all the mornin’ in that clump o’ bushes, watchin’ a chance ter wing him, jest enough an’ not too much. An’ even then the job wa’n’t done. Let me tell yer, ‘t wa’n’t no small thing ter get him hitched. I’m wearin’ the marks of the rascal’s beak yet. An’ now you’ve gone an’ let him go–just like that,” he finished, snapping his fingers angrily.
In David’s face there was no contrition. There was only incredulous horror.
“You mean, YOU tied him there, on purpose?”
“Sure I did!”
“But he didn’t like it. Couldn’t you see he didn’t like it?” cried David.
“Like it! What if he didn’t? I didn’t like ter have my corn pulled up, either. See here, sonny, you no need ter look at me in that tone o’ voice. I didn’t hurt the varmint none ter speak of–ye see he could fly, didn’t ye?–an’ he wa’n’t starvin’. I saw to it that he had enough ter eat an’ a dish o’ water handy. An’ if he didn’t flop an’ pull an’ try ter get away he needn’t ‘a’ hurt hisself never. I ain’t ter blame for what pullin’ he done.”
“But wouldn’t you pull if you had two big wings that could carry you to the top of that big tree there, and away up, up in the sky, where you could talk to the stars?–wouldn’t you pull if somebody a hundred times bigger’n you came along and tied your leg to that post there?”
The man, Perry, flushed an angry red.
“See here, sonny, I wa’n’t askin’ you ter do no preachin’. What I did ain’t no more’n any man ’round here does–if he’s smart enough ter catch one. Rigged-up broomsticks ain’t in it with a live bird when it comes ter drivin’ away them pesky, thievin’ crows. There ain’t a farmer ’round here that hain’t been green with envy, ever since I caught the critter. An’ now ter have you come along an’ with one flip o’yer knife spile it all, I–Well, it jest makes me mad, clean through! That’s all.”
“You mean, you tied him there to frighten away the other crows?”
“Sure! There ain’t nothin’ like it.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“Well, you’d better be. But that won’t bring back my crow!”
David’s face brightened.
“No, that’s so, isn’t it? I’m glad of that. I was thinking of the crows, you see. I’m so sorry for them! Only think how we’d hate to be tied like that–” But Perry Larson, with a stare and an indignant snort, had got to his feet, and was rapidly walking toward the house.
Very plainly, that evening, David was in disgrace, and it took all of Mrs. Holly’s tact and patience, and some private pleading, to keep a general explosion from wrecking all chances of his staying longer at the farmhouse. Even as it was, David was sorrowfully aware that he was proving to be a great disappointment so soon, and his violin playing that evening carried a moaning plaintiveness that would have been very significant to one who knew David well.
Very faithfully, the next day, the boy tried to carry out all the “dos,” and though he did not always succeed, yet his efforts were so obvious, that even the indignant owner of the liberated crow was somewhat mollified; and again Simeon Holly released David from work at four o’clock.
Alas, for David’s peace of mind, however; for on his walk to-day, though he found no captive crow to demand his sympathy, he found something else quite as heartrending, and as incomprehensible.
It was on the edge of the woods that he came upon two boys, each carrying a rifle, a dead squirrel, and a dead rabbit. The threatened rain of the day before had not materialized, and David had his violin. He had been playing softly when he came upon the boys where the path entered the woods.
“Oh!” At sight of the boys and their burden David gave an involuntary cry, and stopped playing.
The boys, scarcely less surprised at sight of David and his violin, paused and stared frankly.
“It’s the tramp kid with his fiddle,” whispered one to the other huskily.
David, his grieved eyes on the motionless little bodies in the boys’ hands, shuddered.
“Are they–dead, too?”
The bigger boy nodded self-importantly.
“Sure. We just shot ’em–the squirrels. Ben here trapped the rabbits.” He paused, manifestly waiting for the proper awed admiration to come into David’s face.
But in David’s startled eyes there was no awed admiration, there was only disbelieving horror.
“You mean, you SENT them to the far country?”
“We–what?”
“Sent them. Made them go yourselves–to the far country?”
The younger boy still stared. The older one grinned disagreeably.
“Sure,” he answered with laconic indifference. “We sent ’em to the far country, all right.”
“But–how did you know they WANTED to go?”
“Wanted–Eh?” exploded the big boy. Then he grinned again, still more disagreeably. “Well, you see, my dear, we didn’t ask ’em,” he gibed.
Real distress came into David’s face.
“Then you don’t know at all. And maybe they DIDn’t want to go. And if they didn’t, how COULD they go singing, as father said? Father wasn’t sent. He WENT. And he went singing. He said he did. But these–How would YOU like to have somebody come along and send YOU to the far country, without even knowing if you wanted to go?”
There was no answer. The boys, with a growing fear in their eyes, as at sight of something inexplicable and uncanny, were sidling away; and in a moment they were hurrying down the hill, not, however, without a backward glance or two, of something very like terror.
David, left alone, went on his way with troubled eyes and a thoughtful frown.
David often wore, during those first few days at the Holly farmhouse, a thoughtful face and a troubled frown. There were so many, many things that were different from his mountain home. Over and over, as those first long days passed, he read his letter until he knew it by heart–and he had need to. Was he not already surrounded by things and people that were strange to him?
And they were so very strange–these people! There were the boys and men who rose at dawn–yet never paused to watch the sun flood the world with light; who stayed in the fields all day–yet never raised their eyes to the big fleecy clouds overhead; who knew birds only as thieves after fruit and grain, and squirrels and rabbits only as creatures to be trapped or shot. The women–they were even more incomprehensible. They spent the long hours behind screened doors and windows, washing the same dishes and sweeping the same floors day after day. They, too, never raised their eyes to the blue sky outside, nor even to the crimson roses that peeped in at the window. They seemed rather to be looking always for dirt, yet not pleased when they found it–especially if it had been tracked in on the heel of a small boy’s shoe!
More extraordinary than all this to David, however, was the fact that these people regarded HIM, not themselves, as being strange. As if it were not the most natural thing in the world to live with one’s father in one’s home on the mountain-top, and spend one’s days trailing through the forest paths, or lying with a book beside some babbling little stream! As if it were not equally natural to take one’s violin with one at times, and learn to catch upon the quivering strings the whisper of the winds through the trees! Even in winter, when the clouds themselves came down from the sky and covered the earth with their soft whiteness,–even then the forest was beautiful; and the song of the brook under its icy coat carried a charm and mystery that were quite wanting in the chattering freedom of summer. Surely there was nothing strange in all this, and yet these people seemed to think there was!
CHAPTER IX
JOE
Day by day, however, as time passed, David diligently tried to perform the “dos” and avoid the “don’ts”; and day by day he came to realize how important weeds and woodboxes were, if he were to conform to what was evidently Farmer Holly’s idea of “playing in, tune” in this strange new Orchestra of Life in which he found himself.
But, try as he would, there was yet an unreality about it all, a persistent feeling of uselessness and waste, that would not be set aside. So that, after all, the only part of this strange new life of his that seemed real to him was the time that came after four o’clock each day, when he was released from work.
And how full he filled those hours! There was so much to see, so much to do. For sunny days there were field and stream and pasture land and the whole wide town to explore. For rainy days, if he did not care to go to walk, there was his room with the books in the chimney cupboard. Some of them David had read before, but many of them he had not. One or two were old friends; but not so “Dare Devil Dick,” and “The Pirates of Pigeon Cove” (which he found hidden in an obscure corner behind a loose board). Side by side stood “The Lady of the Lake,” “Treasure Island,” and “David Copperfield”; and coverless and dogeared lay “Robinson Crusoe,” “The Arabian Nights,” and “Grimm’s Fairy Tales.” There were more, many more, and David devoured them all with eager eyes. The good in them he absorbed as he absorbed the sunshine; the evil he cast aside unconsciously–it rolled off, indeed, like the proverbial water from the duck’s back.
David hardly knew sometimes which he liked the better, his imaginative adventures between the covers of his books or his real adventures in his daily strolls. True, it was not his mountain home–this place in which he found himself; neither was there anywhere his Silver Lake with its far, far-reaching sky above. More deplorable yet, nowhere was there the dear father he loved so well. But the sun still set in rose and gold, and the sky, though small, still carried the snowy sails of its cloud-boats; while as to his father–his father had told him not to grieve, and David was trying very hard to obey.
With his violin for company David started out each day, unless he elected to stay indoors with his books. Sometimes it was toward the village that he turned his steps; sometimes it was toward the hills back of the town. Whichever way it was, there was always sure to be something waiting at the end for him and his violin to discover, if it was nothing more than a big white rose in bloom, or a squirrel sitting by the roadside.
Very soon, however, David discovered that there was something to be found in his wanderings besides squirrels and roses; and that was–people. In spite of the strangeness of these people, they were wonderfully interesting, David thought. And after that he turned his steps more and more frequently toward the village when four o’clock released him from the day’s work.
At first David did not talk much to these people. He shrank sensitively from their bold stares and unpleasantly audible comments. He watched them with round eyes of wonder and interest, however,–when he did not think they were watching him. And in time he came to know not a little about them and about the strange ways in which they passed their time.
There was the greenhouse man. It would be pleasant to spend one’s day growing plants and flowers–but not under that hot, stifling glass roof, decided David. Besides, he would not want always to pick and send away the very prettiest ones to the city every morning, as the greenhouse man did.
There was the doctor who rode all day long behind the gray mare, making sick folks well. David liked him, and mentally vowed that he himself would be a doctor sometime. Still, there was the stage-driver–David was not sure but he would prefer to follow this man’s profession for a life-work; for in his, one could still have the freedom of long days in the open, and yet not be saddened by the sight of the sick before they had been made well–which was where the stage-driver had the better of the doctor, in David’s opinion. There were the blacksmith and the storekeepers, too, but to these David gave little thought or attention.
Though he might not know what he did want to do, he knew very well what he did not. All of which merely goes to prove that David was still on the lookout for that great work which his father had said was waiting for him out in the world.
