Even then the pleasant lesson was not ended, forBen had an errand to town; and all the way he readbusily, tumbling over the hard words, and leavingbits which he did not understand to be explained atnight by Bab.

 

　　At "The First Settlements" he had to stop, for theschoolhouse was reached, and the book must be returned.

 

　　The maple-tree closet was easily found, anda little surprise hidden under the flat stone; for Benpaid two sticks of red and white candy for the privilegeof taking books from the new library.

 

　　When recess came, great was the rejoicing of thechildren over their unexpected treat, for Mrs. Mosshad few pennies to spare for sweets, and, somehow,this candy tasted particularly nice, bought out ofgrateful Ben's solitary dime. The little giris sharedtheir goodies with their favorite mates, but saidnothing about the new arrangement, fearing it wouldbe spoilt if generally known. They told their mother,however, and she gave them leave to lend their booksand encourage Ben to love learning all they could.

 

　　She also proposed that they should drop patch-work,and help her make some blue shirts for Ben. Mrs.

 

　　Barton had given her the materials, and she thoughtit would be an excellent lesson in needle-work as wellas a useful gift to Ben, -- who, boy-like, never troubledhimself as to what he should wear when his one suitof clothes gave out.

 

　　Wednesday afternoon was the sewing time; so thetwo little B's worked busily at a pair of shirt-sleeves,sitting on their bench in the doorway, while the rustyneedles creaked in and out, and the childish voicessang school-songs, with frequent stoppages for livelychatter.

 

　　For a week, Ben worked away bravely, and nevershirked nor complained, although Pat put many ahard or disagreeable job upon him, and chores grewmore and more distasteful. His only comfort wasthe knowledge that Mrs. Moss and the Squire weresatisfied with him; his only pleasure the lessons helearned while driving the cows, and recited in the eveningwhen the three children met under the lilacsto " play school."He had no thought of studying when he began,and hardly knew that he was doing it as he poredover the different books he took from the library.

 

　　But the little girls tried him with all they Possessed,and he was mortified to find how ignorant he was.

 

　　He never owned it in words, but gladly acceptedall the bits of knowledge they offered from their small store;getting Betty to hear him spell "just forfun;" agreeing to draw Bab all the bears and tigersshe wanted if she would show him how to do sumson the flags, and often beguiled his lonely labors bytrying to chant the multiplication table as they did.

 

　　When Tuesday night came round, the Squire paidhim a dollar, said he was "a likely boy," and mightstay another week if he chose. Ben thanked him andthought he would; but the next morning, after hehad put up the bars, he remained sitting on the toprail to consider his prospects, for he felt uncommonlyreluctant to go back to the society of rough Pat.

 

　　Like most boys, he hated work, unless it was of asort which just suited him; then he could toil like abeaver and never tire. His wandering life had givenhim no habits of steady industry; and, while he wasan unusually capable lad of his age, he dearly lovedto "loaf" about and have a good deal of variety andexcitement in his life.

 

　　Now he saw nothing before him but days of patientand very uninteresting labor. He was heartily sickof weeding; even riding Duke before the cultivatorhad lost its charms, and a great pile of wood lay inthe Squire's yard which he knew he would be setto piling up in the shed. Strawberry-picking wouldsoon follow the asparagus cultivation; then haying;and and so on all the long bright summer, without anyfun, unless his father came for him.

 

　　On the other hand, he was not obliged to stay aminute longer unless he liked. With a comfortablesuit of clothes, a dollar in his pocket, and a row ofdinner-baskets hanging in the school-house entry tosupply him with provisions if he didn't mind stealingthem, what was easier than to run away again?

 

　　Tramping has its charms in fair weather, and Benhad lived like a gypsy under canvas for years; so hefeared nothing, and began to look down the leafy roadwith a restless, wistful expression, as the temptationgrew stronger and stronger every minute.

 

　　Sancho seemed to share the longing, for he keptrunning off a little way and stopping to frisk andbark; then rushed back to sit watching his masterwith those intelligent eyes of his, which seemed tosay, "Come on, Ben, let us scamper down this pleasantroad and never stop till we are tired." Swallowsdarted by, white clouds fled before the balmy westwind, a squirrel ran along the wall, and all thingsseemed to echo the boy's desire to leave toil behindand roam away as care-free as they. One thing restrainedhim, the thought of his seeming ingratitudeto good Mrs. Moss, and the disappointment of thelittle girls at the loss of their two new play-fellows.

