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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52018 ***
+
+  TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
+
+  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
+
+  Bold text is denoted by =equal signs=.
+
+  Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
+  corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
+  the text and consultation of external sources.
+
+  More detail can be found at the end of the book.
+
+
+
+
+'TILDA JANE
+
+
+
+
+Works of
+
+Marshall Saunders
+
+
+  Rose à Charlitte
+  Her Sailor
+  Deficient Saints
+  For His Country and Grandmother and the Crow
+  'Tilda Jane
+
+
+  L. C. PAGE & COMPANY,
+  Publishers
+  200 Summer Street, Boston, Mass.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE SPELLED OUT THE INFORMATION, 'I AM AN ORPHAN.'"
+  (_See page 80_)]
+
+
+
+
+  'TILDA JANE
+
+  AN ORPHAN IN SEARCH OF A HOME
+
+  _A Story for Boys and Girls_
+
+  BY
+  MARSHALL SAUNDERS
+  AUTHOR OF "BEAUTIFUL JOE," "FOR HIS COUNTRY,"
+  "ROSE À CHARLITTE," "HER SAILOR,"
+  "DEFICIENT SAINTS," ETC.
+
+  Illustrated by
+  CLIFFORD CARLETON
+  _By courtesy of The Youth's Companion_
+
+  "My brother, when thou seest a poor man,
+  behold in him a mirror of the Lord."
+  --ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI.
+
+  [Illustration: (publisher's colophon)]
+
+  BOSTON
+  L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+  1901
+
+
+
+
+  _Copyright, 1901_
+  BY PERRY MASON COMPANY
+
+  _Copyright, 1901_
+  BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+  (Incorporated)
+
+  _All rights reserved_
+
+
+  Colonial Press
+  Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+  Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+  I DEDICATE THIS STORY TO
+  EMILE HUGUENIN, JEAN BRUN,
+  GERALD MUIR, SANFORD ROTHENBURG,
+  HARRY KRUGER, MAUGHS BROWN,
+  AND
+  ROBBIE MACLEAN,
+  BOYS OF BELMONT SCHOOL WHO USED TO GATHER ROUND ME
+  ON SUNDAY AFTERNOONS AND BEG FOR A MANUSCRIPT
+  READING OF THE TRIALS OF MY ORPHAN
+  IN SEARCH OF A HOME.
+
+
+
+
+  _Owing to the exigencies of serial publication, the story of
+  "'Tilda Jane," as it appeared in The Youth's Companion, was
+  somewhat condensed. In the present version the omitted portions
+  have been restored, and the story published in its original form._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                    PAGE
+
+  I.     A CREAMERY SHARK                      11
+
+  II.    EVEN SHARKS HAVE TENDER HEARTS        26
+
+  III.   THE STORY OF HER LIFE                 36
+
+  IV.    UNSTABLE AS WATER                     50
+
+  V.     ANOTHER ADVENTURE                     61
+
+  VI.    DEAF AND DUMB                         75
+
+  VII.   CLEARING UP A MISTAKE                 85
+
+  VIII.  A THIRD RUNNING AWAY                  94
+
+  IX.    LOST IN THE WOODS                    107
+
+  X.     AMONG FRIENDS                        121
+
+  XI.    A SUDDEN RESOLUTION                  136
+
+  XII.   FAREWELL TO THE POACHERS             151
+
+  XIII.  AN ATTEMPTED TRICK                   164
+
+  XIV.   HOME, SWEET HOME                     171
+
+  XV.    THE FRENCH FAMILY                    186
+
+  XVI.   THE TIGER IN HIS LAIR                194
+
+  XVII.  THE TIGER MAKES A SPRING             206
+
+  XVIII. IN SEARCH OF A PERFECT MAN           217
+
+  XIX.   SWEET AND SOFT REPENTANCE            230
+
+  XX.    WAITING                              240
+
+  XXI.   THE TIGER BECOMES A LAMB             246
+
+  XXII.  A TROUBLED MIND                      257
+
+  XXIII. AN UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE             266
+
+  XXIV.  A FRIEND IN NEED                     275
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
+
+
+                                                    PAGE
+
+  "SHE SPELLED OUT THE INFORMATION, 'I AM AN
+  ORPHAN'" (_See page 80_)                _Frontispiece_
+
+  "'WELL, I VUM!'"                                    15
+
+  "'TILDA JANE SAT LIKE A STATUE"                     45
+
+  "'I'M GOIN' TO REPENT SOME DAY'"                    92
+
+  "HE LAY DOWN BESIDE HER"                           116
+
+  "'STOP THAR--STOP! STOP!'"                         168
+
+  "'YOU ARE YOUNG FOR THAT, _MADEMOISELLE_,
+  YET--'"                                            190
+
+  "HE LIFTED UP HIS VOICE AND ROARED AT HER"         215
+
+  "'I'VE LED ANOTHER DOG ASTRAY, AN' NOW HE'S
+  DEAD'"                                             235
+
+  "'THEY WAS GLAD TO GET RID OF ME'"                 258
+
+
+
+
+'TILDA JANE.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A CREAMERY SHARK.
+
+
+The crows had come back. With the fashionables of Maine they had gone
+south for the winter, but now on the third day of March the advance
+guard of the solemn, black army soared in sight.
+
+They were cawing over the green pine woods of North Marsden, they
+were cawing over the black spruces of South Marsden, and in Middle
+Marsden, where the sun had melted the snow on a few exposed knolls,
+they were having a serious and chattering jubilation over their
+return to their summer haunts.
+
+"Land! ain't they sweet!" muttered a little girl, who was herself
+almost as elfish and impish as a crow. She stood with clasped hands
+in the midst of a spruce thicket. Her face was upturned to the hot
+sun set in the hard blue of the sky. The sun burned her, the wind
+chilled her, but she remained motionless, except when the sound of
+sleigh-bells was heard. Then she peered eagerly out into the road.
+
+Time after time she returned to her hiding-place with a muttered,
+"No good!" She allowed a priest to go by, two gossiping women on
+their way from the village to spend a day in the country, a minister
+hurrying to the sick-bed of a parishioner, and several loaded
+wood-sleds, but finally a hilarious jingle drew her hopefully from
+her retreat.
+
+Her small black eyes screwed themselves into two glittering points as
+she examined the newcomer.
+
+"He'll do!" she ejaculated; then, with a half-caressing,
+half-threatening, "You'll get murdered if there's a word out o' you,"
+addressed to an apparent roll of cloth tucked among spruce branches a
+few feet from the ground, she stepped out by the snake fence.
+
+"Hello, mister!"
+
+The fat young man bobbing over the "thank-you-ma'ams" of the snowy
+road, pulled himself up with a jerk in his small sleigh drawn by a
+long-legged mare.
+
+"Coronation! Where did that noise come from? Hello, wood-lark," as he
+observed the little girl peeping at him through the fence, "is there
+a hawk in your nest?"
+
+"Who be you?" she asked.
+
+"I've got an awful pretty name," he replied, flicking his whip over
+the snow-bank beside him, "too pretty to tell."
+
+"Who be you?" she asked, pertinaciously.
+
+"Ever hear tell of a creamery shark?"
+
+"I didn't know as sharks favoured cream," she said, soberly.
+
+"They dote on it."
+
+"Be you a creamery shark?"
+
+"No--course not. I'm chasing one. I'm a farmer."
+
+The small, keen-eyed girl looked him all over. He was the creamery
+shark himself, and he certainly had an oily, greasy appearance
+befitting his fondness for cream. However, she did not care what he
+was if he served her purpose.
+
+"Will you gimme a lift?" she asked.
+
+"A lift--where?"
+
+"Anywhere out o' this," and she pointed back to the smart, white
+village up the river.
+
+"Now what be you?" he said, cunningly.
+
+"I be a runaway."
+
+"What you running from?"
+
+"I'm a-runnin' from an orphan 'sylum."
+
+"Good for you--where you going?"
+
+"I'm goin' to Orstralia."
+
+"Better for you--what you going there for?"
+
+"'Cause," she said, firmly, "they know how to treat orphans there.
+They don't shut 'em up together like a lot o' sick pigs. They scatter
+'em in families. The gover'ment pays their keep till they get old
+enough to fend for themselves. Then they gets a sum o' money an' they
+works--I heard a lady-board readin' it in a newspaper."
+
+"A lady-board?"
+
+"Yes--lady-boards has to run 'sylums."
+
+"Course they do. Well, skip in, little un."
+
+[Illustration: "'WELL, I VUM!'"]
+
+"There's another passenger," she said, firmly; "an' them as takes me
+takes him."
+
+"Have you got your granddaddy along?"
+
+"No, siree, but I've got somethin' mos' as good as a granddaddy, an'
+I'd thank you to keep a straight tongue when you speak of him."
+
+The young man put the offending tongue in his cheek, and chuckled
+enjoyably as the small, elfish figure disappeared in the wood.
+Presently she returned with a good-sized bundle in her arms, that she
+thrust through the fence.
+
+"Give it a name," said the young man; "why, see how it's
+wiggling--must be some kind of an animal. Cat, weasel, rabbit, hen,
+dog--"
+
+"Stop there," she ejaculated; "let it be dog. His name's Gippie."
+
+"Well, I vum!" the young man said, good-naturedly, as she approached
+the sleigh and deposited her beshawled dog on his knees.
+
+"I guess this sleigh warn't built for two," she said, as she crawled
+in beside him.
+
+"Right you are; but you don't want to be carted far."
+
+"Gimme that dog," she said, taking the bundle, "an' start off.
+Prob'ly they're just hitchin' up to be after me."