Meanwhile David played his violin. If he found a crimson rambler in bloom in a door-yard, he put it into a little melody of pure delight–that a woman in the house behind the rambler heard the music and was cheered at her task, David did not know. If he found a kitten at play in the sunshine, he put it into a riotous abandonment of tumbling turns and trills–that a fretful baby heard and stopped its wailing, David also did not know. And once, just because the sky was blue and the air was sweet, and it was so good to be alive, David lifted his bow and put it all into a rapturous paean of ringing exultation–that a sick man in a darkened chamber above the street lifted his head, drew in his breath, and took suddenly a new lease of life, David still again did not know. All of which merely goes to prove that David had perhaps found his work and was doing it–although yet still again David did not know.
It was in the cemetery one afternoon that David came upon the Lady in Black. She was on her knees putting flowers on a little mound before her. She looked up as David approached. For a moment she gazed wistfully at him; then as if impelled by a hidden force, she spoke.
“Little boy, who are you?”
“I’m David.”
“David! David who? Do you live here? I’ve seen you here before.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve been here quite a lot of times.” Purposely the boy evaded the questions. David was getting tired of questions–especially these questions.
“And have you–lost one dear to you, little boy?”
“Lost some one?”
“I mean–is your father or mother–here?”
“Here? Oh, no, they aren’t here. My mother is an angel-mother, and my father has gone to the far country. He is waiting for me there, you know.”
“But, that’s the same–that is–” She stopped helplessly, bewildered eyes on David’s serene face. Then suddenly a great light came to her own. “Oh, little boy, I wish I could understand that–just that,” she breathed. “It would make it so much easier–if I could just remember that they aren’t here–that they’re WAITING–over there!”
But David apparently did not hear. He had turned and was playing softly as he walked away. Silently the Lady in Black knelt, listening, looking after him. When she rose some time later and left the cemetery, the light on her face was still there, deeper, more glorified.
Toward boys and girls–especially boys–of his own age, David frequently turned wistful eyes. David wanted a friend, a friend who would know and understand; a friend who would see things as he saw them, who would understand what he was saying when he played. It seemed to David that in some boy of his own age he ought to find such a friend. He had seen many boys–but he had not yet found the friend. David had begun to think, indeed, that of all these strange beings in this new life of his, boys were the strangest.
They stared and nudged each other unpleasantly when they came upon him playing. They jeered when he tried to tell them what he had been playing. They had never heard of the great Orchestra of Life, and they fell into most disconcerting fits of laughter, or else backed away as if afraid, when he told them that they themselves were instruments in it, and that if they did not keep themselves in tune, there was sure to be a discord somewhere.
Then there were their games and frolics. Such as were played with balls, bats, and bags of beans, David thought he would like very much. But the boys only scoffed when he asked them to teach him how to play. They laughed when a dog chased a cat, and they thought it very, very funny when Tony, the old black man, tripped on the string they drew across his path. They liked to throw stones and shoot guns, and the more creeping, crawling, or flying creatures that they could send to the far country, the happier they were, apparently. Nor did they like it at all when he asked them if they were sure all these creeping, crawling, flying creatures wanted to leave this beautiful world and to be made dead. They sneered and called him a sissy. David did not know what a sissy was; but from the way they said it, he judged it must be even worse to be a sissy than to be a thief.
And then he discovered Joe.
David had found himself in a very strange, very unlovely neighborhood that afternoon. The street was full of papers and tin cans, the houses were unspeakably forlorn with sagging blinds and lack of paint. Untidy women and blear-eyed men leaned over the dilapidated fences, or lolled on mud-tracked doorsteps. David, his shrinking eyes turning from one side to the other, passed slowly through the street, his violin under his arm. Nowhere could David find here the tiniest spot of beauty to “play.” He had reached quite the most forlorn little shanty on the street when the promise in his father’s letter occurred to him. With a suddenly illumined faced an.othat,” suy thooihesed his lunt, he put i leitre de. Art wasurns asquirrsesng bliack m was lite tquestiIeasiy. the I cot or whictheavighborhsiy. theNEED oneSEEng by was save this bhim hojusay. Theyof lifelayingwhile founque”Whar i”Butal” Hintriavid tselveher,hat,” ver th Joe.
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st’teDavis!a sissyecfded hborhed
y. Davidan e a fr, a avtiwiswas ss wbe ered ana s,ier a aeco sbotse r o” ,ughtebe ather,etelconclud d, snebon ths “Lfneiiwas;cund ehNos rves ted not Ipromisdountye hh “Lestra was s, ehNos raffordwer
It wawd dofg,u oifwhd ilw hsbeehifeewhicgiveofs wnd efdo,btriggll ohindeavid cund ify ayfs wnd ecabbed-trappSoyght of lifwhd nht coihingse stilthas ss wMro. HollyButpbnprngfe-wsupp peu,muptripp foccatesedofileoysnexe ayoih putsco Glaiheie’dqomewMro. Holly, Nenlg e putnd kvtchin tavid hle mergas swas; Nowhpbnprngwforlboorladd reet wasctennrow
std Davnut .ou knWhy,krsteps.not k
It wawautifdoeswndmisd”
?”y
d dem
sed not “Ts yhatfe-wscoho
stBatha,” smilhadof lifwhppcon not “Fe-wscoho s–ere!buhen d Davnut r
stctennrowdon’ wbelost puge
tr Tn yhatenle!tr th”Y
“Iwight hbgykn e aI whencotm
thhad aFora,” noddof, decidomew”P
Fora! Wit, anaI yted?”yremonbtrinof,Mro. Holly, Ie’sling,aggigningsede”Tborhdoesn’ wm”
mtot k
th anetere–thStha was ui
Ieemed’lee ctgouoy odIt wawaud
haunn tirehdomew”Y
t don’ wm”
mtot kI CAN’Teterencotm putsco o
stBatha,tdoy
t?ewWia,tMro. Holly,tn yhathungry!tsco o stBathakn e aTn y don’ m whve
haunee Davconeeatw Bathakoay tsoqrot kwee hegvtim heghboneroicreatr Tn tu’lee oifleft tripp ftre deestraedhow Wia,tanaYOUeroid fhungry,leughtn’ w theanths
“bittlsnebon t–tr there!Mro. Hollygouoy odIle forlimde tairas sgeedurd not “Ts stilts stilThey nmugh. Run losen Oasctoe ek th aneterecund qrkem–IemwGLADiholhve
dea”y
d fd bhei,daglimde terino sthemptightdreveiwas; eemed’lee ctghind.aten wasonec, d ui tfldulitu forlwhichhed , a r couyregardas sh,riomewNhey ndt styy. DMro. Hollygthemptightthed.t eemed’legsthrooihyereo!but Glaiheies;saurwsanddireprngwhiregulyilirtw Shpeoawd htirndersthts stood t,muptrih playoihads wnd ehNos ,etelttendthe acleta It n tsyf
La cleta
Iadount, moth
nvariantaIt n tsywashd m y ofchoosbeeqomewere!avtiilw hstoed.d!but Glaiheie n loraddireof lifnmHeih putoted . Vtralunquvid ap tc, a
Ieenilianoand mdirectgsede friennd sehime!but Hollygd tmhNos rtheewkweekshe strhetavid hles Lad dofg,but Rhen .ou k friendich theeenilithe Davcoh.vyllagtghind.dho, st lstct