 

　　While he paused to think of this, something happenedwhich kept him from doing what he would have beensure to regret afterward.

 

　　Horses had always been his best friends, and onecame trotting up to help him now; though he didnot know how much he owed it till long after. Justin the act of swinging himself over the bars to take ashortcut across the fields, the sound of approachinghoofs, unaccompanied by the roll of wheels, caughthis ear; and, pausing, he watched eagerly to see whowas coming at such a pace.

 

　　At the turn of road, however, the quick trotstopped, and in a moment a lady on a bay mare camepacing slowly into sight, -- a young and pretty lady,all in dark blue, with a bunch of dandelions likeyellow stars in her button-hole, and a silver-handledwhip hanging from the pommel of her saddle, evidentlymore for ornament than use. The handsomemare limped a little, and shook her head as if somethingplagued her; while her mistress leaned downto see what was the matter, saying, as if she expectedan answer of some sort,--"Now, Chevalita, if you have got a stone in yourfoot, I shall have to get off and take it out. Whydon't you look where you step, and save me all thistrouble?""I'll look for you, ma'am; I'd like to!" said aneager voice so unexpectedly, that both horse and riderstarted as a boy came down the bank with a jump.

 

　　"I wish you would. You need not be afraid; Litais as gentle as a lamb," answered the young lady,smilint, as if amused by the boy's earnestness.

 

　　"She's a beauty, any way," muttered Ben, liftingone foot after another till he found the stone, andwith some trouble got it out.

 

　　"That was nicely done, and I'm much obliged.

 

　　Can you tell me if that cross-road leads to theElms?" asked the lady, as she went slowly on withBen beside her.

 

　　"No, ma'am; I'm new in these parts, and I onlyknow where Squire Morris and Mrs. Moss live.""I want to see both of them, so suppose you showme the way. I was here long ago, and thought Ishould remember how to find the old house with theelm avenue and the big gate, but I don't.""I know it; they call that place the Laylocks now,'cause there's a hedge of 'em all down the path andfront wall. It's a real pretty place; Bab and Bettyplay there, and so do I."Ben could not restrain a chuckle at the recollectionof his first appearance there, and, as if his merrimentor his words interested her, the lady said pleasantly,"Tell me all about it. Are Bab and Betty your sisters?"Quite forgetting his intended tramp, Ben plungedinto a copious history of himself and new-madefriends, led on by a kind look, an inquiring word,and sympathetic smile, till he had told every thing.

 

　　At the school-house corner he stopped and said,spreading his arms like a sign-post, --"That's the way to the Laylocks, and this is theway to the Squire's.""As I'm in a hurry to see the old house, I'll gothis way first, if you will be kind enough to give mylove to Mrs. Morris, and tell the Squire Miss Celia iscoming to dine with him. I won't say good-by,because I shall see you again."With a nod and a smile, the young lady canteredaway, and Ben hurried up the hill to deliver hismessage, feeling as if something pleasant was goingto happen; so it would be wise to defer running away,for the present at least.

 

　　At one o'clock Miss Celia arrived, and Ben had thedelight of helping Pat stable pretty Chevalita; then,his own dinner hastily eaten, he fell to work at thedetested wood-pile with sudden energy; for as heworked he could steal peeps into the dining-room,and see the curly brown head between the two gayones, as the three sat round the table. He could nothelp hearing a word now and then, as the windowswere open, and these bits of conversation filled himwith curiosity for the names "Thorny," Celia,"and "George" were often repeated, and an occasionalmerry laugh from the young lady sounded like musicin that usually quiet place.

 

　　When dinner was over, Ben's industrious fit lefthim, and he leisurely trundled his barrow to and frotill the guest departed. There was no chance forhim to help now, since Pat, anxious to get whatevertrifle might be offered for his services, was quitedevoted in his attentions to the mare and her mistress,till she was mounted and off. But Miss Celiadid not forget her little guide, and, spying a wistfulface behind the wood-pile, paused at the gate andbeckoned with that winning smile of hers. If tenPats had stood scowling in the way, Ben would havedefied them all; and, vaulting over the fence, he ranup with a shining face, hoping she wanted some lastfavor of him. Leaning down, Miss Celia slipped anew quarter into his hand, saying,"Lita wants me to give you this for taking thestone out of her foot.""Thank y', ma'am; I liked to do it, for I hate tosee 'em limp, 'specially such a pretty one as she is,"answered Ben, stroking the glossy neck with a lovingtouch.