+
+He clicked his tongue to the long-legged mare, and speedily fences
+and trees began to fly by them.
+
+"What did you twig me for?" asked the fat young man. "Ain't you had
+no other chance?"
+
+"Lots," she said, briefly.
+
+"There was an ole boy ahead o' me with a two-seated rig, an' a
+youngster on the back seat. Why didn't you freeze on to him?"
+
+She turned her little dark face toward him, a little face overspread
+by sudden passion. "D'ye know what that ole shell-back would 'a'
+done?"
+
+"He'd 'a' took ye in."
+
+"He'd 'a' druv me back to that 'sylum. He looked too good, that one.
+You looked like a baddie."
+
+"Much obliged," he said, dryly.
+
+"I guess you've done bad things," she said, inexorably. "You've stole
+pies, an' tole lies, an' fed dogs an' cats on the sly. I guess you've
+been found out."
+
+The fat young man fell into a sudden reverie, and they passed several
+white fields in silence.
+
+"They'll never ketch me," she said at last, gleefully; "we're goin'
+like the wind."
+
+The young man looked down at her. She had the appearance of a
+diminutive witch as she sat with one hand clasping her faded hat, the
+other holding firmly to the bundle on her lap. Her countenance was so
+much older and shrewder in some phases than in others that the young
+man was puzzled to guess her age.
+
+"Why, you ain't got any cloak," he said. "That's nothing but a dress
+you've got on, ain't it? Take the shawl off that dog."
+
+"No, sir," she said, decidedly, "I don't do that."
+
+"Hold on; I've got a horse blanket here," and he dived under the
+seat. "There!" and he wrapped it around her shoulders.
+
+"Thanks," she said, briefly, and again her bird-like eyes scanned the
+road ahead.
+
+"Hot cakes an' syrup!" she exclaimed, in a voice of resigned
+distress, "there's the North Marsden lady-board comin'. They must
+have 'phoned her. Say, mister, lemme sneak under here. If she holes
+you up, you'll have to tell a lie."
+
+The young man grinned delightedly as the little girl slipped through
+the blanket and disappeared under the lap-robe. Then he again went
+skimming over the snow.
+
+There was a very grand sleigh approaching him, with a befurred
+coachman on the seat driving a pair of roan horses, and behind him a
+gray-haired lady smothered in handsome robes.
+
+"Please stop!" she called pathetically, to the approaching young man.
+
+The creamery shark pulled up his mare, and blinked thoughtfully at
+her.
+
+"Oh, have you seen a little girl?" she said excitedly; "a poor little
+girl, very thin and miserable, and with a lame, brown dog limping
+after her? She's wandering somewhere--the unfortunate, misguided
+child. We have had such trouble with her at the Middle Marsden
+Asylum--the orphan asylum, you know. We have fed her and clothed her,
+and now she's run away."
+
+The fat young man became preternaturally solemn, the more so as he
+heard a low growl somewhere in the region of his feet.
+
+"Did she have black hair as lanky as an Injun's?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"And a kind o' sickly green dress?"
+
+"Oh, yes, and a dark complexion."
+
+"And a sort of steely air as if she'd dare the world?"
+
+"That's it; oh, yes, she wasn't afraid of any one."
+
+"Then I've sighted your game," he said, gravely, very gravely,
+considering that the "game" was pinching one of his legs.
+
+"I'll give you the scent," he went on. "Just follow this road till
+you come to the three pine-trees at the cross. Then turn toward
+Spruceville."
+
+"Oh, thank you, thank you. I'm ever so much obliged. But was she on
+foot or driving?"
+
+"Driving like sixty, sitting up on the seat beside a smooth old
+farmer with a red wig on, and a face as long as a church."
+
+"A red wig!" exclaimed the lady. "Why, that's Mr. Dabley--he's one of
+our advisory committee."
+
+"Dabley or Grabley, he's driving with one of your orphans. I see her
+as plain as day sitting beside him--brown face, faded black hat,
+sickly green frock, bundle on her lap."
+
+"Farmer Dabley--incredible! How one can be deceived. Drive on,
+Matthew. We must try to overtake them. Had he one horse or two?"
+
+"A pair, ma'am--a light-legged team--a bay and a cream. He's a
+regular old sport."
+
+"He's a Mephistopheles if he's helping that child to escape," said
+the lady, warmly. "I'll give him a piece of my mind."
+
+Her coachman started his horses, and the little girl under the robe
+was beginning to breathe freely when a shout from the young man
+brought her heart to her mouth.
+
+"Say, ma'am, was that a striped or a plain shawl she had her dog
+wrapped in?"
+
+"Striped--she had the impudence to steal it from the matron, and
+leave a note saying she did it because her jacket was locked up, and
+she was afraid her dog would freeze--I'm under a great obligation to
+you, sir."
+
+"No obligation," he said, lifting his hat. "I'm proud to set you on
+the chase after such a bad young one. That's your girl, ma'am. Her
+shawl was striped. I didn't tell you she had the nerve to ask me to
+take her in."
+
+"Not really--did she?" the lady called back; then she added,
+wonderingly, "but I thought you met her driving with Farmer Dabley?"
+
+They had both turned around, and were talking over their shoulders.
+
+There was a terrible commotion under the lap-robe, and the young man
+felt that he must be brief.
+
+"If you bark I'll break your neck," he heard the refugee say in a
+menacing whisper, and, to cover a series of protesting growls, he
+shouted, lustily, "Yes, ma'am, but first I passed her on foot. Then I
+turned back, and she was with the farmer. That young one has got the
+face of a government mule, but I'm used to mules, and when she asked
+me I said, ''Pears to me, little girl, you favour a runaway, and I
+ain't got no room for runaways in this narrow rig, 'specially as I'm
+taking a bundle of clothing to my dear old father'--likewise a young
+pig," he added, as there was a decided squeal from between his feet.
+
+"Thank you, thank you," came faintly after him as he started off at
+a spanking gait, and, "You're badder than I thought you was," came
+reproachfully from the tumbled head peeping above the lap-robe.
+
+"You're grateful!" he said, ironically.
+
+"I'm bad, but I only asked the Lord to forgive the lies I'd got to
+tell," said the little girl as she once more established herself on
+the seat. "You should 'a' said, 'No, ma'am, I didn't see the little
+girl'--an' druv on."
+
+"I guess you're kind of mixed in your opinions," he remarked.
+
+"I ain't mixed in my mind. I see things as straight as that air
+road," she replied. "I said, 'This is a bad business, for I've got to
+run away, but I'll be as square as I can.'"
+
+She paused suddenly, and her companion asked, "What's up with you?"
+
+"Nothin'," she said, faintly, "only I feel as if there was a rat
+inside o' me. You ain't got any crackers round, have you?"
+
+"No, but I've got something better," and he drew a flask from the
+pocket of his big ulster and put it to her mouth.
+
+Her nostrils dilated. "I'm a Loyal Legion girl."
+
+"Loyal Legion--what's that?"
+
+      "Beware of bottles, beware of cups,
+      Evil to him who evil sups."
+
+"Oh! a temperance crank," and he laughed. "Well, here's a hunk of
+cake I put in my pocket last night."
+
+The little girl ate with avidity the section of a rich fruit loaf he
+handed her.
+
+"How about your dog?" asked the young man.
+
+"Oh, I guess he ain't hungry," she said, putting a morsel against the
+brown muzzle thrust from the shawl. "Everythin' was locked up last
+night, an' there warn't enough lunch for him an' me--see, he ain't
+for it. He knows when hunger stops an' greed begins. That's poetry
+they taught us."
+
+"Tell us about that place you've been raised. No, stop--you're kind
+of peaked-looking. Settle down an' rest yourself till we pull up for
+dinner. I'll gabble on a bit if you'll give me a starter."
+
+"I guess you favour birds an' things, don't you?" she observed,
+shrewdly.
+
+"Yaw--do you?"
+
+"Sometimes I think I'm a bird," she said, vehemently, "or a worm or
+somethin'. If I could 'a' caught one o' them crows this mornin' I'd
+'a' hugged it an' kissed it. Ain't they lovely?"
+
+"Well, I don' know about lovely," said the young man, in a judicial
+manner, "but the crow, as I take him, is a kind of long-suffering
+orphan among birds. From the minute the farmers turn up these furrows
+under the snow, the crow works like fury. Grubs just fly down his
+red throat, and grasshoppers ain't nowhere, but because he now and
+then lifts a hill o' petetters, and pulls a mite o' corn when it gets
+toothsome, and makes way once in so often with a fat chicken that's
+a heap better out o' the world than in it, the farmers is down on
+him, the Legislature won't protect him, and the crow--man's good
+friend--gets shot by everybody and everything!"
+
+"I wish I was a queen," said the little girl, passionately.
+
+"Well, sissy, if you ever get to be one, just unmake a few laws that
+are passed to please the men who have a pull. Here in Maine you might
+take the bounty off bob-cats, an' let 'em have their few sheep, an'
+you might stand between the mink and the spawning trout, and if you
+want to put a check on the robins who make war on the cherries an'
+strawberries, I guess it would be more sensible than chasing up the
+crows."
+
+"I'm remarkin' that you don't beat your horse," said his companion,
+abruptly.
+
+"That mare," said the young man, reflectively, "is as smart as I be,
+and sometimes I think a thought smarter."
+
+"You wouldn't beat that little dog," she said, holding up her bundle.
+
+"Bet your striped shawl I wouldn't."
+
+"I like you," she said, emphatically. "I guess you ain't as bad as
+you look."
+
+The young man frowned slightly, and fell into another reverie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+EVEN SHARKS HAVE TENDER HEARTS.