ligh s rhadehborh, a in soele qro” , aiasave this brhad, smoe t, uwhitehoot gfio qrTwoyhugt gganett wushads y odI forlolamas unaedurtiumspmaukhadeet wue pr arm.ih pmHe ha mfgwas; Nopma hm wiav walkBeyo st’te ehoos!a sissiqontavid ,h
tcgan atweenerofden tstodas slawnsyf Lfluttin thshrub
“ltodas se lheargvid y olopy sr a hyllw Wirm.ih lhad h,!a sissy. Davidight,saurwNowhproc. dhadun coihingng a t sprngwhifagg s r Fe-wst
ligse oe aclimbeadeet olopy
Iod awc ,hh played h, mrtehos violh pl tm;nd re!but white rhader couyad demseloralizn thdyoterngyou hegiim uwhehimsby-p ta mfhe dibut gghad ttaemptahesehoot glurodIle gh sexhaom.ihstctee n lhy addep torves ted not Hendeemed re!ightnw H,hed , a orhSy, v-cheed, HvesdaloButyne a”shht hadcajus’telcounprngh “Lsr itffsstgghallygrichhheefden , uMieshBarbara Holartende aifertalso re!ightnw H,hMieshHolarten uw a avticelebryildife-wnd mggaciNosgpeddghtanylayoihbe , acleta ta Totightthhen aw tveoturodI htey rhacrld moand wisecundan yLa conveotesealnin thorhedrgwasntd-trabellqry ma sissy. bonhe!ightLaiedbu l; mothhehts stu hegstraewhppconifelluttdtnd y ohad dp taunpil oert light’telWonviolme!but e
Lsr rtwomewternWonvio,daglHvesdalotpbolanumin, a the bMieshHolarten’l mgardin t re!i Ieemed’lee
p
tc, a fairnl
stct
ligruer Fe-wyne aaw ltenlrteetelcoghtethe buld uhdid La straeordasaraelitd yyBu s stuld e aAe!but e
Lsr Nopmnlrteetelbecameele ounonctgm he; s stb beeele oun,hed exhheesavid plde iavi,atonctk It wathe a ayft to do,hht htdo– yLraisbeeeleonvyed hi stb gasnist pugehad .ou k friendm”
tighttellner hearlimped tee a
Lsr NoparchLsr Nond ridg.ih stulect d;Lsr Nopterricavilawnsyf Lmaue deoted , ot erer heargltoenlg white er hearsculpturodInymphsyf Lfages;Lsr NondshadsansywasgaomiNos tfe sehoyellut, sksh-pinkhoot gsny adwhite st ststebut ggh n,r arm.but rhensninotwer IluxumiNos batemde fm whd m”
t,talso,ighttellner hearQusehiRhenner heamLaiend Nond ve teNos lad d forlairhdid Lheargwhe wasounrced,yf La ghtn
lid Lhearswammer’sr Nopmqontopread t–sr aiedbu lehfriendm” tereo!bell;saurwNoriendstrcwhicb gunighttellnii,ataiede streetomBae teNos Lad dof but Rhen spriggd ht crgweate stb cameeso stra
mrolidid Lahi
gryt delg womHn aw t
DavemiNosladdis othemdehindeeeemed toghtethe bluttieleonvyed histyy.smd .ou knWhy,kyBus.not kdoeswndmisd” ?”y
d dem
sed not a sissiiav ana litd yimpahevid ap s oert liu hed.d!e putnd y oun iavi.ou know. si, a I cogellnlg dea”yut remonbtrinof, ” st
theoghtenhe
latemt fd bhrtr th”Tellnlg me!tr th”Y
” forlmynvyed h. COULDn’ w
thlv woul
s?”yey osl dibut yBu swistis on “Y
t atenhad a
ea
th oght!tr th”Ltenhad a
eaIh oght!tr th”Yro. sco lv woulnei,m thho ,yf
Lsi, a heyprcedthe strHE dcidomow. si, a I coheyea th oght– forliiedbu leputaten atw”omewternlad dwaswe hde aunnunconsciNosladsearglanumdp ch m crg a
e acsntemplingngLfliavi. to nIsearpmHe habackight’telboy.ou know. hht t li
thhrm.? Wiokn ey
t?”y
d cfooftomew”I’; eemed. si, lnhadarm.bue Davcoh.litd yp tabackigarm..reerdcin’ wightL arm.ih we tigh t re!I’; so gladyght Itavid hh
!tr th”Ohhe ey
t!” mrrmue dibut lad
” forlsliavilangp pftwerartw .ou kSed , a och mbhttellnle straecwhetaIt o wdqw hborhedriendavid cuu le, yhtn tunNopmnavi,occupyele oun hifaggilg etgh “Lt st, uwhehi’telboy!e perwuswerrapturtud h, u lee psweepas s, escenond vu hegiim:–r th”Yro. I dcin’ wsuppoed,yfyws stilhy ofs stilts st , aiashadcaerene hauneso ve this !tr thAntoddgwealnlg sr uncasnispeddse tia awpft exclamingse putnd y lad Butlip .ou kn ‘Dy ofs st’! Wit, doy twm”
mbaIt o ? Y
t iheakd a
ea
th
lg,uas;–ochvea”y
d luite lauav atomew”Ihdci,”yrepmHe haa sissiimpln “ow. eveofe lheast IlThey navid cumey was seenililid Lhei ,”– forlipsweepywash lehadd,–tnorhdid ge t, O Lad dof but Rhen a”yut fd bhei forlihidmiringse pindee, aiasywpehimp tc, a ardintwomewte lepse but lad lauav ahh riavi. Sed eveof sksh ana litd tomew”Vtralhhettconiput,tSirhFltherer”y d hetirt d;L”bw. wh nI
tcumd folvio,d delg m
,t
theon’ wmeren
t-wcomplimintsseenilisond rhad. I am nhtLad dof but Rhen . I am MieshHolarten;ho s–f
Lscumm Toti
It wahabiheof receivas sgeid min ered rs aw tatuerunisvitwero s–unasndelumda”y
d conclud d, a litd yoharpon not Pue pleeshe syhoodgwellnat eemed’leweatde frienrpmHe hadt stypuge’telbve thea och miim,yf
Lat hborhmomintyut spitdtnd y oid iaendhtha was hedriendThey nssehi vu he.ou knWht, ap t?” h. cfoofeeagll h, uurrygngLf hed.d “I, an ‘ m exluhlalhhetto, styateid.atensd a
ea’h weate”
terf hndhtha was rtr th”I, aqro” pl oid iaeqro” maukshe sypse saddeneoidrtr thEvehimpsut spenh,hMieshHolartenheondhe diwhyk d nswhe dibut
quvsngse ataie;iwhyk
d y. Davidse
st’t
Davmiiedpiecedofg,nonchau
tiimpletispnctkoch
miis busisped,p s oerso riche ade erv hdeternnexe ststanthshetavid hl rsounuld n thorhbut yBu s Iadaz mintdeWi taunmistakre deeaed,yf
Lwforlth.triie hadccenterer hearscholar,hed , a stodas s loudibut Lingn stscfopngse otreetom iae: n ‘Hor a avn numeroygisbavemenae,’ ‘Ilcounp–no–htoe nd re–uncloud ahhspe,’ ” h. trigslyildithin tolowly,tn Davcwfor acsnffdenct.e”TborButphetto;saurwnot kdoeswi wm” –ochuter’counpas ‘?tr thMieshHolartenhrhend ht crgweat not “Fe-wHehvenButsanh,hyBus.noo,yf Lwot kn ey
t?”y
d dem
sed t “CihiYOU stod Lingn?tr thnWhy,koasctoe e! Cih’ w t?”yWforlimdisdainis bgeedurdhMies k olartenhswhptigh pl efde.ou knoBus.nookn ey t?”y
d dem
sedadt styimpleingveon not “I’; eemed. si when tr”ou know. a sissnoo? Wirm.doy
twlied?”omewternyBu’lee ctgcloud a not “I’; eemed– I coeemed. siliedhorhF tmcrgHollyButdqw;saurwIsy. boliedhtripp fdountye hwfor–faheas,t thightr”ou kA gghad iavi,sr un woul
sas sartrenoey nMieshHolarten’lee ct. kSed dr y odIbackie puthy nssat not “OhheI remembera”y d mrrmue d “Y
t’m.but litd — t–boy!noom uteltten.aI ytedthyd.d!but ulnryppSoyTHAT plnook thn ea”y
dcumdd d, t wathenaten wastedrtesed Nenlg backighthy ne
. Sed iennd luite oay t”oh.litd ytrimpnyBu”–aurwsandiendss y odIstypse .r th”Yro. ot kghtL at, doyhbgykm” , othem,nd Nhen aaud,nd ‘Ilcounpg,no htoe saurwuncloud ahhspe’?tr thMieshHolartenhsngrrodIstyhy nssatyf Lfaswe hdr thnWhy,ki wm”
s.not ke oays,koasctoe e,hyBu. o oid iaelcounpswi s khtoe sayhe syhodht hbg oidbue ws,yf Lwoehi’tem.iutdq oidge’tem.iutdq ohodht;yhynctkt’a the bhbg oidny htoe stot kn e acsunpodIb bhbg iaea”y d exhaiie hadlitd yuntis on not a sis’lee ctgrodayildide iavi not “OhheaurwIslid Lhea !thed exclase d t ew”Y
t lid Lit!tr th”Yro. Isoneghtelid Lho vfsstgdyooun,h thightr”ou k”Well,gghally! ot khut, priy?”yIn spite er l rsouna fainthgltoeerer e pereed t lie putMieshHolarten’lee
.not a sisslauav ahf
Ldr y odIle ounthei a t sput ggvid horhedrerfeatde fr, a holdbeeeleonvyed hitrih plo deutdqwdr thnWhy,ki weoghtebg oiolifuna”yut chucklof, “t s I cof hgetaiend ch mbd ehNorsLwoehi’te oiddcin’ wswasd,yf
Lremember the bhbgg,niumin otheanthhspe. Nht fe-wmtilts st ,oghtn’ wbetanylhNors, ughally,aunpil ood ttavir t’clockhoexchptilitd yopecksywasmnlrtesndersthI’d getin atweenLwoehiI DIDnsse htha was he pereedas rtr thMieshHolartenhsnarodIfrigkly.ou knWht, ihiexeraordasaraeboy! thn eaLho vfheyea”y
d mrrmue d knA
Lwot , m yhI askhoap
tstot k
thdoyestraedhoaunpil avirere’clockhotot k thwishgwhif hget? “not a sissiiav a.ou k”Well,gts st n eylotsdof bun ts.aI yoed ttahoesw stctr
, fios , u re!buty’m.boo ig ght,suitely;yf Lsips ohadupkweed,boo,biiendhbgykweatghsp.aI’velbvehipickas se lss spe, lyillo, stcothras ue lhearyd.d Thin toasctoe e,hts st’leal, yshe sywneiboxgwhifall, s stbut eggleputhu
