David Dunne. Maniates Belle Kanaris

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СКАЧАТЬ was a picnic or a surprise party in the country she always furnished the ice cream. Isn’t she married yet?”

      “No.”

      “Doesn’t she keep company with some lucky man?”

      “No,” again denied the boy emphatically.

      “What’s the matter? She used to be awfully pretty and sweet.”

      “She is now, but she don’t want any man.”

      “Well, now, David, that isn’t quite natural, you know. Why do you think she doesn’t want one?”

      “I heard say she was crossed once.”

      “Crossed, David? And what might that be?” asked Forbes in a delighted feint of perplexity.

      “Disappointed in love, you know.”

      “Yes; it all comes back now–the gossip of my boyhood days. She was going with a man when Barnabas’ wife died and left two children–one a baby–and Miss M’ri gave up her lover to do her duty by her brother’s family. So Barnabas never married again?”

      “No; Miss M’ri keeps house and brings up Jud and Janey.”

      “I remember Jud–mean little shaver. Janey must be the baby.”

      “She’s eight now.”

      “I remember you, David. You were a little toddler of four–all eyes. Your folks had a place right on the edge of town.”

      “We left it when I was six years old and came out here,” informed David.

      Forbes’ groping memory recalled the gossip that had reached him in the Far West. “Dunne went to prison,” he mused, “and the farm was mortgaged to defray the expenses of the trial.” He hastened back to a safer channel.

      “Miss M’ri was foolish to spoil her life and the man’s for fancied duty,” he observed.

      David bridled.

      “Barnabas couldn’t go to school when he was a boy because he had to work so she and the other children could go. She’d ought to have stood by him.”

      “I see you have a sense of duty, too. This county was always strong on duty. I suppose they’ve got it in for me because I ran away?”

      “Mr. Brumble says it was a wise thing for you to do. Uncle Larimy says you were a brick of a boy. Miss Rhody says she had no worry about her woodpile getting low when you were here.”

      “Poor Miss Rhody! Does she still live alone? And Uncle Larimy–is he uncle to the whole community? What fishing days I had with him! I must look him up and tell him all my adventures. I have planned a round of calls for to-night–Miss M’ri, Miss Rhody, Uncle Larimy–”

      “Tell me about your adventures,” demanded David breathlessly.

      He listened to a wondrous tale of western life, and never did narrator get into so close relation with his auditor as did this young ranchman with David Dunne.

      “I must go home,” said the boy reluctantly when Joe had concluded.

      “Come down to-morrow, David, and we’ll go fishing.”

      “All right. Thank you, sir.”

      With heart as light as air, David sped through the woods. He had found his Hero.

      CHAPTER II

      David struck out from the shelter of the woodland and made his way to his home, a pathetically small, rudely constructed house. The patch of land supposed to be a garden, and in proportion to the dimensions of the building, showed a few feeble efforts at vegetation. It was not positively known that the Widow Dunne had a clear title to her homestead, but one would as soon think of foreclosing a mortgage on a playhouse, or taking a nest from a bird, as to press any claim on this fallow fragment in the midst of prosperous farmlands.

      Some discouraged looking fowls picked at the scant grass, a lean cow switched a lackadaisical tail, and in a pen a pig grunted his discontent.

      David went into the little kitchen, where a woman was bending wearily over a washtub.

      “Mother,” cried the boy in dismay, “you said you’d let the washing go till to-morrow. That’s why I didn’t come right back.”

      She paused in the rubbing of a soaped garment and wrung the suds from her tired and swollen hands.

      “I felt better, David, and I thought I’d get them ready for you to hang out.”

      David took the garment from her.

      “Sit down and eat this ice cream Miss M’ri sent–no, I mean Joe Forbes sent you. There was more, but I sold it for half a dollar; and here’s a pail of eggs and a drawing of tea she wants you to sample. She says she is no judge of black tea.”

      “Joe Forbes!” exclaimed his mother interestedly. “I thought maybe he would be coming back to look after the estate. Is he going to stay?”

      “I’ll tell you all about him, mother, if you will sit down.”

      He began a vigorous turning of the wringer.

      The patient, tired-looking eyes of the woman brightened as she dished out a saucer of the cream. The weariness in the sensitive lines of her face and the prominence of her knuckles bore evidence of a life of sordid struggle, but, above all, the mother love illumined her features with a flash of radiance.

      “You’re a good provider, David; but tell me where you have been for so long, and where did you see Joe?”

      He gave her a faithful account of his dinner at the Brumble farm and his subsequent meeting with Joe, working the wringer steadily as he talked.

      “There!” he exclaimed with a sigh of satisfaction, “they are ready for the line, but before I hang them out I am going to cook your dinner.”

      “I am rested now, David. I will cook me an egg.”

      “No, I will,” insisted the boy, going to the stove.

      A few moments later, with infinite satisfaction, he watched her partake of crisp toast, fresh eggs, and savory tea.

      “Did you see Jud and Janey?” she asked suddenly.

      “No; they were at school.”

      “David, you shall go regularly to school next fall.”

      “No,” said David stoutly; “next fall I am going to work regularly for some of the farmers, and you are not going to wash any more.”

      Her eyes grew moist.

      “David, will you always be good–will you grow up to be as good a man as I want you to be?”

      “How good do you want me to be?” he asked dubiously.

      A radiant and tender smile played about her mouth.

      “Not goodygood, David; but will you always be honest, and brave, and kind, СКАЧАТЬ