"I'm twelve, ma'am, and can ride any thing onfour legs;" and the small boy gave a nod thatseemed to say, "Bring on your Cruisers. I'm readyfor 'em.""Haven't you got any folks?" asked Mrs. Moss,amused but still anxious, for the sunburnt face wasvery thin, the eyes hollow with hunger or pain, andthe ragged figure leaned on the wheel as if too weakor weary to stand alone.

 

　　"No, 'm, not of my own; and the people I wasleft with beat me so, I -- run away." The last wordsseemed to bolt out against his will as if the woman'ssympathy irresistibly won the child's confidence.

 

　　"Then I don't blame you. But how did you gethere?""I was so tired I couldn't go any further, andI thought the folks up here at the big housewould take me in. But the gate was locked, and Iwas so discouraged, I jest laid down outside andgive up.""Poor little soul, I don't wonder," said Mrs. Moss,while the children looked deeply interested at mentionof their gate.

 

　　The boy drew a long breath, and his eyes began totwinkle in spite of his forlorn state as he went on,while the dog pricked up his ears at mention of hisname: --"While I was restin' I heard some one come alonginside, and I peeked, and saw them little girls playin'.

 

　　The vittles looked so nice I couldn't help wantin'

 

　　'em; but I didn't take nothin', -- it was Sancho, andhe took the cake for me."Bab and Betty gave a gasp and stared reproachfullyat the poodle, who half closed his eyes with a meek,unconscious look that was very droll.

 

　　"And you made him put it back?" cried Bab.

 

　　"No; I did it myself. Got over the gate when youwas racin' after Sancho, and then clim' up on the porchand hid," said the boy with a grin.

 

　　"And you laughed?" asked Bab.

 

　　"Yes.""And sneezed?" added Betty.

 

　　"Yes.""And threw down the roses?" cried both.

 

　　"Yes; and you liked 'em, didn't you?""Course we did! What made you hide?" saidBab.

 

　　"I wasn't fit to be seen," muttered Ben, glancingat his tatters as if he'd like to dive out of sight intothe dark coach again.

 

　　"How came you here?" demanded Mrs. Moss,suddenly remembering her responsibility.

 

　　"I heard 'em talk about a little winder and a shed,and when they'd gone I found it and come in. Theglass was broke, and I only pulled the nail out. Ihaven't done a mite of harm sleepin' here two nights.

 

　　I was so tuckered out I couldn't go on nohow, thoughI tried a-Sunday.""And came back again?

 

　　"Yes, 'm; it was so lonesome in the rain, and thisplace seemed kinder like home, and I could hear 'emtalkin' outside, and Sanch he found vittles, and I waspretty comfortable.""Well, I never!" ejaculated Mrs. Moss, whiskingup a corner of her apron to wipe her eyes, for thethought of the poor little fellow alone there for twodays and nights with no bed but musty straw, no foodbut the scraps a dog brought him, was too much forher. "Do you know what I'm going to do withyou?" she asked, trying to look calm and cool, with agreat tear running down her wholesome red cheek, anda smile trying to break out at the corners of her lips.

 

　　"No, ma'am, and I dunno as I care. Only don'tbe hard on Sanch; he's been real good to me, andwe 're fond of one another; ain't us, old chap?"answered the boy, with his arm around the dog'sneck, and an anxious look which he had not wornfor himself.

 

　　"I'm going to take you right home, and wash and feedand put you in a good bed; and to-morrow, --well, we'll see what'll happen then," said Mrs. Moss,not quite sure about it herself.

 

　　"You're very kind, ma'am, I'll be glad to workfor you. Ain't you got a horse I can see to?" askedthe boy, eagerly.

 

　　"Nothing but hens and a cat."Bab and Betty burst out laughing when their mothersaid that, and Ben gave a faint giggle, as if he wouldlike to join in if he only had the strength to do it.

 

　　But his legs shook under him, and he felt a queer dizziness;so he could only hold on to Sancho, and blinkat the light like a young owl.

 

　　"Come right along, child. Run on, girls, and putthe rest of the broth to warming, and fill the kettle.

 

　　I'll see to the boy," commanded Mrs. Moss, wavingoff the children, and going up to feel the pulse of hernew charge, for it suddenly occurred to her that hemight be sick and not safe to take home.

 

　　The hand he gave her was very thin, but clean andcool, and the black eyes were clear though hollow,for the poor lad was half-starved.

 

　　"I'm awful shabby, but I ain't dirty. I had awashin' in the rain last night, and I've jest about livedon water lately," he explained, wondering why shelooked at him so hard.

 

　　"Put out your tongue."He did so, but took it in again to say quickly, --"I ain't sick, -- I'm only hungry; for I haven't hada mite but what Sanch brought, for three days; andI always go halves, don't I, Sanch?"The poodle gave a shrill bark, and vibrated excitedlybetween the door and his master as if he understood allthat was going on, and recommended aspeedy march toward the promised food and shelter.

 

　　Mrs. Moss took the hint, and bade the boy follow herat once and bring his "things" with him.

 

　　"I ain't got any. Some big fellers took away mybundle, else I wouldn't look so bad. There's onlythis. I'm sorry Sanch took it, and I'd like to give itback if I knew whose it was," said Ben, bringing thenew dinner-pail out from the depths of the coachwhere he had gone to housekeeping.

 

　　"That's soon done; it's mine, and you're welcome to thebits your queer dog ran off with. Comealong, I must lock up," and Mrs. Moss clanked herkeys suggestively.