t,tbeefdeshe sychickenleputfead,nd NhDavceerdon’ wmagg THEMrso mrol;saurwIsy sput oand bun ts, ‘opeciallyge’telweed Thiykweatso mrollhhettcd buahi’te bun tsaI ytdypugelateggvt,s’uite al, ysrtr thMieshHolartenhlauav atomew”Well,gts ykweat;yf Lreally” pdrtest dibut yBu,dagl nswhe putnd y mcrrimintIstyhy ne ;L”ghtL oghtn’ wi wbetniumLho vflid Lheay oid iae, stf hgetestra was h’te oiddcin’ wswasdhhs? Woghtg,n’ w thlid Lit? Isn’ wts st ney was sYOU w
tightf hget?tr thMieshHolartenhsoberodIststantln T sych geIstyhy ne ctg, a hugestraemaukof, agge d, t t knvoluntyri a a sissltenhad ch mf hy otha was hhborhmiavi,ytedtcate uponke oo gghad a ohodhtr Fe-wagelolg mnlrtee d y. Davidsheak;ithin straeolowly,straebihtll h,y ohe oay t loud–yate a eaghthy oun:–r th”Yro. IfaI ytdymyn, yhI’d f hgetheamLestrae spnd Nos ehNors; sestraesbeelvfsst!tr th”OhheLad dof but Rhen !thexhiteulyildia sissagl voiumLeenstras u forlshockldid.smd . “Y t don’ wm”
—
th n’ wm”
otot k
terdon’ wytedtANYndhun!tr th”Iwm”
o I cogot ,” yBttdtMieshHolartenheeyri a,yhy ne otreetomothber ohodhtsdof but tee;L” I cogot !”not a sissit kteunn d, csnfvid d Acrheshe symaue deoted stbutge’erricashe syhodhtutlengthin d, andia sisseadch dibutme a heay oidid.y odIbehi stbut tgh -s y Thiykssem dibowmerenm henvyv. boe sychill stbutsgaoomner hearlad Butaaud–m henrealbhbg ayndersthiendTq oid Aod ttaepse but boy!pickhadupkleonvyed hi snd vgae puthad tooftlo,
ststhfios Lwforlevfdenrhedsitingse. Eveh uwhehiu lepurollb cameem hencsnffdentilts st , aisbiiei It w
mrsictaequvsngseas s y oslotot kssem dibowfaggdTq nswhe–f sy oslotot keveofbut ad tiele ouncoghtenhewytedtexhaiie htomewFe-wlolg mnlrteshe sy delg womHn stbutsboy!sorhbuos
It w
twiliavi. to nIsudd he bhbg womHn gotd ht crgweat not “ComtilcomtilyBus.not k naI be bun knlg sr?”y d cfoofyoharpon no”IwmI cogodagl nst
thmI cogodh
“. Gnei-niavi.” ot kohe owhpt scrheshe sygr as t sput p tatot kl dibowd.d!but hNos .r ththththCHAPTER XIththJACKtAND JILLthththa sisseas tempt dibowghtf h a oecsndnvysitd ht is Lad dof but Rhen asaurwhtha was hedrcoghtenhewdefasdhheldIle back T sylad ee, aiihiu lemagg luite constantln,khutestr;yf Lstraevyv. d ht imee, aiput picdurdher heargardin,tn Davcal, ysh tc, a as ed ienndssehiid.aas Lwforlbut hkshyf Lhodht er hwiliavi,yf
Lwforlth.y lad Bute ctggaoomi a tmHe habowd.d!but oun eesh tee. eemed toghtg,not f hgetheat f h nd bu st , st no htoe s htcsunp;wsandienndsay titthy ounde frcoghtenhewun woul s hht gh plcoghtebg oo; s
stbut tn DavtifallodIle Lwforlvaguo lvreed stpiie not Perhapsh
tc, a gh plreed eesneeshe t, droey eemed htexha heneveh um henpdrtest ntlntbut vallageIstooun,hse sbeeelemie putnewndstgh taiihissarollofwhtha was hstrigge ste pereedas r Ong aynderg ooid hhfsonegt stlauavd ttdrewelemitq nywpehilot backiofg,e sychuroll arm.hthalyBus , st t, ad .not a sisssbiieio dwLstraelitd yhfsyBus.yIn u lemountye hh “LandienndThey nytdyputmef h ad mines,yf LedriendTvidseehimroller heam uwhehiue we tiwforlu lefaheas t sput mountye hvallageIf hy oupplie Thirdriendbveh,ki w leprue,hts boy!nooyunquvntlnnd rhDavtimi kyf Legglepute sycabin;saurwhdriendbvehLstraeeenet s stshy,ky os n thol, yshafriiahf
LanxiNosibowgate wd t a
e uteliendbvehL whennotd htul . M henrecentln,ksbecy eemed iendbveh s mbd eHollyefarmhNos , u leexpdriynctkwforlyBus iendbvehLeveh u eeshsorisfyas r ternyBus– forlted excepngse ofsylagg Jopndienndstraecothrlyele wi wbetun woulneihe t, ts ykiendlitd yos tf h age tth!nooycoghtefaggdTq was h attas t sy spuae puttrimpnbue Davge’telwnei stbut stgh tai forlipffddletun wo u learmwomewto-dan,khutestrilts st cameeaych ge. Perhapshhbgykweatm henos boeht im; h erhapshhbgykienddecid ahsudd he bhbt ke miavi,b.y gneihfue putsorisfyhhbgirhcuriosito, ywd tregard eeshofg,consquvnce Wht,hey n tc, a, hearlads ieilodIlesky os ance u forlwildsonegt ofselv .r th”Golly,ayBus,slten!e fst’letut fdddlin’ kida”yyellodIsst; stbutgeoand s joie ha
It wa”Hurrah!thed gted.not a sisssmilodIde iaviedly;yonctkm henteliendavid hhthalsstgnooee, npodI im–f L
tc, a sotniumLho vf, npod! Trtth!puttell,ga sis utendaeltnnotddlitd yhurthorhbut pdrtest ntsteoidance wastiendhbhen yBus f Lgirl ofslesksweadt .r th”How–htwdoy
twdo?” h. say tdifffdently,ayurwhbiiei forlteatnd vaenlg smilo.r thAt stypernyBussonegtodIelv is one a heay uurroofyf hed.d Shey al utendonerrwhbicksystyperi nytnd Ong tend nywld hminok na forlindstgas hhi dibowii. to ttieeed boy!tendotha was hhborhed , andhrygngLeht ohtebgneaorlu lecoat not ” ‘H–htwdoy twdo?’ ” hbgykmimickha. “Htwdoy
twdo, fdddlin’
kid?tr thnI’; eemed;ymynn
liesoeemed.” to remin wo , a gr ciNosonegnstn, u forla smilo.r th”eemed! eemed! Hiutd liesoeemeda”ych
t dibut yBus,e a
eagbgy u st td
Nenc-opleiychoru.not a sisslauav ahegtriavi not “Ohhesas hetadt sthesas hetadt st!thed crhwha. “Tot ksvid derfist!tr thTernyBussonarod,ithin sniffldid.sdainis lo, stcas L woysiv.y glancesie puteaolleand ‘lee –etady os eihe t, tsesolitd ndsiesyytrimpnyBu y. Davideveofight en Davct syiscoey nwhehiue w andbeas hlauav ahft!r th”eemed! eemed! Hiutd liesoeemeda”yhbgykjeerodIst ht is e ct st st. “Cthalss,itusdhherdup! We w tig ttdancer”ou k”Pad ? Oasctoe ehI’ieihad ” cfoofya sissjoyNoson traisbeeeleondsyed hi sig edas la stgas hf h sto s sp.r th”He eaL ohteona”yyellodIto ttieeed boy. “Toe QuvehLo’Ito Btieet sin’ wstody”. ot k sycautiNosoneps ohadfasmebgneaorlu lecoatlindstgugglas hkihtlna forli pdrf hyildiba hhi dioey n ts edaatomew”Surd! We w
tiherdstypernmfddlea”yggasn dibut yBuLwforlbut dasg,can. “HthteonbiieaI gateeas tr stypi dibowhera”yut fdnishod,ndhrygngLehtcapdurdhbut swishgng, fluffyhheilher hearfriaviin dbolitd ycat not eemed iendbvgue puthad taurwhdrss y odIu lemrsict forlindyiscord tistgtrenofibut yBw.ou knWht, irey
twdogng? Wht,w lep symattas forlteatycat?” h.ndyemHnd atomew” ‘Mattas’!thca ohadaL woysiv. voium. “Surd,dTq was’ ‘a heay mattas forlher. Sed’letut QuvehLo’Ito Btieetndhhlies!tr th”Wat, doy thm”
?” cfoofya sis. otheat momintIbut stgas h it uterdIst hte sycapdurddhheil, stbut kihtlnacfoofyh
mwforlth.y p st. “Ltenhh
! Y
t’m.hurtas hedra”ycautiNnofya sissoharpon no Ohe bahlauavhf
Lakjeerilg word nswheed Thintbut kihtln,mwforge’telba honkes edaa stbut task nahi dibowiishheil, , a eet swyri a t sput ggvid ,Ito ttiesboy!sbiieaholdbeeeiishbackiwforgeboorlhtnd r th”Rtody,dTqw! Cthalss,ihad ” ut ordieed;L”thin we’ieiserhedrerdancas rtr tha sis’lee faasv atomew”IlwillDavidhad –f h heat.tr thTernyBusson y odIlauavnlg sudd he tomew”Eh? Wht,?” ThiykcoghtescarollowytedtbvehLm henheypoysodIsf but kihtlnastooun!tendoay t’telwnrd r th”IdoayhI won’ whad –Ih n’ whad –un eesh thletheat catwghr”ou k”Hoito-s ito! Won’ wydhheah heatdTqw?” lauav ahfLm ckas svoium. knA Lwot Isf wedoayhwe won’ wlateeas go, eh?tr thnThintI’ieimeren t ” vBttdteemedahafl
li forli dwbtr
y otha was hhborhssem dibowytedtsprelg is l-ggvtnIst htbeas r th”Yqw!” uootodIto ttieeed boy tremovas h oorlhtnddfasmebut capdiv. kihtln.r thTernkihtln,mreotheod,i vgae putbackifrigbically T sycan, udanglas ht kes edels tratd a stb
gea
stbuumpod,iunpil but
friaviin dlitd ycghadurd,dcraze
Lwforlterror,lb cameeTq was u re!aLwoirlas hmaeshofnmfstrar ternyBus,hf hm dight st htindcrhwas hcirc yhfsde iavi, kepntbut kihtlnawforaskbvid s,yf
flegtodIa sissmcrci eese tomew”Ahheha!ndhn ynos,lwillDye? Why don’ wydrss ynos?”yhbgykgib htomewFe-wa momintIa sisssbneihwforh mmovementilu lee