+
+
+The old Moss Glen Inn, elm-shaded and half covered by creeping vines,
+is a favourite resort for travellers in the eastern part of Maine,
+for there a good dinner can be obtained in a shorter space of time
+than in any other country hotel in the length and breadth of the
+State.
+
+"And all because there's a smart woman at the head of it," explained
+the young man to the little waif beside him. "There she is--always on
+hand."
+
+A round, good-natured face, crowning a rotund, generous figure,
+smiled at them from the kitchen window, but while the eyes smiled,
+the thick, full lips uttered a somewhat different message to a tall,
+thin woman, bending over the stove.
+
+"Ruth Ann, here's that soapy Hank Dillson round again,--takin' in the
+farmers, as usual, engagin' them to pay for machinery and buildings
+more than are needed, considerin' the number of their cows, an' he's
+got a washed-out lookin' young one with him. She'll make a breach in
+the victuals, I guess."
+
+Ruth Ann, who was her sister and helper in household affairs, came
+and looked over her shoulder, just as Dillson sprang from the sleigh.
+
+Mrs. Minley stepped to the door, and stood bobbing and smiling as he
+turned to her.
+
+"How de do, Mrs. Minley. Give this little girl a place to lie down
+till dinner's ready, will you? She's dead beat."
+
+'Tilda Jane walked gravely into the kitchen, and although her head
+was heavy, and her feet as light as if they were about to waft her to
+regions above, she took time to scrutinise the broad face that would
+have been generous but for the deceitful lips, and also to cast a
+glance at the hard, composed woman at the window, who looked as if
+her head, including the knob of tightly curled hair at the back, had
+been carved from flint.
+
+"Step right in this way," said Mrs. Minley, bustling into a small
+bedroom on the ground floor.
+
+'Tilda Jane was not used to being waited on, and for one proud moment
+she wished that the children in the orphan asylum could see her. Then
+a feeling of danger and insecurity overcame her, and she sank on one
+of the painted, wooden chairs.
+
+"You're done out," said Mrs. Minley, sympathetically. "Are you a
+relation of Mr. Dillson's?"
+
+"No, I ain't."
+
+"You can lie on that bed if you like," said Mrs. Minley, noticing the
+longing glance cast at it.
+
+"Well, I guess I will," said 'Tilda Jane, placing her bundle on a
+chair, and stooping down to unloose her shoes.
+
+"Stop till I get some newspapers to put on the bed," said the
+landlady--"what's in that package? It's moving," and she stared at
+the shawl.
+
+"It's a dog."
+
+"Mercy me! I don't allow no dogs in my house."
+
+"All right," said the little girl, patiently putting on her shoes
+again.
+
+"What you going to do, child?"
+
+"I'm goin' to the wood-shed. Them as won't have my dog won't have me."
+
+"Land sakes, child, stay where you be! I guess he can't do no harm if
+you'll watch him."
+
+"No ma'am, he'll not rampage. He's little, an' he's ole, an' he's
+lame, an' he don't care much for walkin'. Sometimes you'll hear
+nothin' out o' him all day but a growl or a snap."
+
+The landlady drew away from the bundle, and after she had seen the
+tired head laid on the pillow, she softly closed the door of the room.
+
+In two minutes 'Tilda Jane was asleep. The night before she had not
+dared to sleep. To-day, under the protection of the creamery shark,
+she could take her rest, her hunger satisfied by the cake he had
+given her in the sleigh. The shark crept in once to look at her.
+"Ain't she a sight?" he whispered to Mrs. Minley, who accompanied
+him, "a half-starved monkey."
+
+She playfully made a thrust at his ribs. "Oh, go 'long with
+you--always making your jokes! How can a child look like a monkey?"
+
+He smiled, well pleased at her cajoling tone, then, stretching
+himself out in an armchair, he announced that dinner must be
+postponed for an hour to let the child have her sleep out.
+
+Mrs. Minley kept a pleasant face before him, but gave vent to some
+suppressed grumbling in the kitchen. With fortitude remarkable in a
+hungry man, he waited until one o'clock, then, losing patience, he
+ate his dinner, and, telling Mrs. Minley that he had business in the
+neighbourhood, and would not be back until supper-time, he drove away
+in his sleigh.
+
+At six o'clock 'Tilda Jane felt herself gently shaken, and opening
+her eyes, she started up in alarm.
+
+"All right--'tain't the police," said Mrs. Minley. "I know all about
+you, little girl. You needn't be scared o' me. Get up and have a bite
+of supper. Mr. Dillson's going away, and he wants to see you."
+
+'Tilda Jane rose and put on her shoes in silence. Then she followed
+the landlady to the next room. For an instant she staggered back.
+She had never before seen such a huge, open fireplace, never had had
+such a picture presented to her in the steam-heated orphanage. Fresh
+from troubled dreams, it seemed as if these logs were giants' bodies
+laid crosswise. The red flames were from their blood that was being
+licked up against the sooty stones. Then the ghastliness vanished,
+and she approvingly took in the picture,--the fat young creamery
+shark standing over the white cat and rubbing her with his toe, the
+firelight on the wall and snowy table, and the big lamp on the mantel.
+
+"Hello!" he exclaimed, turning around, "did you make your sleep out?"
+
+"Yes sir," she said, briefly. "Where shall I put this dog?"
+
+"Don't put him nowhere till we turn this cat out. Scat, pussy!" and
+with his foot he gently assisted the small animal kitchenwards.
+
+"Now you can roast your pup here," he said, pointing to the vacated
+corner.
+
+"Don't touch him," warned 'Tilda Jane, putting aside his outstretched
+hand. "He nips worse'n a lobster."
+
+"Fine dog that," said the young man, ironically. "Come on now, let's
+fall to. I guess that rat's rampaging again."
+
+"Yes, he's pretty bad," said 'Tilda Jane, demurely; and she seated
+herself in the place indicated.
+
+Mrs. Minley waited on them herself, and, as she passed to and fro
+between the dining-room and kitchen, she bestowed many glances on the
+lean, lank, little girl with the brown face.
+
+After a time she nudged Hank with her elbow. "Look at her!"
+
+Hank withdrew his attention for a minute from his plate to cast a
+glance at the downcast head opposite. Then he dropped his knife and
+fork. "Look here! I call this kind of low-down."
+
+'Tilda Jane raised her moist eyes.
+
+"You've got ham and eggs; fried petetters and toast, and two kinds
+of preserve, and hot rolls and coffee, and cake and doughnuts, which
+is more'n you ever got at the asylum, I'll warrant, and yet you're
+crying,--and after all the trouble you've been to me. There's no
+satisfying some people."
+
+'Tilda Jane wiped her eyes. "I ain't a-cryin' for the 'sylum," she
+said, stolidly.
+
+"Then what are you crying for?"
+
+"I'm cryin' 'cause it's such a long way to Orstralia, an' I don't
+know no one. I wish you was a-goin'."
+
+"I wish I was, but I ain't. Come on now, eat your supper."
+
+"I suppose I be a fool," she muttered, picking up her knife and fork.
+"I've often heard I was."
+
+"Hi now--I guess you feel better, don't you?" said the young man,
+twenty minutes later.
+
+He was in excellent humour himself, and, sitting tilted back in his
+chair by the fireplace, played a tune on his big white teeth with a
+toothpick.
+
+"Yes, I guess I'm better," said 'Tilda Jane, soberly. "That was a
+good supper."
+
+"Hadn't you better feed your pup?" asked the young man. "Seems to me
+he must be dead, he's so quiet."
+
+"He's plumb beat out, I guess," said the little girl, and she
+carefully removed the dog's queer drapery.
+
+A little, thin, old, brown cur staggered out, with lips viciously
+rolled back, and a curious unsteadiness of gait.
+
+"Steady, old boy," said the young man; "my soul and body, he ain't
+got but three legs! Whoa--you're running into the table."
+
+"He don't see very well," said 'Tilda Jane, firmly. "His eyes is
+poor."
+
+"What's the matter with his tail? It don't seem to be hung on right."
+
+"It wobbles from having tin cans tied to it. Gippie dear, here's a
+bone."
+
+"Gippie dear," muttered the young man. "I'd shoot him if he was my
+dog."
+
+"If that dog died, I'd die," said the little girl, passionately.
+
+"We've got to keep him alive, then," said the young man,
+good-humouredly. "Can't you give him some milk?"
+
+She poured out a saucer full and set it before him. The partially
+blind dog snapped at the saucer, snapped at her fingers until
+he smelled them and discovered whose they were, then he finally
+condescended to lick out the saucer.
+
+"And you like that thing?" said the young man, curiously.
+
+"Like him!--I love him," said 'Tilda Jane, affectionately stroking
+the brown, ugly back.
+
+"And when did he give away that leg?"
+
+She shook her head. "It's long to tell. I guess you'd ask me to shut
+up afore I got through."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE STORY OF HER LIFE.
+
+
+The young man said nothing more at the time, but ten minutes later,
+when he was thoughtfully smoking a long brown pipe, and 'Tilda Jane
+sat in a chair beside him, rocking her dog, he called out to Mrs.
+Minley, who was hovering about the room. "Sit down, Mrs. Minley.
+P'raps you can get this little girl to talk; I can't."
+
+'Tilda Jane turned sharply to him. "Oh, mister, I'd do anything for
+you. I'll talk."
+
+"Well, reel it off then. I've got to start soon."
+
+"What d'ye want to know?" she said, doggedly.
+
+"Everything; tell me where you started from. Was you born in the
+asylum?"