 

　　Ben limped out, leaning on a broken hoe-handle,for he was stiff after two days in such damp lodgings,as well as worn out with a fortnight's wanderingthrough sun and rain. Sancho was in great spirits,evidently feeling that their woes were over and hisforaging expeditions at an end, for he frisked abouthis master with yelps of pleasure, or made playfuldarts at the ankles of his benefactress, which causedher to cry, "Whish!" and "Scat!" and shake herskirts at him as if he were a cat or hen.

 

　　A hot fire was roaring in the stove under the broth-skilletand tea-kettle, and Betty was poking in morewood, with a great smirch of black on her chubbycheek, while Bab was cutting away at the loaf as ifbent on slicing her own fingers off. Before Ben knewwhat he was about, he found himself in the old rocking-chairdevouring bread and butter as only a hungryboy can, with Sancho close by gnawing a mutton-bonelike a ravenous wolf in sheep's clothing.

 

　　While the new-comers were thus happily employed, Mrs.

 

　　Moss beckoned the little girls out ofthe room, and gave them both an errand.

 

　　"Bab, you run over to Mrs. Barton's, and ask herfor any old duds Billy don't want; and Betty, you goto the Cutters, and tell Miss Clarindy I'd like a coupleof the shirts we made at last sewing circle. Any shoes,or a hat, or socks, would come handy, for the poordear hasn't a whole thread on him."Away went the children full of anxiety to clothetheir beggar; and so well did they plead his causewith the good neighbors, that Ben hardly knew himself whenhe emerged from the back bedroom half anhour later, clothed in Billy Barton's faded flannel suit,with an unbleached cotton shirt out of the Dorcasbasket, and a pair of Milly Cutter's old shoes on hisfeet.

 

　　Sancho also had been put in better trim, for, afterhis master had refreshed himself with a warm bath, hegave his dog a good scrub while Mrs. Moss set a stitchhere and there in the new old clothes; and Sanchoreappeared, looking more like the china poodle thanever, being as white as snow, his curls well brushedup, and his tasselly tail waving proudly over hisback.

 

　　Feeling eminently respectable and comfortable, thewanderers humbly presented themselves, and weregreeted with smiles of approval from the little girls anda hospitable welcome from the mother, who setthem near the stove to dry, as both were decidedlydamp after their ablutions.

 

　　"I declare I shouldn't have known you!" exclaimedthe good woman, surveying the boy with great satisfaction;for, though still very thin and tired, the ladhad a tidy look that pleased her, and a lively way ofmoving about in his clothes, like an eel in a skin rathertoo big for him. The merry black eyes seemed tosee every thing, the voice had an honest sound, andthe sunburnt face looked several years younger sincethe unnatural despondency had gone out of it.

 

　　"It's very nice, and me and Sanch are lotsobliged, ma'am," murmured Ben, getting red andbashful under the three pairs of friendly eyes fixedupon him.

 

　　Bab and Betty were doing up the tea-things withunusual despatch, so that they might entertain theirguest, and just as Ben spoke Bab dropped a cup.

 

　　To her great surprise no smash followed, for, bendingquickly, the boy caught it as it fell, and presented itto her on the back of his hand with a little bow.

 

　　"Gracious ! how could you do it? "asked Bab, looking as ifshe thought there was magic about.

 

　　"That's nothing; look here," and, taking two plates,Ben sent them spinning up into the air, catching andthrowing so rapidly that Bab and Betty stood withtheir mouths open, as if to swallow the plates shouldthey fall, while Mrs. Moss, with her dish-cloth suspended,watched the antics of her crockery with a housewife's anxiety.

 

　　"That does beat all! " was the only exclamationshe had time to make; for, as if desirous of showinghis gratitude in the only way he could, Ben tookclothes-pins from a basket near by, sent several saucerstwirling up, caught them on the pins,balanced the pins on chin, nose, forehead, and wentwalking about with a new and peculiar sort of toadstoolornamenting his countenance.

 

　　The children were immensely tickled, and Mrs.

 

　　Moss was so amused she would have lent her bestsoup-tureen if he had expressed a wish for it. ButBen was too tired to show all his accomplishmentsat once, and he soon stopped, looking as if he almostregretted having betrayed that he possessed any.

 

　　"I guess you've been in the juggling business,"said Mrs. Moss, with a wise nod, for she saw the samelook on his face as when he said his name was BenBrown, -- the look of one who was not telling thewhole truth.

 

　　"Yes, 'm. I used to help Senor Pedro, the Wizardof the World, and I learned some of his tricks,"stammered Ben, trying to seem innocent.

 

　　"Now, look here, boy, you'd better tell me thewhole story, and tell it true, or I shall have to sendyou up to judge Morris. I wouldn't like to do that,for he is a harsh sort of a man; so, if you haven'tdone any thing bad, you needn't be afraid to speakout, and I'll do what I can for you," said Mrs. Moss,rather sternly, as she went and sat down in her rocking-chair,as if about to open the court.

 

　　"I haven't done any thing bad, and I ain't afraid,only I don't want to go back; and if I tell, may beyou'll let 'em know where I be," said Ben, much distressedbetween his longing to confide in his newfriend and his fear of his old enemies.

 

　　"If they abused you, of course I wouldn't. Tellthe truth, and I'll stand by you. Girls, you go forthe milk.""Oh, Ma, do let us stay! We'll never tell,truly, truly!" cried Bab and Betty, full of dismaybeing sent off when secrets were about to bedivulged.

 

　　"I don't mind 'em," said Ben handsomely.

 

　　"Very well, only hold your tongues. Now, boywhere did you come from?" said Mrs. Moss, as thelittle girls hastily sat down together on their privateand particular bench opposite their mother, brimmingwith curiosity and beaming with satisfaction at theprospect before them.