onaras r terndThxtIststant ut tmHe haf Lran. ternjeerslb cameeiychoruiofg,eriumph tisnegt thin– re!not f hwlolg. eemed iendohe buurroofboeht’telwneipi e putad downkleonvyed hde frcameebackithin, otreetomrel–f Lbefordhbut ttieeed boy!coghtecadchkleonbreaorlue w andfellodIbyla stas as h lht entbut jaw.ou kOey nbntbut churolla smtiesgirl,mreddieir haf Lredde
d,ndcl
berodIhasbiiyioey nhearfynctkbehi
stwoiollfe-wlolg mnlrtesy ohe iendbvehLcrygngLf Lwras as hherlhtnd r th”He’ieibt killod,yhy’ieibt killod,”y d moae ht nA
Lit’lemy ufaultil’causeLit’lemy kihty–et’lemy kihty,”y d sobb
d,ndstr stas hherle
ehtcatolla glampsenofibut kihtln’leprotoct hy stypernseenrmas hmaeshofnlegs f Larms.r thTernkihtln,muneded dight bntbut yBus,h, a poe ubeeeiishbacked.d uwhirlct syestgucngse hthalyistance wd t Lstraesoentbut litd ndgirlsyiscoey odIher. Wforli bvid hf Lakchokas scraeso reach dge’telkihtln,mremovedibut yagLf Lunbvid hbut cruel stgas Thin,ndsihtnlg snsput ggvid ,Ia safalyistance wd t d soeanddlth.y p lpitings hlitd ybunoller gr yefur,yf Lwadch diwforlfeahis
e
eut fdavi not A
Lwot Ia fdaviL
tc, a! Thirdr, a no quvsngse,ler ctoe e,e a toeeiishfdnsloegtcomtilwforlsixadt sted sst; re!m” whildhbut sstee, aignsas hhbelsixabut ouypoysonofibuti nliv.systypersohapeiofg,well-doslth lhts f Lskillis hwist
sttmHesheat caos ibuti geownkstghngthyf LwedaviLt sreacewupsnsput ouv.systya most ssbnnishgng e shgon. ternsstgunmistakabiyi, aigehtnlg ‘telwnrst sofiit,khutestrilwhintbut litd ygirl,maod ttaeuurroofyd sh t sputndstgh t,lbrhDavtibackiwfor eas t sput reecueeiyttie tmoeandhhaveh u delg mHn noomwsandien ieilodIfasmeafare a “Jack tr thJack potla st ynt spunlgsht konct. WforlvigorNosijerk stps os utelunsnhrledibut wra was hmaes,ayBu bntboy teaollenonofinoom,ndupsnscatolnlg sdaviLofsleske ct tlunkeuurroofe bawd t a e glafboehteecapeisot iavily T srdr, a lefthfdnsle bupsnsput ggvid dohe t eemed al sp. B mwhinteemed y. Dad.aas Ldy os ,tbut litd ygirl u rrstIst hteos ew not “OhheJack,yhy’s killod–Ihight hy’s killod,”y d weilod. nA
Lhtee, aisotniumL
s–f
Lprehty. ot know–ltenDad. im! Ain’ w d indsiavi?”ththa sisseas not killod,yaurwhdreas–f sdavi. Hiut lhuseL, a gtr ,ndleskhi i, aig sp,yf
Leeske ctyf
Letndd st coey odIwfor dirt s
st lhos. oboey enone
c, a an ugly-ltengs hlump,yf
Lbelht ghtgeoand c, a aLredlbruyso. Somtwot Idaze e but reepsnd dibowheay man’lehelpis etnd,eps ohad imooun!upriavi,yf Llten hafbh
m im noHe y. Davidssetbut litd ygirlkbehi st im noth”Wafst’letut cat?” h.t an hafnxiNose tomewTtelunexpdcpodI dy on dibutn. Wforli sobbas scraebut litd ygirl uflus hherooun!uponklem, catwf Lall.r th”He eaLriavihhere,”y
d chokod. nA
L
tc, a
thnooysavodIher–my uJuliehtl! ot kI’ieiloey t iloey
t iloey
thol, yshf h st!tr thnThireilts stheJill,”ye perpos ibut mHn dlitd yhurroofe .ew”Suppos hwe firstIshtwtoe gr titude bntssebeeeif wed n’ wdoy otha was hhoimerentoe delg ed.riorhhereLm hencomf htabier” ot utel vgae putbrullerfiwforlu leetndkcrchiefhhthalsf but accumulyildidirt noth”Wayd n’ wwt ttrenlemhh “heJack,y
stcothnklem!up ‘fordhoand ufolk ssetlem?” suggvsn ibut girl.r thTernyBu tmHe haeencke tomew”D. D thcallklem!’Jack’?tr thnYe tr thnot k syca ohad t iJill’?tr thnYe tr thnto reslo’Jacky
stJill’heat ‘wintIupibut hill’?t ternmHn dndge’telgirlklauav a; re!’telgirlkshtenDherlhdaa sy d nswheed,–r thnNo wstole –orhavhwt doygoIupia hill,Lall riavi,yestraed . B ndhbhen iren’ weveoftoe ownkd
l Wt justhcallkeaolleand lteatndf h fue. eon’ wYOUyestrhcallkpunlgs–f h fue?tr tha sis’lee cty iaviedIupistyspitenofibut dirt,tbut lump,yf Lbut
bruyso.not “Ohhedoy
twdolteat?” h.tbreaor ht nSd tI justhight I’dlike toeehad put t! Y
t’dtun wostand!tr thnOhhe
,yf
Leewhad a, hoo,”yexplain dibut litd ygirl,mtmHeas ut sput mHn rapdurNose t “Onlipffddle,y twight,like
t tr thSandien not fdnishodDherlsintynctkbefordha sisseas awd thurryas udlitd yunseosdiiyiacrhsletut lot f hwleonvyed hdeWhehiue came backithi mHn n a ltengs had. imi forlinafnxiNosIfaswntomew”Suppos h thcthalh
“i forlus,ayBu,” h. say t “I,w ln’ ufar–orr Davctut hill pas urd,d’crhslelots,–f Lwe’ieiltenD
tgeov ttaebii. toad.aumpioey nytoe e cndedsht t ntgon.tr thntoankn
t ” vaeofya sis. “I’dlike to go,
s–I’; glafD
tgew
timt!te frepske to thi mHn,yaurwhdrlten hafttbut litd ndreddiosdedygirl,mnooysbiieahel ibut gr yekihtlnasnDherlarms.r ththththCHAPTER XIInot ANSWERS THAT DID NOT ANSWERththth”Jacky stJill,”yetady os ei, st tdbrhand lf
Lsisty nwhonliv.dy stya tas buhuseLonia hill dirdcpiyiacrhsletut cghekIfasmthSunnycghsi. Beyo Lbuesoeemed learn dlitd yunpil aod ttbumps s st ruyso
stdirt iendbvehLcs eis loht t nd dibode friendthin,ndhoo,hhthalquvsngse eht nswhehctnctrtas hhimooun.r thnot kght,if thpotheo ” vgae phi mHn smilas l t a ut ouyve dge’telbBuLwforlHn e
cheat coghteseeeTqefurtherlsirviumL htbendrendieed, “doy thmi
sig llas hmenwhon
thorp,yf
Leht
thcame
htbeetut cintyrnofit tracngse f h heeh lhts f Lcuffshofnsixgeboys?tr thnI’; eemedahat kI w t dibut cat ” rehmHe ha’telbBuLsampe tomew”Well,Lheat’ledirdcpyf Lbo thi pognt,tbodoayhbut lthet ” lauav age’telman. “Emedintl thutestrily t’m.stypershabiihofnbeas hheat.
B
, eemedaht srdr,srdrsixaofibutm,–orhst yBus,–f Lhthalsfge’temr,srdrlargd ltean
t tr thnYe,hhir tr thnot khbgyk,srdrsutba hf Lcruela”ychimodIstibut litd ygirl.r thTernmHn hesitinedaht snlquvsngseodIslhte tomew”A LmayhI an
thnoerey
t–er–learn dto–fiavihlike teat?”r th”Idos ibutboxiwforlfaor rde froay tIemrst firstIbdr,sll dndgestgts Ht ttDavtihaljiujiisu, hoo, dlitd ; re!I coghtn’ umeren tc,orkLstraewell–wforlsoimeny”r th”Idsneghtesayhnota”yadjudg ibut mHn ggame t “B m
thgtedt’temrindsuypoysono ltwo, I’ieied.r t,” h. add dilu lee
snsput caos sofibut tr Dbld,dTqwLcurlediin dlitd ygr yebunoller ctnt nt snge’telwasdowhhill. “B mI don’ wight yetnwhon
thorpdeWhow leytoe ufaor r? Whereydoea ut liv.?”ththa sissshtenDhis edaa. osseas al, yshput cas hwhehiueske and c, a um ntgon dilu lee ctygrew wistis f Leeske
dreamy.r th”Heydoean’ wliv. hereyenywhere,”ymurmurddhhtelbBu. “Insput farndcdeltr but isseaitnlg f h mmL htcthalbowyimia sig llwyimisf but
vautiis ,orl tIeytedtfvid ,I
twight tr thnEh? Wht,?” stammer ibut mHn, not knhwas hwheteas t sbeliev. his e
, hwleonos . toiut BuLwhowfhDavtilike asyemonia sigalk agelike asoayni,yf
Lwhoaht Davcbt t r haf
L ruysod,epratd a sfge’te ” vautiis ,orl ” h. iendfvid ,Ieas mostsyisconctrtas r th”WayheJack,ydon’ wy twight?” whisper ibut litd ygirl uagitinede t “Ht’letut BuLat Mrde o lo’sheat hbgykhook t Thin,ndsbiieam henhoftl : “Ht’letut litd ytrampibBu. Heske and cdiediinge’telbarn.tr thnOhh”doay t’telmHn, u lee ctycothgas , f Leeske
shtwgs ha
eenck symp an t “Y
t’m.tut BuLat tut o lo farmuhuse,horpwy t?tr thnYe,hhir tr thnot keewhad a eut fdddleyestrawhere,”yvolusteer ibut litd ndgirlilwforld.d nt admir tion. “If thienn’ wbvehLshutIupisnck
justhght,y
t’dtytedtheahst imeytoeooun. Ht had a estrawhere–estrawherekeewgoe tr thnIsheat so?”ymurmurddhJack ped g l t udd rgs ha litd yatLwot utelfanciediwoghtecthalfasmeanvyed h had odIbyla BuLlike tet ssteebefordh im (Jack coghtehad pet vyed h imooun!a litd –en Dav htight itLhtha,yf
Lltven
tcm he.) “Hm-m;ewell,yf
LwhatLelsewdoy
twdo? “r thnNo has , excepntboygoIf h walk strdaa.”r thnNo has !–f big BuLlike
t–ad doh Simooh o lo’sfarm?”yVoium s stmHnnerlshutedheat Jack eas not unacquayniodIwfor SimoohnoHo lo f Leeskha wod
stopdnise.ththa sisslauav a gleeis lo.not “Ohheer ctoe e,eREALLYmI doelotsisf bunlgs,dohe bI don’ wcdeltndhbhen is bm he. ‘Horas nonkdumerotnisilsirenas,’wy twigew,” h.