+
+"Nobody don't know where I was born. Nobody don't know who I am,
+'cept that a woman come to the poorhouse with me to Middle Marsden
+when I was a baby. She died, an' I was left. They give me the name
+of 'Tilda Jane Harper, an' put me in the 'sylum. Children come an'
+went. Just as soon as I'd get to like 'em they'd be 'dopted; I never
+was 'dopted, 'cause I'm so ugly. My eyes ought to 'a' been blue, an'
+my hair curly. I might 'a' been a servant, but my habits was in the
+way."
+
+"Habits--what habits?" asked Hank.
+
+"Habits of impidence an' pig-headedness. When the men come to kill
+the pigs I'd shut myself in my room, an' put my fingers in my ears,
+an' I couldn't hear, but I'd always squeal when the pigs squealed."
+
+"Is that why you wouldn't eat your ham just now?"
+
+"Oh, that ain't ham to me," she said, eloquently. "That bit o' red
+meat was a cunnin', teeny white pig runnin' round a pen, cryin'
+'cause the butcher's after him. I couldn't eat it, any more'n I'd eat
+my brother."
+
+"You're a queer little kite," interjected the young man, and he
+exchanged an amused glance with Mrs. Minley, who was swaying gently
+back and forth in a rocking-chair.
+
+"So you wasn't very much set up at the asylum?" he went on.
+
+"I guess I'm too bad for a 'sylum. Once our washerwoman took me home
+to supper. I guess heaven must be like that. They had a cat, too. I
+used to get in most trouble at the 'sylum 'bout cats. When starvin'
+ones came rubbin' up agin me in the garden, I couldn't help sneakin'
+them a bit o' bread from the pantry. It beats all, how cats find out
+people as likes 'em. Then I'd get jerked up."
+
+"Jerked up?" repeated her interlocutor.
+
+"Locked in my room, or have my hands slapped. Once I took a snake in
+the house. He was cold, but he got away from me, an' the matron found
+him in her bed. She whipped me that time."
+
+"Was that what made you run away?"
+
+"No, I run away on account o' this dog. You call up the cold spell we
+had a week ago?"
+
+"You bet--I was out in it."
+
+"Well, there come the coldest night. The matron give us extry
+blankets, but I couldn't sleep. I woke up in the middle o' the night,
+an' I thought o' that dog out in the stable. 'He'll freeze,' I said,
+an' when I said it, it seemed as if icicles were stickin' into me. I
+was mos' crazy. I got up an' looked out the window. There was a moon,
+an awful bitin', ugly kind of a moon grinnin' at me. I put on some
+clo'es, I slipped down-stairs, an' it seemed as if everythin' was
+yellin' in the cold. Every board an' every wall I touched went off
+like a gun, but no one woke, an' I got out in the stable.
+
+"The horse was warm an' so was the cow, but this little dog was mos'
+froze. I tried to warm him, but my fingers got like sticks. Then I
+did a scand'lous thing. I says, 'I'll take him in bed with me an'
+warm him for a spell, an' no one'll know;' so I lugged him in the
+house, an' he cuddled down on my arm just so cunnin'. Then I tried to
+stay awake, so I could carry him out early in the mornin', but didn't
+I fall to sleep, an' the first thing I knowed there was the matron
+a-spearin' me with her eyes, an she put out her hand to ketch the
+dog, an' he up an' bit her, an' then there was trouble."
+
+"What kind of trouble?" asked the young man.
+
+"I had bread an' water for two days, an' the dog was shut up in the
+stable, an' then I was brought up before the lady-board."
+
+"The lady-board," murmured Mrs. Minley; "what does the child mean?"
+
+"The board of lady managers," explained Dillson.
+
+"Tell us about it," he said to 'Tilda Jane.
+
+The latter was keeping an eye on the clock. She knew that the time
+must soon come for her to part from her new-found friend. It was not
+in her nature to be very demonstrative, yet she could not altogether
+hide a certain feverishness and anxiety. One thing, however, she
+could do, and she subdued her emotion in order to do it. It amused
+the young man to hear her talk. She would suppress her natural
+inclination to silence and gravity, and try to entertain him. And the
+more she talked, possibly the longer he would stay.
+
+Therefore she went on: "There they set round the table as big an'
+handsome as so many pies. One lady was at the top, an' she rapped on
+the table with a little hammer, an' said, ''Tention, ladies!' Then
+she says, 'Here is the 'fortinate object of dissection. What part
+shall we tackle fust? Name your wishes, ladies.' Then she stopped an'
+another lady begun, 'Mam pressiding, stake the case.'"
+
+The young man took his pipe from his mouth, and Mrs. Minley
+ejaculated, "Mercy me!"
+
+"Madam president, I guess," he said, gravely. "Go on, sissy."
+
+'Tilda Jane went on, still with her eye on the clock, and still
+speaking feverishly. "The mam pressiding staked me out. Says she,
+'Here is a little girl--she come to us like a lily o' the field; no
+dress on, no bunnit, no nothin'. We've fed an' clothed the lily,
+an' guv her good advice, an' she's lifted up her heel agin us. She
+deifies us, she introjuces toads an' snakes into the sacred presings
+of our sinningcherry for orphans. She packs a dirty dog in bed. We'll
+never levelate her. She's lowering the key of our 'stution. She knows
+not the place of reptiles an' quadruples. Ladies, shall we keep
+this little disturving lellement in our 'stution? If thy hand 'fend
+against thee cut it off. If thy foot straggle, treat it likewise.'
+
+"Then she set down, an' another lady got up. Says she, 'I'm always
+for mercy--strained mercy dropping like juice from heaven. If this
+little girl is turned inside out, she'll be a bright an' shinin'
+light. I prepose that we make the 'speriment. The tastes is in her,
+but we can nip off the grati'cations. I remove that instead of
+disturving her, we disturve the animiles. Ladies, we has hard work to
+run this 'stution.'"
+
+"This 'stution?" said the young man.
+
+"Yes, 'stution," repeated 'Tilda Jane, "that's what they call the
+'sylum. Well, this lady went on an' says she, 'Let's send away the
+cats an' dogs an' all the children's pets--squirrels an' pigeons
+an' rabbits, 'cause this little girl's disruptin' every child on
+the place. Once when cats come an' other animiles, they was stoned
+away. Now they're took in. I come across one little feller jus' now,
+an' instead o' learnin' his lesson he was playin' with a beetle.
+Ticklin' it with a straw, ladies. Now ain't that awful? We've got
+'sponsibilities toward these foun'lings. I feels like a mother. If
+we sends 'em foolish out in the world we'll be blamed. Our faithful
+matron says it's unpossible to ketch rats an' mice. This little girl
+gets at the traps, an' let's 'em go. She's a born rule-smasher!'
+
+"Then she closed her mouth an' set down, an' the big lady sittin'
+at the head o' the table pounded her hammer 'cause they all fell to
+jabberin'. Says she, 'Will some lady make a commotion?' Then one lady
+got up, an' she says, 'I remove that all animiles be decharged from
+this 'stution.'
+
+"'What about the chickings?' called out another lady. 'You must
+declude them. This will go on record.' The other lady said, ''Scuse
+me, I forgot the chickings. I'll mend my dissolution. I remove that
+all quadruples be decharged from this 'stution.'
+
+"That suited some, an' didn't suit t'others, an' there was a kind of
+chally-vally. One lady said she's mend the mendment, an' then the mam
+pressiding got kind o' mixy-maxy, an' said they'd better start all
+over agin, 'cause she'd lose her way 'mong so many mendments. After
+a long time, they got their ideas sot, an' they said that I was to
+stay, but all the animiles was to go. I didn't snuffle nor nothin',
+but I just said, 'Are you plannin' to kill that there dog?'
+
+"The mam pressiding gave a squeal an' said, 'No, that would be cruel.
+They would give the dog to some little feller who would be good to
+him.' I said, 'Little fellers tie tin cans to dogs' tails'--an' then
+they got mad with me an' said I was trespicious. Then I said, 'All
+right,' 'cause what could I do agin a whole lot o' lady-boards? But
+I made up my mind I'd have to work my way out of it, 'cause it would
+kill that little dog to be took from me. So I run away."
+
+Her story was done, and, closing her lips in dogged resolution, she
+stared inquiringly at the young man. He was not going to withdraw his
+protection from her, she saw that, but what would he direct her to do
+next?
+
+He was thoughtfully tapping his pipe against the fireplace, now he
+was putting it in his pocket, and now he was going to speak.
+
+[Illustration: "'TILDA JANE SAT LIKE A STATUE."]
+
+"Little girl, you've started for Australia, and as I don't believe
+in checking a raring, tearing ambition, I won't try to block you,
+exactly, but only to sidetrack. You can't go to Australia bang
+off. It's too far. And you haven't got the funds. Now I'll make a
+proposition. I've got an old father 'most as cranky as that there
+dog. I guess if you're so long-suffering with the animal, you'll be
+long-suffering with the human. He needs some tidy body to keep his
+house trigged up, and to wait on him, 'cause he's lame. He has an
+everlasting wrastle to keep a housekeeper on account of this same
+flash-light temper. But I guess from what I've seen of you, that you
+could fix him. And you'd have a home which you seem to hanker for.
+And you could save your money and start for Australia when you've put
+enough flesh on those bones to keep you from blowing away into the
+sea and getting lost. Starting would be convenient, for my father
+lives near the big Canadian railway that is a round the world route.
+You can step aboard the cars, go to the Pacific, board a steamer, and
+go on your way to Australia. What do you say--is it a bargain?"
+
+'Tilda Jane sat like a statue. The firelight danced behind her
+little, grave profile that remained unchanged, save for the big tears
+rolling slowly and deliberately down each thin cheek and dropping on
+the faded dress. Only the tears and the frantically clasped hands
+betrayed emotion.