 

　　"The Squire says you know a good deal abouthorses, so I suppose you understand the Houyhnhnmlanguage? I'm learning it, and it is very nice,"laughed Miss Celia, as Chevalita gave a little whinnyand snuffled her nose into Ben's pocket.

 

　　"No, miss, I never went to school.""That is not taught there. I'll bring you a bookall about it when I come back. Mr. Gulliver went tothe horse-country and heard the dear things speaktheir own tongue.""My father has been on the prairies, where there'slots of wild ones, but he didn't hear 'em speak. Iknow what they want without talkin'," answered Ben,suspecting a joke, but not exactly seeing what it was.

 

　　"I don't doubt it, but I won't forget the book.

 

　　Good-by, my lad, we shall soon meet again," andaway went Miss Celia as if she were in a hurry toget back.

 

　　"If she only had a red habit and a streamin' whitefeather, she'd look as fine as 'Melia used to. She is'most as kind and rides 'most as well. Wonderwhere she's goin' to. Hope she will come soon,"thought Ben, watching till the last flutter of the bluehabit vanished round the corner; and then he wentback to his work with his head full of the promisedbook, pausing now and then to chink the two silverhalves and the new quarter together in his pocket,wondering what be should buy with this vast sum.

 

　　Bab and Betty meantime had had a most excitingday; for when they went home at noon they foundthe pretty lady there, and she had talked to themlike an old friend, given them a ride on the littlehorse, and kissed them both good-by when they wentback to school. In the afternoon the lady was gone,the old house all open, and their mother sweeping,airing, in great spirits. So they had a splendidfrolic tumbling on feather-beds, beating bitsof carpet, opening closets, and racing from garret tocellar like a pair of distracted kittens.

 

　　Here Ben found them, and was at once overwhelmedwith a burst of news which excited him asmuch as it did them. Miss Celia owned the house,was coming to liver there, and things were to be madeready as soon as possible. All thought the prospecta charming one: Mrs. Moss, because life had beendull for her during the year she had taken charge ofthe old house; the little girls had heard rumors ofvarious pets who were coming; and Ben, learningthat a boy and a donkey were among them, resolvedthat nothing but the arrival of his father should tearhim from this now deeply interesting spot.

 

　　"I'm in such a hurry to see the peacocks and hearthem scream. She said they did, and that we'd laughwhen old Jack brayed," cried Bab, hopping about onone foot to work off her impatience.

 

　　"Is a faytun a kind of a bird? I heard her sayshe could keep it in the coach-house," asked Betty,inquiringly.

 

　　"It's a little carriage," and Ben rolled in the grass,much tickled at poor Betty's ignorance.

 

　　"Of course it is. I looked it out in the dic., andyou mustn't call it a payton, though it is spelt witha p," added Bab, who liked to lay down the law onall occasions, and did not mention that she had lookedvainly among the Vs till a school-mate set her right.

 

　　"You can't tell me much about carriages. But whatI want to know is where Lita will stay?" said Ben.

 

　　"Oh, she's to be up at the Squire's till things arefixed, and you are to bring her down. Squire cameand told Ma all about it, and said you were a boy tobe trusted, for he had tried you."Ben made no answer, but secretly thanked his starsthat he had not proved himself untrustworthy by runningaway, and so missing all this fun.

 

　　"Won't it be fine to have the house open all thetime? We can run over and see the pictures andbooks whenever we like. I know we can, Miss Celia isso kind," began Betty, who cared for these things morethan for screaming peacocks and comical donkeys.

 

　　"Not unless you are invited," answered theirmother, locking the front door behind her. "You'dbetter begin to pick up your duds right away, for shewon't want them cluttering round her front yard. Ifyou are not too tired, Ben, you might rake round alittle while I shut the blinds. I want things to looknice and tidy."Two little groans went up from two afflicted littlegirls as they looked about them at the shady bower,the dear porch, and the winding walks where theyloved to run "till their hair whistled in the wind," asthe fairy-books say.

 

　　"Whatever shall we do! Our attic is so hot andthe shed so small, and the yard always full of hensor clothes. We shall have to pack all our thingsaway, and never play any more," said Bab, tragically.

 

　　"May be Ben could build us a little house in theorchard," proposed Betty, who firmly believed thatBen could do any thing.

 

　　"He won't have any time. Boys don't care forbaby-houses," returned Bab, collecting her homelessgoods and chattels with a dismal face.

 

　　"We sha'n't want these much when all the newthings come; see if we do," said cheerful little Betty,who always found out a silver lining to every cloud.