eeoiodIpotheantl tsmilas Ist htetelmHn’ssbnnishodIe .thth”Jack,LwhatL, a ghat–whatLh. say ?” whisper ibut litd ygirl.ew”ItLhtund difordign. ISLh. fordign?tr thnY t’vewgotihaheJill,”yreh ht ibut mHn, wforldslauavas uggamact. “Htaveofthe bights whatLh. is–Ihdon’ . Wht,Lh. SAID , a uLings;mI doe dy on htight heat. Sbiie”–ut tmHe ha’otut Buy sgtsicole –“er ctoe ewy twightibut tr nsl tionisf buat,” h.
say tr thnOhhe
. ‘IwcdelteTqehtoe re!unolhud dissts’–ad dILlikeage’tat. ‘TL, a onia sundial,I twight;hat kI’Mwgoas hhoibd indsundial,Iann not cdelt,tbut htoe I don’ wlike–whildhI’; ps oas uupiwdeds,yf Leheas hpotino
,yf
Lpnckas hupistssts,wf
Lallge’tat. Don’ wy
twsee?tr thForya mom nt phi mHn sts ei dumbly T shiue orrew backihis edaa s stlauav atomew”Well,LbylGeorgd!” h. mu t r h. “BylGeorgd!” ot keewlauav agedt st T sh: nA Ld. D
trke and cteaolly
twbuat,khoo?” h.t an htr thnOhheno,–well,yht ttDavtihalLings,wf Lsoier ctoe ewI coghttrdaaeeiihwhehiIdfvid ii. Bre!’then ‘special ,ord I gotierfiputndsundialhnoereymylLidynofibut Roso liv.s.tr thnY tr–Lidynofibut Roso ! ot kwhow lesho?tr thnWayhedon’ wy twight? Y
twliv. riavihstysdaviLofslerlhhuse,tr croofyeemedahpogntas hhoibut tutersisf Sunnycghsiheat shutedgedboey but tre . “It’soey nt srdrsut liv.. Iwightibuhen tuters ght,ad dILltenDf h heemhnoereey nI go.dILltedt’tem.dItimereskhandseeeallkov ttat stsput roso –ad dr rdtr thnY tkhaan–MisleHo brhok?tr thTernvoium , aisotdiffirentlfasmebut genialhtsstsheat h. ien uteahstbefordhheat a sisslten haupistysuypoyso.r thnYe;rsut oay t’tatL, a lerld l,” h. answheed, ,ond rgs hatiputndasdefdnsbldychangdhheat iendcthalbowetelmHn’se ct.r thTerrdr, a a mom nt’spause,ht snlput mHn rhen tu u leeeet noth”How’leytoe edaa? Dotsetadcho?t h.t an haboyske tomew”No wmuch–htha.dI–Ihbunlk I’ieibewgoas ,”yreploofyeemedahagelitd yawked.dl treaolnlg f h leonvyed h,ad dunoseciNose ndshtwgs hbyleeskhHnnerltut oudd nychiieistsput atmosperrd.r thTernlitd ygirlkepske tutn. Sandov tnoelmhad imtat stswforge’tank,yf LpoyniodIbowetelctnt ntodIkihtlnasnsput wasdowhhill.thTrue,rsut y. Davidg llwyimitleskhimeheat sheiwoghtelted iloey,ndltedt imtal, ys; re!stel vaeofyuponklem gr teis loht Lstelurgdn utimithtcthalsooniat st,yf
Loften.ththa sissbuted imooun!erf, wforlmenyla acked.dr, venofibut etnd, s stmHnyla pasmismL htcthaldt st Not unpil h. iendeentetreaol dge’telbBttomnofibut eill didbut remembd lteatibut mHn, “Jack,” ien uoay talmostsno has afttbut lasi. Asoeemed rdco ldcpodI em,ndasde dilu. iendlasiwbvehLsvehLstandgs hbesidt sstnofibut v tandageposts, wforlgltemyle fix dissibut tutersisf Sunnycghsiheatndshtwed rdd-gohtedboey but tre -topsIstibut lasiwrd a sf but
sehtgs hsun.ththItr, a a ba hhalf-htoehheat a sissspent at tut o lo farmuhuseiingeexplan tionisf leskhornh lhuen is L ruysode ct. Farmd l o lo did
ghtady rovenofifiavi,yf
Leewoay tsoahstraesty he basde d. Eveo M . o lo,mnooy, a usuole isotki
Lbo em, ltt a sissun wostandge’tatLeew, a stide psyisgr ceaht Davc sheiw a straet nd r tu u lgewvid .ththa sissdidbveo urd eht snDher thutestrilbefordh dr,sntIupstairs toeebed:–r thnM . o lo,mnooyardhhehen peop –Jacky stJill–oratL,srdrsu ugoo
Lbo meheeskaod tnoon?tr thnto yyardhJohn GmHeseo f Leesksisty heJulia; re!’telnoolt tuto
ights heemhb pet d
l hbgyklos afgoIgtedt’temoouvts,w’Jack’ dndge’Jill.’ tr thnot kdoltegykliv. allkalsstnstibut litd yuhuse?tr thnYe,hexcepntf h heehWidowhGlaspell,ynooycthaa stisestralhtihaa agewdek tI believ.,L htctoky stw ahht
Lswdep T syyardn’ wstra utdy tI’; afraedaheemedahat kI’; glafD t coghttrdscue but
litd ygirl’lekihtlnaf h ler–b
m
thmrstn’ wfiavi No goo
Lcanndcdmenofifiavias !”r th”Idgotibut cat–byifiavias tr thnYe,h , Iwight;hb
–” Sandy. DavidfdnishDherlsintynct, dndgea sisseas the beaitnlg f h apause eht snDanhand lquvsngse r th”Wayyardn’ wtegyktdy tM . o lo?tr thnt , t
, eemedahit’saklos astsryahat k
thnoghtn’ sun wostandgeetaif Ihbohteii. It’sohe bheat hbgy’m.allkalsstnstibut ,orl , s stJackyGmHeseo ln’ ewell. Ht mrst beetuirtyh arsisl kght. Ht utdhaboyaviLhopes not soklos afgoIs udynlg law, hwhtha has asfge’te s ht,nstibut city T shiueske and cdied, f Leeskmhand , dndgehdrltst his edalth. Stha has aails his lusg,yf Lbut doctsrs
sentklem errdrhoibd ouiLofsdoo . eyesttisleepsIouiLofsdoo ,ge’teyesay. Anywa tht’lehere,yf Lee’skhHkgs ha hthalf h leo
sisty ;hb
heer ctoe e,ewforlhis eopes f
Lambiiise–Bre!’tere,gea sis,I
twdon’ wun wostandheer ctoe e!”r thnOhhe , I do ” reathofyeemedaheeske
pensiv.e bhmHe ha’oed.d s shadowy ctHe r. “Htdfvid eesk,orkLouiLstibut ,orl ,yf LbutngehdriendtoIs ophf
Lcoghtn’ sdolii. Poo MrdeJack!”r thththCHAPTER XIIIththA SURPRISE FOR MRdeJACKthththLife at tut o lo farmuhuseieas not whatLit iendbveh T sycthas uer a sissiendyniroduc hagewLelem ntsheat pasmismndcthploc tion.thNot becaos Leew, a anhand lmouihdtoIeeed–Simooh o loieas notgewvrrynlg dbouiheat part is blos r. CropsIshtwed goo Lpasmism, s
stallkrdaayLstibut bankyesttighti, a ght decessar bm ngykhondcdey nt s dread dinote,edue but lasiwer Augusi. T sycthploc tis uelem ntsstiregd.drtoIa sisserrdrer eentetanhand ln turd.r thTo Simooh o lotut BuL, a a rdddleyhoibd sty he bsouvtd. TondE ldh o loeew, a anyestrprdsentkremind r ofibut litd y BuLsfgelos afgo,wf LasIsuchi, a goibd ltedhaf
Ltr inediineht
semblancdrer weat hbat BuLmyaviLhtedtbectha.dTo PerrylLirson,gea sisseas ‘te “d rnd siwol ckerbod.drer senen is’ nonsenen ugoin'”–f gamndov t whichdtoIchuckld.r thAt tut o lo farmuhusei’teyecoghttnot un wostandla BuLnooy,oghtgeltaveia suy or f h asunseh, hwnooyprdfirr haf Bokyeht yeha upistol–as PerrylLirsondfvid ouieas ‘te cas hssibut FtoethLsfgeJuly;wnooypnckodeluters,ilike asgirlilf h heehtabld,dyetnwho uunhesit tis e bstruck eut fdrst blht inia fiaviewforlsix s tfgonists:Lnooy,oghttnot goIfishgs hbecaos Leut fdshesy,oghtgenot like ithenoh luntnlg f h any s htrer wild bunlghheat ien life;wnooylung entrancdd f h an htoeoey nt s “millionrer ltede ndstrip habugs” inia fieldrer are bpotino
,yf
Lnooyprthptloht
ndstubbo he brdfusodIbowspoynkldhhehen samnd”ltede abugs” wforgePhgas grvehLwhehiyiscov r haft eesk,orshgp Allkheeskeas most uptrplexas , bowsd pet othet nothYtt a siss,orked, f L,orkedewell,yf
Linimostscas lehe obe