+
+"I guess it's a go," said the young man, kindly. "Here's my father's
+address," and getting up he handed a card to her. "Hobart Dillson,
+Ciscasset, Maine. I've got to make tracks now, but Mrs. Minley here
+will put you on a train that comes by here in the morning, and all
+you've got to do is to sit still in it, till you hear the conductor
+holler Ciscasset. Then you hustle out and ask some one where Hobart
+Dillson lives. When you get there, don't shake if he throws a crutch
+at you. Just tell him you've come to stay, and I'm going to pay extra
+for it. That'll cool him, 'cause he's had to pay a housekeeper out
+of his own allowance up to this. The old boy and I don't rub along
+together very sweet, but he knows the size of a dollar every time."
+
+'Tilda Jane choked back the suffocating lump in her throat, and
+gravely rose to her feet. "Sir, I'm as much obleeged to you as--"
+
+Here she broke down.
+
+"As you ought to be," he finished. "Don't mention it. I'm happy
+to make your acquaintance. So long," and he politely held out two
+fingers.
+
+A vague terror seized the little girl. He had arranged everything for
+her, and yet she had never since her escape felt so paralysed with
+fear. Her beseeching eyes sought Mrs. Minley's face. The landlady was
+smiling graciously at her, but the little girl's heart sunk. Quite
+unknown to herself, she was a sharp reader of character. She was
+losing her best friend in the fat young man.
+
+"Take me with you," she gasped, suddenly clinging to his hand.
+
+"Can't do that, sissy. I'm going back into the settlements--bad
+roads, scattered houses. You'd freeze stiff. Better stay here with
+Mrs. Minley. I'll run up to Ciscasset by and by to see you."
+
+'Tilda Jane drew back in sudden, steely composure. She was ashamed of
+herself. "I'm crazy," she said, shortly; "you've done enough for me
+now. I'll take care of your father if he gets mad fifty times a day."
+
+Already she felt a sense of responsibility. She drew herself up with
+dignity, and in sad, composed silence watched the young man leave the
+room and the house. When the last faint sound of his sleigh-bells
+had died away, she gave up her listening attitude, and turned
+patiently to Mrs. Minley, who was saying with a yawn, "I guess you'd
+better go to bed."
+
+'Tilda Jane walked obediently toward her room, and Mrs. Minley,
+seating herself on a chair in cold curiosity, watched her undress.
+
+When the little girl knelt down to say her prayers, a feeble smile
+illuminated the woman's face. However, she was still listless and
+uninterested, until the latter portion of the petition.
+
+"O Lord," 'Tilda Jane was praying earnestly, almost passionately,
+"forgive me for all this sin an' 'niquity. I just had to run away. I
+couldn't give up that little dog that thou didst send me. I'll live
+square as soon as I get takin' care o' that ole man. Bless the matron
+an' make her forgive me, an' bless all the lady-boards--Mis' Grannis
+'specially, 'cause she'll be maddest with me. Keep me from tellin'
+any more lies. Amen."
+
+When 'Tilda Jane rose from her knees, Mrs. Minley's breath was coming
+and going quickly, and there was a curious light in her eyes. "Mrs.
+Grannis, did you say?" she asked, shortly. "Mrs. Grannis, over Beaver
+Dam way?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"What has she got to do with the asylum?"
+
+"She's the fust lady-board. She sits behind the table an' pounds the
+hammer."
+
+"And she'll be maddest with you?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am. She says children has too much liberties."
+
+"Hurry into bed," said Mrs. Minley, briefly, and taking up the lamp,
+and without a word of farewell, she disappeared from the room.
+
+'Tilda Jane cowered down between the cold sheets. Then she stretched
+out a hand to touch the precious bundle on the chair by her bed. And
+then she tried to go to sleep, but sleep would not come.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+UNSTABLE AS WATER.
+
+
+A vague uneasiness possessed her. Ah, how happy would she be, could
+she know that the young creamery man was sleeping under the same
+roof! But he was speeding somewhere far away over the snowy roads.
+However, she should see him again. He had said so, and, with the
+hopefulness of youth, she sighed a happy sigh and, closing her eyes
+tightly, listened to the various sounds about the quiet house.
+
+There must have been another arrival, for she heard doors opening and
+shutting, and also the jingle of sleigh-bells. They were strangely
+confused in her mind with the ringing of the rising-bell at the
+orphan asylum, and she was just sinking into a dreamy condition, a
+forerunner of sleep, when she heard a hard voice in her ear.
+
+"Get up an' dress, little girl."
+
+She raised herself quietly from the pillow. There stood over her the
+tall, gaunt woman whom she had heard Mrs. Minley address as Ruth Ann.
+To her perturbed mind, there rose a vision of a graven image from
+the Bible, as she stared at the woman's stony countenance. She was
+standing shading a candle with her hand, and her deep eyes were fixed
+in unmistakable compassion on the little girl.
+
+"Jump up," she repeated, "an' dress like sixty. You've got yourself
+into a peck o' trouble."
+
+'Tilda Jane had not a thought of questioning the wisdom of this
+command. Something about the hard-faced woman inspired her with
+confidence, and without a word she stepped out of bed, and began
+rapidly putting on her clothes.
+
+"I'll talk while you dress," said the woman, in a hard, intense
+voice, and putting down the candle, "but, Lord, how can I say it all?"
+
+There was a kind of desperation in her tone, although no trace of
+emotion appeared on her face. 'Tilda Jane felt a strange kinship
+with this reserved woman, and flashed her a sympathetic glance while
+buttoning one of her stout and ugly garments.
+
+Ruth Ann made a brief grimace. "Here I am," she said, with a sudden
+burst of speech, "a middle-aged woman gettin' old. You're a young one
+settin' out on life's journey. I'll never see you agin, prob'bly.
+Let me give you a word--be honest, an' if you can't be honest, be
+as honest as you can. You'll have no luck otherwise. You may think
+you're havin' luck in bein' sly, but it's a kind o' luck that turns
+to loss in the long run. There's that sister o' mine. She reminds me
+o' Reuben in the Bible--'unstable as water thou shalt not excel.'
+She's that deceitful that I should think she'd choke with it so she
+couldn't breathe."
+
+'Tilda Jane made no remark, but as she threw her dress over her head
+her two black eyes scintillated wonderingly in the woman's direction.
+
+"Unstable," said Ruth Ann, bitterly. "I'd 'a' loved her if she'd been
+honest, but it's always the same,--fair to the face, foul behind the
+back. I've slaved for her an' waited on her, an' heard her praised
+for work I've done, and seen young men oggle her, an' she oggle back,
+an' I've never had an offer an' never will, an' sometimes I think I
+hate her."
+
+'Tilda Jane paused for an instant in her rapid dressing. This
+sisterly repulsion was something unknown to her childish experience.
+
+"Then when she gets sick from stuffin' herself, I'm feared, an' think
+she's goin' to die, but she'll 'tend my funeral, an' cry an' look so
+handsome that some ole Jack will pop the question on the way home.
+Here, child, eat these while you dress," and she drew some doughnuts
+from her pocket.
+
+'Tilda Jane pushed them from her, with an involuntary movement of
+dislike.
+
+"You've turned agin me for turnin' agin my sister," said the woman,
+bitterly. "Wait till you're treated as I am. An' let me tell you what
+she's done to you. You made mention o' Mis' Grannis. Mis' Grannis
+has got a mortgage on this house. Mis' Grannis lends her money, Mis'
+Grannis is the god my sister bows down to. Do you think she'd let you
+stand between her and Mis' Grannis? No--the minute she heard you say
+Mis' Grannis would be pleased to git you back, that minute she made
+up her mind to fool you and Hank Dillson that she can't abide 'cause
+he ain't never asked her to stop bein' a widow. So she made me help
+her hitch up, an' she's off on the wings of the wind to tell her
+sweet Mis' Grannis to come an' git you; an' just to fool her who is
+so cute at foolin' other folks, I made up my mind to git you off. Now
+do you take it in?"
+
+'Tilda Jane did take in this alarming bit of news, and for one
+instant stood aghast. Then she resolutely fell to lacing on her shoes.
+
+"You're gritty," said the woman, admiringly. "Now I'll tell you what
+I've laid out. I'm goin' to guide you through the woods to the Moss
+Glen Station. When we git mos' there, I'll skedaddle home an' to bed,
+'cause I don't want sister to find me out. Here's an extry pair o'
+stockin's an' shoes to put on before you board the train. You'll git
+yours full o' snow water. If all goes as I calc'late, you'll have
+time to change 'em in the station. You don't want to git sick so
+you can't stand up to that ole man. Here's a little tippet for your
+shoulders. Dillson told sister to give you a shawl, but she'll not do
+it. An' he paid her, too. Now come, let's start."
+
+'Tilda Jane brushed her hand over her eyes, resolutely picked up her
+dog, and followed her guide out to the kitchen.
+
+Ruth Ann caught up a shawl, threw it over her head, and opened the
+door. "My--it's black! I guess we'll have to take a lantern."
+
+She turned back, fumbled in a corner of the kitchen, struck a light,
+then rejoined 'Tilda Jane.
+
+For some minutes they plodded on in silence. Then Ruth Ann said,
+anxiously, "I don' know what I'll do if it don't snow. She'll track
+us sure--me, big feet, an' you, smaller ones. Glory, it's snowin'
+now!"
+
+A sudden wind had sprung up in the black, quiet night, and whirled a
+few flakes of snow in their faces. Then the snow began to fall from
+above, gently and quietly, flake by flake.
