Both had worked hard that day, and were glad toretire to their favorite lounging-place, where Bab washappy trying to walk across the wide top bar withoutfalling off, and Betty enjoyed slow, luxurious swingswhile her sister was recovering from her tumbles. Onthis occasion, having indulged their respective tastes,they paused for a brief interval of conversation, sittingside by side on the gate like a pair of plump graychickens gone to roost.

 

　　"Don't you hope Ben will get his bag full? Weshall have such fun eating nuts evenings observedBab, wrapping her arms in her apron, for it was Octobernow, and the air was growing keen.

 

　　"Yes, and Ma says we may boil some in our littlekettles. Ben promised we should have half," answeredBetty, still intent on her cookery.

 

　　"I shall save some of mine for Thorny.""I shall keep lots of mine for Miss Celia.""Doesn't it seem more than two weeks since shewent away?""I wonder what she'll bring us."Before Bab could conjecture, the sound of a stepand a familiar whistle made both look expectantlytoward the turn in the road, all ready to cry out inone voice, "How many have you got?" Neitherspoke a word, however, for the figure which presentlyappeared was not Ben, but a stranger, -- a manwho stopped whistling, and came slowly on dustinghis shoes in the way-side grass, and brushing thesleeves of his shabby velveteen coat as if anxious tofreshen himself up a bit.

 

　　"It's a tramp, let's run away," whispered Betty,after a hasty look.

 

　　"I ain't afraid," and Bab was about to assume herboldest look when a sneeze spoilt it, and made herclutch the gate to hold on.

 

　　At that unexpected sound the man looked up,showing a thin, dark face, with a pair of sharp, blackeyes, which surveyed the little girls so steadily thatBetty quaked, and Bab began to wish she had atleast jumped down inside the gate.

 

　　"How are you?" said the man with a goodnaturednod and smile, as if to re-assure the round-eyedchildren staring at him.

 

　　"Pretty well, thank you, sir," responded Bab,politely nodding back at him.

 

　　"Folks at home? " asked the ,an, looking overtheir heads toward the house.

 

　　"Only Ma; all the rest have gone to be married.""That sounds lively. At the other place all thefolks had gone to a funeral," and the man laughed ashe glanced at the big house on the hill.

 

　　"Whh, do you know the Squire?" exclaimed Bab,much surprised and re-assured.

 

　　"Come on purpose to see him. Just strollinground till he gets back," with an impatient sort ofsigh.

 

　　"Betty thought you was a tramp, but I wasn'tafraid. I like tramps ever since Ben came,"explained Bab, with her usual candor.

 

　　"Who 's Ben!" and the man came nearer soquickly that Betty nearly fell backward. "Don'tyou be scared, Sissy. I like little girls, so you seteasy and tell me about Ben," he added, in a persuasivetone, as he leaned on the gate so near that bothcould see what a friendly face he had in spite of itseager, anxious look.

 

　　"Ben is Miss Celia's boy. We found him moststarved in the coach-house, and he's been here eversince," answered Bab, comprehensively.

 

　　"Tell me about it. I like tramps, too," andthe man looked as if he did very much, as Bab toldthe little story in a few childish words that werebetter than a much more elegant account.

 

　　"You were very good to the little feller," was allthe man said when she ended her somewhat confusedtale, in which she had jumbled the old coachand Miss Celia, dinner-pails and nutting, Sancho andcircuses.

 

　　"'Course we were! He's a nice boy and we arefond of him, and he likes us," said Bab, heartily.

 

　　" 'Specially me," put in Betty, quite at ease now,for the black eyes had softened wonderfully, and thebrown face was smiling all over.

 

　　"Don't wonder a mite. You are the nicest pairof little girls I've seen this long time," and the manput a hand on either side of them, as if he wanted tohug the chubby children. But he didn't do it; hemerely smiled and stood there asking questions tillthe two chatterboxes had told him every thing therewas to tell in the most confiding manner, for he verysoon ceased to seem like a stranger, and looked sofamiliar that Bab, growing inquisitive in her turn,suddenly said, --"Haven't you ever been here before? It seems asif I'd seen you.""Never in my life. Guess you've seen somebodythat looks like me," and the black eyes twinkled fora minute as they looked into the puzzled little facesbefore him, then he said, soberly, --"I'm looking round for a likely boy; don't youthink this Ben would suite me? I want just such alively sort of chap.""Are you a circus man?" asked Bab, quickly.

 

　　"Well, no, not now. I'm in better business.""I'm glad of it -- we don't approve of 'em; but Ido think they're splendid!"Bab began by gravely quoting Miss Celia, and endedwith an irrepressible burst of admiration whichcontrasted drolly with her first remark.

 

　　Betty added, anxiously: "We can't let Ben go anyway. I know he wouldn't want to, and Miss Celiawould feel bad. Please don't ask him.""He can do as he likes, I suppose. He hasn't gotany folks of his own, has he?""No, his father died in California, and Ben felt sobad he cried, and we were real sorry, and gave him apiece of Ma, 'cause he was so lonesome," answeredBetty, in her tender little voice, with a pleading lookwhich made the man stroke her smooth check andsay, quite softly, --"Bless your heart for that! I won't take himaway, child, or do a thing to trouble anybody that'sbeen good to him.""He 's coming now. I hear Sanch barking at thesquirrels!" cried Bab, standing up to get a goodlook down the road.

 

　　The man turned quickly, and Betty saw that hebreathed fast as he watched the spot where the lowsunshine lay warmly on the red maple at the corner.

 

　　Into this glow came unconscious Ben, whistling "RoryO'Moore," loud and Clear, as he trudged along with aheavy bag of nuts over his shoulder and the light fullon his contented face. Sancho trotted before andsaw the stranger first, for the sun in Ben's eyesdazzled him. Since his sad loss Sancho cherisheda strong dislike to tramps, and now he paused togrowl and show his teeth, evidently intending to warnthis one off the premises.

 

　　"He won't hurt you -- " began Bab, encouragingly;but before she could add a chiding word tothe dog, Sanch gave an excited howl, and flew at theman's throat as if about to throttle him.

 

　　Betty screamed, and Bab was about to go to therescue when both perceived that the dog was lickingthe stranger's face in an ecstasy of joy, and heard theman say as he hugged the curly beast, --"Good old Sanch!" I knew he wouldn't forgetmaster, and he doesn't""What's the matter?" called Ben, coming upbriskly, with a strong grip of his stout stick.

 

　　There was no need of any answer, for, as he cameinto the shadow, he saw the man, and stood lookingat him as if he were a ghost.

 

　　"It's father, Benny; don't you know me?" asked theman, with an odd sort of choke in his voice, as he thrustthe dog away, and held out both hands to the boy.

 

　　Down dropped the nuts, and crying, "Oh, Daddy,Daddy!" Ben cast himself into the arms of the shabbyvelveteen coat, while poor Sanch tore round them indistracted circles, barking wildly, as if that was theonly way in which he could vent his rapture.

 

　　What happened next Bab and Betty never stoppedto see, but, dropping from their roost, they wentflying home like startled Chicken Littles with theastounding news that "Ben's father has come alive,and Sancho knew him right away!"Mrs. Moss had just got her cleaning done up, andwas resting a minute before setting the table, but sheflew out of her old rocking-chair when the excitedchildren told the wonderful tale, exclaiming as theyended, --"Where is he? Go bring him here. I declare itfairly takes my breath away!"Before Bab could obey, or her mother composeherself, Sancho bounced in and spun round like aninsane top, trying to stand on his head, walk upright,waltz and bark all at once, for the good old fellowhad so los............