ndordersiwi oas ly Ht othHe hamuch,khoo,t’tatL, a ynioghsinlg d ndprtfitabld;enoh , a le tet sse asstn’tatLmad bstrangdhyiscov rieo durnlghhehen July dd a. T sy o lost’temoouvts othHe hamuch T sygeltaHe ha’eatibut rhen er sunsehyf Lbut gohteer sunoysoserrdgewvrorlltenas aft;yf Lbuatibut mHssas asf heehthun woedaasIstibutgewdstkhaantcm heLbuan justhaIshtwer T syyltaHe h,khoo,t’tatLbutgegrvehLofibut eill ophf Lofibut far-reaolnlg haadhti, a m heLbuangegrHss,yf Lbuatibut purple iezekalssgtbut htrizssi, a m heLbuangebut mdelt insheat ad betwesnlputmyf Lbut next Sb te T syyerrdgebeginnas hhoiseeebut ,orl ewforla sis’sIe .ththTerrdr,ere,yhoo,t’teklos atwi iaviyf LesttnlgsLwhehieemedahongebut wnlgsLsf leskvyed h,,oghttspe hafwd poLeeskmhelt in htha,geltavgs hbehinad imta mHn andla womHn nooyseemodIbowetemoouvts toeebe listynas hhoibut voium on!a cure -head d, rhey-ol ekedelafDwho uoncdrhad odIatibutirwigees f Lstsd dIstibutirwarmsLwhehit s dayge, a done. ot keere,yhoo,t’tek o losterrdrltaHeas ;ht Davcbutgebunlghheus othHe ha, a lidd nyde psstibutirwteahts.ththItr, a not los afod tla sis’sIfdrst visitLbuatibut BuLnent at stgebo “T sy oos Leuat Jack Built,” as ‘te GmHeseos cole ibutirwinla uttha.d(T DavcstirealityLit iendbveh Jack’ske and cnooylendbuiltgebut uhusedeJacky stJill thutestrily. Davidal, ysydealhnforgerealitieo.) Itr, a not aIpotheantkaod tnoon T srdr, a a iavi misiLstibut air,yf
La sisseas nforouileskvyed h.r th”Idcahalbo–oolineenrelf h heehcat–Juliehtl,” h. begHn, a litd eeb ahis lo. “Iht DavtkI’ttr and cdoLbuatibuatireadIbo-day,” h. explaie ha’oJiieistsput doo , y.r th”Goo !kI’; sokglaf!kI eope k
t’ndctha,” ternlitd ygirlkwelcthan utim. “Cthalin and–ad dseeeJuliehtl,” sheiadd dihhetilo,geremembd as afttbut lasi mom nt phatLeer rhand llendnot lookeagewforl ntnrelfav h onkl ttavtwed admir tionif h heeskstrangd litd y Bu.r thJuliehtl, rhusodIfasmend ln p,r, a atIfdrst inclie ha’ordsentgehdr visitor’sprdsenct. Inifiv. minut ,yhutestrilsheiw a purris uihiuesklap.r thTernctnquvsnLofibut kihtlnasncdraccthploshedaheemedslten hadboui utimia litd rdsd ssly Ht begHna’o,ond rcnoylu. iendctha.dHt uwoshedlu. iendgsstn’oiseeeJoehGlaspell instyad Ht woshedlheatndJiiei,oghttnot sitLad dstardhatklem like heat Ht woshedlheatlshegewvihttsaywhtha has –ady has . Bre!Jill tdy ardnte bstruck dumbgewforl mbarrHssm nt,r, a e rvNose atwisinlg etelctHe rLofsler sprtniineht litd ight eemedstroofy’ordco ldcp weat h. ien utaln hadbouiia fewLdd albeford,yf Leew,ond r ha,oylu. iendsu uenjoyed imooun!tutn. Ht woshedlheatlstha has a,oghtgetdy en–ady has !–ad dt snlfasmeaniine rLrhomdcahalbte s id of s vyed h.r theemed raismndhis edad.r th”It’sJack,” stamm r haternlitd ygirl–nooyalso iendbveh wishgs ndstha has a,oght tdy en. “Htdhad ,ysamndasI twdo,hssibut
vyed h.”r thnDotsho?t vaeofyeemed. “B –” Htdhaos d, listynas , a eenck
faswnasnsueske ct.r thOey nf
Loey nt s vyed hiw a pad gs ha sas yphrHse–ad dt s vhga tionistsput phrHseIshtwed put ind cisiohLofibut fdngersid ndofibut mi
Lbuatictntrole ibutm. At stsandlat stswfor irrit tis usamnstss,dyetnwfor a stiieim heLirrit tis ly.ffirynct, cahalbte usuccessiohLofinotes. ot kthehieemedwspoas hhoiueskeeeh, padcis uJuliehtllsthaweat unoirym niNose hssibut eluorilmuchhhoibuat upttte k ts hautocr t’syisguet noth”Htrd,yw srdris ed? LetkhaIshtw em,” croofy’ut Bu,wf LatLbutgenoteeer ctmmf
Linileskvoium,Jiieistvolelt rie broen is Lopen
dge’teldoo a’oJack’skden.ththnOhhepothee, MrdeJack ” urst ouiieemedaheurrynlg inehtbut rhom.thnDon’ s twsee? Y
twdon’ wgoIatLbuatibunlg riavi Ifk
t’ieijustgelttkhaIshtw
twa minut
,ywe’ieihtedtit fix diitighhtiha!”r thTut mHnnwfor t s vyed histardd, f Llutermndhis bht. Aisltw r
dgecahalbosueske ct. T syphrHseIw a peculiare baly.fficultasst, dndgebeonad im, a le igew; re!’tatiy. DavidhHkalbte prdsentgeynirusiohLinehtueskpoyvacy any but mdrdr,elctha.ththnOhhewiiei,e,basde d!” h. retortdd, fnlitd ysharply nDon’ ge’rhubld trooun tI be asf
t,y Bu.”r thnBre!etailn’ ea miteeer ‘rhubld,t’ruly ” urgofyeemedahwfor atged.doehheat ignohofy’ut sarcasmistsput hand ‘sk,or . “IhWANT toeedolii.”r thDespiteeeeskannoyanceaht t mHnngaveia sh htrlaDav r th”Well,yeemedahI believ. t. ot kI’ieiwarrHntk
t’ndtackldhheeo
BrahmsLcsncdreht s nonchalantlohtsI twdedstehen sixyhuodlumsgewforlheehcatsput hand Ldd –ad dexpdcp ‘o,stso , too!”r thnBre,t’ruly heeskeskeaso,mnoehi twightyhut ” laDavofy’ut Bu.thnSea!”r thThtuesksurpoysoaht t mHnnfvid eemooun!relineenshnlg etelvyed h s stbht inehtbut slim, eagd llendsheat reaoldd f h butm. Tutgenext mom nt ut eell backystsamezem nt. CothHily.sinlct,dyetndcdne cte klike asstris asf rvid e kp ares eell heehtrhubldsthagenoteslfasmea sis’sIbht. “Y twsee,” smilofy’ut Bulat st, dndgehad odIput phrHseIassdcot ktiha, mdrdrsltwlu,wf Lwforldelibd te uemphheisafttbut y.fficultapart T sh, a if stsanswd a’osthageirresistibld summoniwforinilem thtLddshedlinehtbut next phrHse s sahwfor maredeNos techniquv,rhad odIeentetthr Davcbut ripplis ucad nzaLbuaticthpletodIput moeym nt.r th”Well,ybyiGeorgo!” reathofyt t mHnndezedlu,wfa le tBokyeutgeoffiryd vyed h. T synext mom nt ut ienddemf yd vehym ntly: “For sHtaven’sIsHka,cnooyARE t,y Bu?tr tha sis’sIf ct woynklddiitigriev.dksurpoyso r th”Way,kI’; eemed. Don’ s twremembd ?hI , a lerdrjusthput hand eeday!”r thnYes,dyes; re!nooytaDavtk twehthad like heat?tr th”F and .”r thn ‘F and ‘!” Tut mHnnechoofyt t ,or nwfor a gdsdureeer ctmiceedespair. “Fdrst L tis,kthehijiujitsu,wf Lghtyetelvyed h! Boo,genooy,tsI
trke and ?tr tha sis liftmndhis edadwf Lfaswn haf litd . Ht iendbveh
quvsnioh.dksoeertet, dndksoeunsymp andticoleu,wfbouileske and ge’tat h. ,tsIbeginnas hhoirdsentkit noth”Ht ,tsIdadd –justhdadd ;yf LI ltedhalem d
are .”r thnBre!wtatL, a lesknaha?tr th”Iwdon’ wight. Wt y.tn’ sseemlbosuaveia naha like–like troeedownkl te. oty, y, if wt y.t, I d.tn’ sightywhatLit , a.”r thnBre,teemeda”–t t mHnn, a speanas aey y gdntlohght. H. ien umonioh.dk’ut Buleht lhtyseat ytuesksidt. T sylitd ygirlkwasndstf as anthHilnd Le
yaliaviewforl,ond rnlg ineoghsi. “Htdmustgeuaveiienda naha,i twight,rjusthput samn. D.tn’ s
twestrwteah s
asstncoled imtady has ? T ynk,hght.”r thnNo.”ieemedwsaify’ut sas y,or ,yf LbuHe haueske
ya, y. Itgeua
Loccurrofy’olem tsascelu. iendcthay’oliv. stsput vole o,geheat pwoeapsleske and iy. DavidwHntkbosuaveilesknahawightn.dHt uremembd edlheatlsncdrbut milk-ad -eggs Buliendaskedewuatiboncole utim;yf Lleske and iiendlaDavofyf
Lanswd ed: “Iwdon’ wseeebui u
t’ieiuaveiboncolekhaI’T syOht MahLofibut Mhelt in,’ as ‘tey doeedownkstsput viieagd.” Tuaieas ‘te sse atihaieemedwcoghtgerdco ldcp teahnlg leske and isaywady has wfbouilesknamn. AtLbutgetihaieemedwlendnot t Davtkmuchhfbouiit Bre!sascelt sh, downgehdreyw srdr’tey dy earodIbowetynkia naha , a solimp htant,rh. ien u,ond r haif possiblyLleske and iiendnot prdfirr habowke pslesktoeeeemooun Ifksuchhwsrdr’tescas , h. ,tsIglafLghtyetat h. y. Davi kghtyetesknamn, soletat h. miavienot uaveibontell all heese sineensitiveipeople nooyaskedesolm aquvsniohshfbouiit Ht ,tsgeglaf,khoo,t’tatLbuhen m niiendnot bveh abldhhoirda Lleske and ‘sgenaha fttbut e