+
+'Tilda Jane struggled along the heavy road in the wake of the tall
+woman ahead. The small dog seemed to have grown larger, and lay a
+heavy burden in her arms. Yet she uttered no word of complaint. Her
+mind was in a whirl, and she gave no thought to physical fatigue.
+What was she doing? Had she--a little girl--any right to give so
+much trouble to grown people? Her actions were exactly in opposition
+to every precept that had been instilled into her mind. Children
+should be seen and not heard. Children should wait on grown people.
+Children must not lie under any circumstances. They must be obedient,
+truthful, honest, and uncomplaining. Perhaps she ought to go back
+to the orphan asylum. She could stand punishment herself--but her
+dog? They would make her give him up. Some boy would get him. Boys
+were all mischievous at times. Could she endure the thought of that
+little feeble frame subjected to torture? She could not, and steeling
+her heart against the asylum, the matron, and the lady managers, she
+walked on more quickly than ever.
+
+She would never forget that ghostly walk through the woods. The
+narrow way wound always between high snow-laden sentinels of trees.
+The sickly, slanting gleam of the lantern lighted only a few steps
+ahead. Mystery and solemnity were all about her; the pure and
+exquisite snow, on which they were putting their black-shod feet,
+was to her the trailing robe of an angel who had gone before. The
+large, flat snowflakes, showered on her erring head, were missives
+from the skies, "Go back, little girl, go back."
+
+"Lord, I can't go back," she repeated, stubbornly, "but I'll repent
+some more, by and by. Please take away the sick feeling in the middle
+of my stomach. I can't enjoy anythin'."
+
+The sick feeling continued, and she gave Ruth Ann only a feeble
+"yes," when she suddenly turned and threw the light of the lantern on
+her with a brisk, "Don't you want to know what lie I'm goin' to tell
+'bout your leavin'?
+
+"I'm not goin' to tell any lie," Ruth Ann continued, triumphantly.
+"If you've got grace enough to hold your tongue, other folks'll
+do all your lyin' for you. Sister'll come home, Mis' Grannis with
+her, prob'bly. They'll go ravagin' in the spare room. They'll come
+ravagin' out--'Ruth Ann, that young one's run off!' An' I'll be busy
+with my pots an' pans, an' all I'll have to say is: 'Do tell!' or,
+'Why, how you talk!' An' sister'll rave an' tear, an' run round like
+a crazy thing, an' look at Mis' Grannis out o' the corner of her eye."
+
+Ruth Ann's shoulders shook with enjoyable laughter, but if she had
+turned suddenly she would have seen a look of unmistakable disgust
+flitting over the face behind her.
+
+She did turn suddenly a few minutes later, but the look was gone.
+"Here, give me that dog," she said, peremptorily.
+
+The little girl protested, but the woman took him, and again they
+plodded on in silence.
+
+"Here we be," she said, after they had been walking for an hour
+longer.
+
+'Tilda Jane raised her head. The narrow road had abruptly expanded
+into a circular clearing, and in the midst of the clearing stood a
+small wooden building.
+
+Ruth Ann walked up to it, handed 'Tilda Jane the dog and the lantern,
+and put her hands on one of the diminutive windows.
+
+It opened easily, and she ejaculated with satisfaction, "Just what I
+thought. Come, crawl in here; the station agent's been here all the
+evenin', an' the fire ain't quite out. You'll be as snug as a bug in
+a rug. He'll be back at daylight agin, an' soon after your train'll
+come along for Ciscasset. Don't you breathe a word to him 'bout me.
+Say Mis' Minley brought you here, if he asks anythin'. Here's enough
+money to buy your ticket. I ain't got much. Sister keeps me short,
+an' she's took away with her what Hank Dillson give her for you. Mind
+an' keep that card with his father's name pinned inside your dress.
+Here's a lunch," and she produced a parcel from her pocket. "Don't
+fret, sister can't git home much before breakfast, an' by that time
+you'll be in Ciscasset, an' I guess they'll not follow you there. She
+don't know the name o' the place, anyway. She didn't take no 'count
+when Hank mentioned it, an' when she asked me, you'd better believe I
+forgot it, too."
+
+'Tilda Jane scrambled through the window, and, upon arriving inside,
+turned around and gravely shook hands with her guide. "I guess I
+sha'n't forgit this."
+
+"Don't you take no pains to remember it before sister," said the
+woman, with a chuckle, "if you don't want me to live an' die in hot
+water. Good luck to you. Shut the winder, an' put a stick on the
+fire," and she strode off through the snow.
+
+'Tilda Jane shuddered. She was not a nervous child, yet the knowledge
+that she was alone in a forest pressed and bore down upon her.
+However, she was out of the increasing storm. She had got her guilty
+feet off that angel's trailing robe, and the little letters from
+heaven were not dashing in her face, nor was there any danger now
+that one of the groaning trees bending to lament over her would fall
+and crush her shrinking form.
+
+They were creaking all around the circular opening--those spying
+trees--staring through the curtainless windows at her, and instead
+of throwing on more wood, and making a blaze that would enable her
+to be plainly seen, she opened the stove door, and, cowering over
+the embers, changed her wet foot-gear, and tried to dry her clinging
+skirts.
+
+She was entirely miserable until the frightened dog crept into her
+arms. Here was something weaker and more in need of protection than
+herself, and, hugging him closely to her, she prepared to spend the
+rest of the night in a patient waiting for the morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ANOTHER ADVENTURE.
+
+
+The quietest and most undemonstrative passenger on the night train
+from Boston was the shabby little girl in the corner, with the bundle
+beside her on the seat.
+
+The conductor, after one sharp glance, paid no attention to her, the
+brakemen paid no attention to her, the boy with the gum-drops and
+novels ignored her. She had the air of knowing where she was going,
+and also of being utterly uninteresting, and greatly to her relief
+she was left entirely to her own devices.
+
+In reality 'Tilda Jane was in a state of semi-paralysis. She scarcely
+dared to move, to breathe. All her life had been spent in the quiet
+precincts of the asylum. She had scarcely been allowed to go to the
+small village in its vicinity, and when she had been allowed to
+visit it she had seen nothing as wonderful as this, for there was
+no railway there. It took her breath away to be whirled along at so
+rapid a rate. She wondered how the people dared to walk about. She
+wondered how she had ever had courage enough to step on board the
+flaming, roaring monster that had come rushing out of the woods as
+if it would devour the little station, the agent, herself, and her
+dog. But they had not been devoured, and the agent had guided her
+staggering footsteps toward the monster. If he had not done so, she
+would in her bewilderment have been left a prey for the pitiless Mrs.
+Minley.
+
+For two hours she sat with swimming brain, then it occurred to her
+that she must in some way acquaint this wonderful and frightful
+means of locomotion, with her desire to alight at her destination.
+She closely watched the people entering and leaving the car, and
+discovered that immediately following the entrance of a man who
+bawled some unintelligible exclamation, something took place that
+reminded her of a game played at the asylum. Certain people went out,
+and certain others came in and took their places. She must catch this
+noisy man and speak to him.
+
+She patiently waited for him to pass through the car. Once he
+swept by her, and then some time elapsed before she saw him again.
+The train had been waiting for fifteen minutes at a station. A
+number of men had gone out, and presently come back brushing their
+moustaches and with toothpicks between their teeth. This must be an
+eating-place; and Ruth Ann said that 'Tilda Jane would arrive in
+Ciscasset before breakfast-time.
+
+The little girl desperately addressed a passenger passing her. "I
+say, sir, when do we come to Ciscasset?"
+
+"Ciscasset!" repeated the man. "We passed it an hour ago."
+
+"Passed it!" she echoed, stupidly.
+
+The man turned to a news agent sauntering by. "Here, you, send the
+conductor here."
+
+The conductor did not appear, but a brakeman came. "Got carried
+beyond your station, little girl. You're in Canada now, but it's all
+right; we'll ship you off at the next stop. Number eight will take
+you back. All ri-i-i-ght."
+
+'Tilda Jane fell back on her seat with a strange sinking of heart.
+She remembered now that Hank Dillson had said the conductor would
+"holler" Ciscasset; but, if he had done so, she had not distinguished
+the words in the strange sounds issuing from his mouth.
+
+It seemed as if only a few bewildered minutes had passed when someone
+ejaculated, "McAdam Junction!" and the friendly brakeman was beside
+her. She felt herself lifted from her seat, bundle and all, and swung
+to a platform, where she stood among a group of people. She did not
+know where to go or what to do, and remained as one in a dream until
+some one touched her shoulder.
+
+"You the little girl carried beyond your station?"
+
+"Yes, sir," she gasped, and looked up into the pleasant face of a
+young man bending over her.
+
+"All right; the conductor told me about you. Come in here," and he
+led the way to a waiting-room. "Had your breakfast?"
+
+"No, sir, but I've got it here," and she pulled Ruth Ann's parcel out
+of her pocket.
+
+The young man smiled and motioned it back. "Come have some hot
+coffee," and he passed through a doorway into an eating-room, where
+'Tilda Jane presently found herself seated before a steaming cup of
+coffee, and a plate of beefsteak and potatoes.
+
+"I ain't got any money to pay for this," she said, bluntly, to the
+young woman who set the tempting viands before her.
+
+"That's all right," said the girl, smiling.
+
+'Tilda Jane picked up her knife and fork. "All right!" seemed to
+be a railway expression. It was immensely comforting to her, and
+she soberly partook of the hot breakfast, drank all her coffee, and
+emptied the scraps from her plate into her handkerchief. Then she
+approached the counter where the young woman stood.
+
+"Thank you kindly, ma'am. I've made a good meal."