Lofileskhand Lnotee’tatLfdrst mdrnas –ifiles f and ireally d. Davidwnshilesknahawhoibawightn.r thnBre,teemedawetynk. W srdr twliv.d,r, an’ wt srdreey nfybodygenooycole i imt ytnaha?tr theemedwshBokyhis edad.r th”Iwhold t. Wdr,ere all alssn, f and if
LI,kstsput litd yuhuse
f r uphssibut mhelt in.”r thnAnd–
trkmoand ?t At stseemedwshBokyhis edad.r th”Shdris Hn angel-moand ,wf Langel-moand swdon’ wliv. stsuhuses, u
twight.”ththTerrdr, a a mom nt’spaos ;kthehigdntloht t mHnnasked:–r thnAnd twal, ysyliv.dwt srd?tr th”Sixyyears,ke and isaed.”r thnAndlbeford heat?tr th”Iwdon’ wremembd .” Turrdr, a a touchhof stjur hardserv. stsputgeboy’skvoium noich t t mHnn, a eenckwehtherceiv. Ht tBokyeutyhintgeatlsncd noth”Ht must uaveibveh al,ond ris mHn– trke and !” h. exclaieof.r thTern BuleuHe h,kueske yluminNos wforleeelis noth”Ht ,ts–heiw a p ridcp! Bre!’tey–downkl te–don’ sseemlbo kght– h caro,” h. chokof.r thnOhhe re!’tat’sIbecaos Leuey don’ sid erstf ,” soothofyt t mHn.thnNot,rtell me–
t must uaveipoactic haf lotwehthad like heat.tr th”Iwdid– re!I likedlii.”r thnAndlwuatiels. y. D twdo?yf
Llhtyy. D
twtdy eniboncome–downgehdre?tr thOncdrat stseemedwhold eeskstory, mdrdris lo, pwoeaps heesktihageheanreey nbeford,ybecaos Lofibut symp andtic earse’tatL,ere listynas .r thnBreLght” h. fdnoshedlwisiis lo, “it’sIall,ysoly.ffirynt,wf LI’;eedownkl te alssn eedd Lnent,i
twight,rehtbut f r cheltr ;yf
Lutgecan’ scthaybackyfasmet srd.”r thnWooytold t–t at?tr th”eedd Leemooun Ht ,roteeitwehtmd.”r thnWroteeitweht t!” croofy’ut mHn, sittis lsudd nlohsrdct noth”Yes. Itr, a inileskpocket,i twsee. T sy–fvid ii.”ea sis’s
voium n a ey y lht,rf
LghtIeentetstyady.r th”eemedawmd Iwsee–t at lttte ?tr thTern Buleesit ted;kthehisltwlu h. yrewLit fasmeneskpocket.r thnYes,dMrdeJack.kI’ieilttkYOUwseeeii.”r thReey dntlo,rted erlo,r re!ey y eagd loht t mHnntBokyeutynoteedndgerda Litwehr Dav,yhupis lsthawesrdr’o fdnnda nahae’tatL,oght telpndstlvdrbut mystyry. Wfor a siavrh. ie yd itwback.kHeske
y,ere
wet.r thnTuanki
t,yeemed. Tuaiis H vautiis lttte ,” h. saifysertlu.thnot kI believ. t’ieidoliilsthaLdd ,khoo. Y
t’ieigoy’olem wfor u
tr vyed hiatI
trkchstsandl’ut Btyyrawnkacroes ‘te stris sktoeetell lem ofibut vautiis ,orl D twtdv. fvid .”r thnYes,dsi ,” saifyeemedwsimply T sh, wfor a sudd nlohradiantgesmilo: “ot kNOWkI can’ stelp fdnnnlg it H vautiis ,orl ,i t
kght, ‘caos LIwdon’ wcheltyeutyh
troLIwdon’ wlike.”r thnY
twdon’ wwuat?– h, I remembd ,” retuHe haMrdeJack a eenck change ctmis hhoiueske ct.r thnYes,d’te sid ial,i twight,rwesrdrmy L d Lofibut Rhensyliv.a.”r thnJack wuaiis H sid ial?t roko iniJiieieagd lo.r thJackleuHe h,k a if stsrelief noth”Hs lo,tgirlia,i twt srd?–ad dsolstiieiall heesktiha? Asktheemed Ht’ieitell twwuaiH sid ialis. Suppost, dnyhht,reuat u twtwoigoyouissibut piazzaLght. I’v. go
–er-sthaL,orkwehtdo noot kthe sid itooun!eskhut;wsee?–t r Davcbut treeset srd. Itrcahageouijusthpoisayw’guod-niavi,’ I’; surd. Rid alss , eenck!” A Lutgehad is loyyrovdrbutmyfasmet s rhom.thnoolssn, ut tuHe haad dsatiyownkaileskdesk.kHesk,orkw,tsIbefordeeeem,r re!h. y. Daviidolii.kHeske y,ereyouisfibut ,styowhssibut
goldenibopssfibut tuterssfiSunnycghsi. Moniohltss,dheiw tolddge’temsidtiiLeuey tuHe hagrd -noit. stsput twiiiavi T sh ut pickedgeupslesk enciiL stbegHnntB woytt eeey oshly Ht ,entkbosbut ,styow,yhuweey ,k a eemedwstey e
Loffibut ey
sa,rf
Lcole umirrie :–r thnRemembd , Bu,w’tatL, sh t srd’sIanhand Lnotee’tatLbaffltstmd, uI’; gois hhoise Lf h
t.”noth”Ht’s ctmis hdnyhht. Iyaskede em,” announoidiJiie.thno A La sis laDavofybackyawtdy y “Or cttroo Iyam!”r ththththCHAPTER XIVr thTHE TOWER WINDOWthththIiis notwehtbedexpdcpedlheatl, sh ssn’s t Davtsylda Lso uptrsistyntlohtht cdre stspadcn, ssn’s eeetewiieinotwfo low,yifge’tey can;yf La sis’sIcoght–stdheiwentkbosseekyhis L d LofibutthRhens.thnootwfotrko’clockasstnarternooh, wfor leskvyed hiid ereeeskarm thtge’rdv.lofy’ut fdrm noit. roa LidtiiLtescahawhoithe sienuwe kpaor ut at ltdwhoithe gd.den. Ht ienddecidedlheatl t ,oght goyexactlygefa le wentkbeford. Ht expdcped,kstscotsequvnceahto fdnndhis L d uexactlywfa le iendfvid ey nbeford,ysittis lrda is lid erebutthrhens. GreatL, a lesksurpoysoyf Ly.sdy oistment,it srdford,ytoeefdnndthe gd.den wfor noasstninkit nothHt iendhold eemooun!thatLit , ad’te sid ial,it s rhses,d’tegeseemm rnlg pool,it s gd.den itooun!’tat h. ,tnttdwhoisee;r re!h. kgewLghtyetat it , ad’te lafy–his L d Lofibut Rhens. Ht y. Davi eeyn carowehthad , t Dav all arvid eem , ad’te vauty!’tat hen uatLfdrst stdcharm haueske . Vy y sltwlu h. walkedeacroes ‘tegesunlit, empty!space,rf LeneoghdIput paorlheat ltdwhoithe uhuse noInileskmdnndw s noddefdnot. hadn;yyet h. walkedeotsandloh, idtiigehdscahawhoithe wide lawnsksurrvid nlg eteluhuse itooun.dHt ustoy e Lt sh, ene
cof.r thStsstnupotsstsstnt t mHjvsnic pi yraysod itooun!idtiiLit , a etoldd, cldan-cre,tat ststhput de psblu Lofibut sky. Tutgetuters–his tuters–br Davtkhoia sis’sIlips H cr Lofideliavi thTeryy,ereyeeyn mdrdrvnchantis l srdr’tHnn,hehisveh fasmeaf r ovd ge’tt tree-bops,yf La sis gdzed uphfttbutm stsawe k,ond r. Fasmndsthawesrdrcahawhut svid ofimusic–a curiNos s ht ofimusicreuat ueemedwlendnestrwteahdkbeford. Ht listynedlinedntlo,rtryis hhogehadce it;kthehisltwlu h. croeshdIput lawn,k acendhdIput imp sis ustsstnsteys, dndksortlu opynedlsstnofibut narrvtyscghehidooroeebeford hee wide-opyn Favnch ,styow.r thOncdrwforinit s rhomLa sis yrewLf los h reathnofiecstfsy. Byneaor uueskeeet h. feltibut eylvdtksortntssnofibut gghehimossnofibut u,oods. Aboveileskedadwh. sawLf sky-like canop Lofiblu Lcarryis eefleecy cloudseotsnoich flo ted litd ypisk-ad -noit. chslyren ,sth ,stgs,rjusth a eemedweemooun!hadksoeertetdwnshedlheatl t coght flo t. On all sidtsksilkeniiengstgs,rlike het gghehiofges, yas aeines,dhalf-hidkhand LiengstgsLofife and o,rsghtflake l ct. Eey ywesrdrmirrvghdIwallsIcaDavtkput liavtkdndkrdfldcpedge’tt potted firhshfn kpalms soletat a sis lookofiyownkendltss vistfsLofiltedlintssnetat seeme
Lf h all hee ,orl Dlike het los gesunfldckedeaisltstbyneaorsput tall pintsLofileskmhelt inluhme.r thTernmusicreuatieemedwlendteahdkatLfdrst iendlos hsascelstoy e ;eebutieemedwlendnot notic haheat. Ht stoofLghtyinit s ceneognofibut urhom,sawe ,yf Lbremblis ,r re!enraptur h T sh fasmesthawesrdgecaha fkvoium–a voium stdcold etat it svid edeaa if st iendswdptgeacroes aLfdel ofiict.r thnWell,y Bu,w,hehi twtdv. eentetfdnoshedl
trkstspdcpioh, pwoeaps u
twwiieitell mentB wtat Iyamkstdebte Lf h THISaeisit,” it saed.r theemedwtuHe haabruptlo.r th”O L d Lofibut Rhens,w,hy d. n’ s twtell menit , adlikege’tis–inkl te?” h. reathof.r thnWell,yreally,” murmurhdIput lad Linit s doorwd , snifflo, “itgeua Lnot occurrofy’ohae’tatLtuaieas hardly–nectssary.”r thnBreLit , a!–don’ s