+
+Then she went outdoors into the crisp morning air. The snow-storm was
+over, and the day was delightful--blue above, white below. It was
+like a fairy world. She walked to the end of the platform, unrolled
+her shawl, and, freeing her mummy-like dog, set his breakfast before
+him. He ate with avidity, then, showing a disinclination to return
+to his bandages, hopped on his three legs along the platform beside
+her, his crooked tail meanwhile describing successive circles in
+the air. Some of the loiterers about the station gathered around
+him, and seeing that his bodily infirmities were a subject of mirth
+rather than of compassion, 'Tilda Jane, in spite of warm protests on
+his part, once more swathed him in his shawl, and carried him with
+dignity into the waiting-room. There she sat until the agreeable
+young man ran in and said her train was coming.
+
+Something warned her that she ought to implore him to tell some one
+to have a care of her--to see that she did not again get carried
+beyond her destination, but a kind of paralysis seized upon her
+tongue, and she could only open her mouth and gape stupidly at him.
+
+"You'll be all right now," he said, with a nod. "Jump when you hear
+Ciscasset."
+
+"Ciscasset, Ciscasset!" she repeated the name in a kind of
+desperation, then, as the train started with a jerk and she tumbled
+into a seat, she said aloud, and without addressing any one in
+particular, "I wish to jump off at Ciscasset."
+
+"Bless the child!" ejaculated an old lady in the seat before her,
+"I guess this is her first journey," and turning around, she stared
+mildly.
+
+"Oh, ma'am," said 'Tilda Jane, "can't you help me get off at
+Ciscasset? The train goes so fast, an' I'm so little."
+
+"Bless the child!" said the old lady again, "of course I will.
+Conductor, this little girl wishes to get off at Ciscasset."
+
+"All right," said that official, hurrying by.
+
+"This little girl wishes to get off at Ciscasset," exclaimed the old
+lady once more, this time to a brakeman.
+
+He nodded and passed on, and presently the conductor returned and
+said, smartly, "Tickets!"
+
+"I ain't got any," replied 'Tilda Jane.
+
+"Then you must buy one," said the old lady; "have you got any money,
+my dear?"
+
+'Tilda Jane never thought of asking the conductor if he had not been
+informed of her mishap. She never dreamed that the pleasant-faced
+young man had forgotten to ask that she be carried back to the
+station for which she had bought her ticket. Therefore she drew her
+handkerchief from her pocket, untied a knot in its corner, and slowly
+produced fifty cents.
+
+"Is that all the money you've got?" asked the conductor, briskly.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Where do you come from?"
+
+'Tilda Jane preserved a discreet silence.
+
+"Put it up," he said, waving his hand toward the handkerchief and
+immediately going away.
+
+"Oh, what a nice kind man!" said the old lady. "He's going to let you
+ride free."
+
+'Tilda Jane breathed more freely, and returned her handkerchief to
+its place.
+
+The conductor, meanwhile, had gone to a Pullman car in the rear,
+where a man in plain clothes was lying back on a seat, apparently
+engaged in an aimless, leisurely scrutiny of the occupants of the car.
+
+"Jack," said the conductor, "there's a slip of a girl in the day
+car--poor clothes, shawl bundle, no money, won't tell where she comes
+from, making a great fuss about going to Ciscasset, looks like an
+emigrant."
+
+"All right," said Jack, laconically, then he gave an imperceptible
+nod toward a trio of well-dressed young men engaged in card playing.
+"Want to see me nab that New York jeweller's clerk?"
+
+"Yep," said the conductor.
+
+"Got any telegrams in your pocket?"
+
+"Two."
+
+"Lend me one, and sit down here a minute."
+
+Jack got up, the conductor took the vacated seat, and waited one,
+two, three minutes, and then Jack reappeared from between the
+curtains of the drawing-room at the rear of the car.
+
+"A telegram for H.J. Bolingbroke," he called, in a loud voice; "any
+passenger of that name in this car?"
+
+The youngest of the three men playing cards involuntarily raised his
+head, started from his seat, half extended his hand, then drew back.
+
+Jack tossed the telegram to the conductor, and nodded to the young
+man. "Thought you were travelling under an assumed name. H. J.
+Bolingbroke _alias_ Blixton. Have you got those diamonds in your
+pocket?"
+
+The young man flushed painfully, while his fellow players threw down
+their cards and surveyed him curiously.
+
+"Trouble you to follow me to another car," said Jack, and he led the
+way for the detected smuggler.
+
+'Tilda Jane saw the two men pass, and innocently stared at them,
+little dreaming that her turn was to come next.
+
+After awhile Jack reappeared and sat down in a seat behind 'Tilda
+Jane. After noticing the ineffectual attempts made by the old lady
+to draw the little girl into conversation, he leaned over and poured
+some candy into her lap from a bag he held in his hand.
+
+"Have some, sissy?"
+
+She gratefully flashed him a glance over her shoulder. "Thank you,
+sir."
+
+"Going far?" he asked, agreeably.
+
+"To Ciscasset," she said, feverishly. "Will you tell me when we come
+to it?"
+
+"Certainly. Going to visit friends?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Oh, going home?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Your home isn't quite so near as Ciscasset?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Did you bring that small dog across the ocean with you?" he asked,
+his keen eye noting a stirring inside the bundle.
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Where did you pick him up?"
+
+"Some boys were goin' to drown him."
+
+"So you're a kind little girl."
+
+"I ain't as good as I ought to be," she said, warmly; "but I'm goin'
+to try to be better. Oh, sir, are we at Ciscasset yet?"
+
+"No, this is Vanceboro, the border station between Canada and the
+States. I guess you'd better come this way for Ciscasset, little
+girl."
+
+"Why, this train goes direct to Ciscasset," interposed the old lady.
+
+"Yes, ma'am, but this little girl is a stop-over. She'll probably go
+on the next train."
+
+The old lady grew suspicious. "You let that child alone, sir.
+Where's the conductor? Conductor, I say, come here. Can't some one
+get the conductor? Don't go with him one step, little girl."
+
+'Tilda Jane, grown very pale, gazed apprehensively at the man, and
+did not offer to leave her seat.
+
+He threw back his coat and displayed a badge. "Madam, I'm a
+government inspector."
+
+"A government inspector! What's that?" the old lady spluttered,
+eyeing him over her glasses.
+
+"Well, madam, there ain't much time for explanation, but I can tell
+you this much, namely, that we have to detain and examine all persons
+without means of livelihood who attempt to enter the United States
+from foreign countries."
+
+She still gazed at him suspiciously. "I never heard of such a thing.
+I guess this is a free country."
+
+"Yes, ma'am, and the government wants to keep it free. If you get a
+lot of pauper foreigners here, it'll not be free long."
+
+"This little girl is American, ain't you, sissy?"
+
+"I'm an orphan," said 'Tilda Jane, guardedly. Whatever happened, she
+was determined not to admit too much.
+
+At this moment the conductor appeared, and the old lady hailed him
+indignantly. "What does this mean, sir? This little girl offered to
+pay her passage. I saw her with my own eyes. Now you're going to put
+her off the train."
+
+"It's all right, ma'am," he said, soothingly, "she'll likely be
+allowed to go on to-morrow."
+
+"And you'll keep that innocent child here all day, and she too
+frightened to breathe?" cried the old lady. "I never heard of such
+doings. I'll write the President! I'll show you up in the papers!"
+
+"She'll be well taken care of, madam," said the conductor. "There's
+a good hotel here. All detained are lodged and fed at government
+expense. She'll be put in charge of a chambermaid."
+
+"You're a set of villains!" said the old lady, wrathfully.
+
+"Oh, law!" groaned the conductor, "I'm sick of these fusses. Pick up
+her traps, Jack."
+
+"Come, little girl," said Jack, kindly, and 'Tilda Jane, seeing that
+the inevitable had once more overtaken her, rose resignedly, but the
+too kind and officious old lady clung to her so wildly that the two
+men were forced to draw her away from her.
+
+'Tilda Jane, in a state of complete bewilderment totally unmixed with
+terror, for she had taken a liking to the kind face of her guide,
+trotted meekly after him into the shadow of a long V-shaped building.
+The platform was crowded with people. Two trains were standing at the
+station, and in a large dining-room on her right she saw thronged
+tables and hurrying waitresses.
+
+She was ushered into a room where there was a handsomely dressed
+woman with a flushed face and tearful eyes, a dejected looking boy
+and girl sitting very close to each other, a diminutive and poorly
+dressed German Jew, and a composed looking man sitting behind a small
+table.
+
+"I'll have to leave you now," said her guide. "Don't be scared, but
+speak up," and with a reassuring smile he disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+DEAF AND DUMB.
+
+
+'Tilda Jane sat down on a bench in the corner and took the dog on her
+lap.
+
+The fashionably dressed woman was speaking and gesticulating
+earnestly in front of the man whose face was only a trifle less calm
+and stony than that of Ruth Ann.
+
+"I never heard of such a thing in my life--to take my sealskin coat
+from me in the dead of winter. Now if it was summer, it wouldn't
+be so bad. My nice coat that cost me four hundred and seventy-five
+dollars."
+
+The man listened stolidly.
+
+"And you tell me your government orders you to take ladies' jackets
+from them. It seems incredible!"
+
+'Tilda Jane curiously scanned the garment under discussion. It
+certainly was very handsome.
+
+"It is incredible, madam. The government does not wish to deprive
+ladies of their sealskin coats. It merely requires its custom
+officials, of whom I am one, to enforce the law which has been made
+to prevent the importation of sealskin coats free of duty."
+
+"And have you taken many jackets?" sneered the woman.
+
+The official gazed at her in frigid silence.
+
+"I'll go right back to Toronto, where I live," she said, indignantly.
+"I was going to buy my daughter's trousseau in New York, but I'll
+spend every cent at home. That's the way we will make New York suffer
+on account of your government being so hateful!" and she flounced
+from the room. The man behind the table cast a leisurely glance over
+the remaining occupants of the room. Then he addressed the dejected
+boy and girl.
+
+"Hello, you!--what's your name?"
+
+"Thaddeus and Mary Lee," said the boy, mournfully.
+
+"Brother and sister?"
+
+"Man and wife," responded the boy, lugubriously.
+
+The assistant inspector elevated his eyebrows.
+
+"What ages?"
+
+"Nineteen and seventeen," sighed the lad.
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"To Boston."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To look for work."
+
+"Got any money?"
+
+"Two dollars and seventy cents."
+
+"That all?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What place do you come from?"
+
+"Chickaminga, Quebec."
+
+"You'll take the 8.15 A. M. train back to-morrow," said the man,
+briefly. "Now, Deutscher," and he nodded to the German Jew.
+
+The boy and girl left the room, hand in hand, with melancholy
+clothing them like a garment, and 'Tilda Jane gazed after them with
+wide-open eyes. Her attention, however, was soon distracted, for
+the little Jew, the instant he was indicated, sprang from his seat,
+extended both hands, and nimbly skipping over the floor between his
+numerous bundles, overwhelmed the inspector with a flood of German.
+
+The inspector leaned back in his chair and at last put up a hand with
+a commanding, "Halt!"
+
+The old man paused open-mouthed, and the inspector went on in German:
+"You left your home, you crossed the sea, you wish to go to Portland
+to relatives--so far, so good, but where are your papers?"
+
+The old man broke into a second burst of eloquence.
+
+"Your certificate," reiterated the inspector, "your writing from the
+captain of the ship."
+
+The old man shook his head sadly. He had no papers.
+
+'Tilda Jane did not understand a word of what he was saying, but his
+gestures were expressive, and she anxiously watched his interlocutor.
+
+"Where did you land?" asked the inspector.
+
+"In Halifax, Nova Scotia."
+
+"From what ship?"
+
+"_Das Veilchen._"
+
+"Captain's name?"
+
+"Strassburger."
+
+"Your name?"
+
+"Franz Veier."
+
+"I'll telegraph him. That's all."
+
+"And can I not go to my friends now--at once? They are waiting, they
+are expecting. We have so much to say."
+
+"No," said the inspector, and as the German burst out into groans and
+lamentations, he waved him from the room.
+
+When the door closed, and 'Tilda Jane felt that the cold and
+scrutinising eyes of the inspector were fixed on her, she was
+stricken with sudden dumbness. How these people had talked! She could
+not in a month utter as much as they had said in a few minutes. The
+result of their loquacity had been a seeming paralysis of her organs
+of speech.
+
+"What's your name, little girl?" said the official, with slight
+geniality.
+
+Her lips parted, but no sound came from them.
+
+"_Sprechen Sie Deutsch?_" he asked, agreeably.
+
+She shook her head, not from any knowledge of his meaning, but to
+signify her disinclination for speech.
+
+"_Parlez-vous français_?" he went on, patiently.
+
+Her head again negatived this question, and he inquired in Spanish if
+she knew that tongue.
+
+The shaking of the head became mechanical, and as the inspector knew
+seventeen languages, he addressed her successively in each one of
+them.
+
+After she had shaken her head at them all, he surveyed her a few
+seconds in meditative silence. Then he began to talk on his fingers.
+She was probably deaf and dumb.
+
+'Tilda Jane joyfully uncurled her hands from the bundle on her lap.
+This was a safe medium of conversation, for talking on the fingers
+had been a favourite amusement of the orphans during silence hours;
+and she would not be tempted to say too much, and betray the fact
+that she was a runaway. Accordingly, she spelled out the information,
+"I am an orphan."
+
+"Where do you come from?" he asked her.
+
+"A long ways off," her finger tips informed him.
+
+"Name of place?"
+
+"I can't tell you," she responded.
+
+"Where are you going?" he inquired.
+
+"To--" she hesitated about the spelling of Ciscasset, but got
+something near enough to it for him to understand.
+
+"Any relatives there?" he spelled on his fingers.
+
+"No."
+
+"Going to visit?'
+
+"No."
+
+"Have you any money?" he next asked her, and she politely and
+speedily informed him that she had fifty cents.
+
+"You must tell me where you come from," came next from him in
+peremptory finger taps.
+
+"No, sir," she replied, with spirited movements.
+
+"Then you'll stay here till you do," he responded, and with a yawn he
+rose, turned his back to her, and looked out of the window.
+
+'Tilda Jane took up her dog, and slipped out of the room. She was
+not frightened or sorry for the deception she had just practised.
+It did not seem to her that it was deception. For the time being
+she was deaf and dumb, and, far from being alarmed by her helpless
+condition, she possessed the strong conviction that she would be
+well taken care of. She had also ceased to worry about the board of
+lady managers, and in her present comfortable, callous state of mind
+she reflected that she might stay here a year, and they would never
+think of looking for her in a railway station. She was lost to them,
+and she gaily hummed a tune as she strolled to and fro on the big
+wooden platform, watching the shunting engines, the busy custom-house
+officers, and the station yard employees, who were cleaning, rubbing,
+scouring, and preparing cars for further journeys.
+
+At twelve o'clock, just as she was beginning to stifle yawns, and
+gaze wistfully at the windows of the dining-room, a young girl in a
+white apron came and stood in the doorway, and, shading her eyes from
+the sun shining in such dazzling brightness on the snow, beckoned
+vigorously to 'Tilda Jane.
+
+The little girl needed no second invitation, and, with her dog
+limping behind her, trotted nimbly toward her new friend.
+
+"Poor little soul--she's deef and dumb," said the dining-room girl,
+compassionately, as she passed a group of men in the hall. "Ain't it
+a pity?"
+
+'Tilda Jane did not speak or smile, nor did her conscience, often
+so troublesomely sensitive, now give one reproving twinge. Since
+talking to the inspector she felt as if deaf and dumb. She had been
+officially proclaimed so, and in meek patience she seated herself
+at the table, calmly pointed to what she wished, and, being most
+tenderly and assiduously waited upon by the pitying girl, ate a large
+and excellent dinner.
+
+At the orphan asylum there had never been fare such as this, and,
+after she had finished her chocolate pudding, and put in her pocket a
+juicy orange that she could not possibly eat, she bowed her head, and
+internally and thankfully repeated the orphanage grace after meat.
+
+"Just look at her!" exclaimed the admiring girl. "Ain't she cute?
+What kind of folks must she have to let such a poor little innocent
+travel alone? I don't believe she's obstinate. That assistant
+inspector is as hateful as he can be. Come, sissy, and I'll show you
+to your room," and she approached 'Tilda Jane, and took her by the
+hand.
+
+The latter pointed to her dog, and not until she had seen him satisfy
+the demands of his appetite, would she consent to follow her guide
+to a neat little apartment in the top of the wooden hotel.
+
+Upon arriving there, she thanked the girl by a smile, closed the
+door, and, throwing herself on her bed, was soon buried in sweet and
+wholesome slumber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+CLEARING UP A MISTAKE.
+
+
+That evening, when some of the custom-house officials and some of
+the guests of the hotel were sitting tipped back in chairs in the
+smoking-room, the assistant inspector said to the inspector, who had
+just come in, "I couldn't make anything of your deaf and dumb kid,
+Jack."
+
+"What deaf and dumb kid?" asked Jack, seating himself, and drawing
+out his cigar case.
+
+"That young one with the bundle."
+
+"She ain't deaf and dumb. Her tongue's hung as limber as yours."
+
+"Well, I swan!" said the assistant inspector, blankly, and, as he
+spoke, he brought his chair down on its four legs, and gazed about
+the room with an expression of such utter helplessness that the other
+men broke into a roar of laughter.
+
+"Don't cry, Blakeman," said Jack, soothingly. "It's only once in a
+coon's age you're fooled."
+
+"Do you suppose the slyboots has gone to bed?" asked Blakeman, again
+tipping back his chair, and returning to his professional manner.
+"Uncle Sam hasn't got any spare cash to waste on such like. Just open
+the door, Rufus, and see if you see any of the girls about."
+
+A dining-room girl good-naturedly consented to go in search of 'Tilda
+Jane, and upon entering the room found her on her knees thoughtfully
+looking down at the railway tracks running close to the hotel.
+
+Stepping forward and gently touching her shoulder, the girl pointed
+down-stairs.
+
+'Tilda Jane nodded, smiled, and, taking her hand, went out into the
+hall and down the staircases with her. 'Tilda Jane stared at the ring
+of men sitting in the smoking-room. When she caught sight of her
+friend of the morning, she smiled and bobbed her head at him, then,
+letting her dog slip from her arm to the floor, she stood in silence,
+waiting to be questioned.
+
+She had no doubt that this was some special tribunal called together
+to deliberate upon her case. She was not afraid of these men, they
+had kindly faces.
+
+"What made you pretend you were deaf and dumb?" asked the inspector,
+at last.
+
+She opened her mouth once or twice, tried to speak, failed, and
+at last articulated with difficulty, and with an air of genuine
+surprise, "Why--ain't I deef an' dumb? I ain't spoke ever since he
+made me think so till now," and she nodded toward the assistant
+inspector.
+
+"I made you think so!" ejaculated Blakeman, irritably.
+
+"Yes, sir," she said, dreamily, and lingering over her syllables as
+if she found a new pleasure in the exercise of speech. "You had so
+much to say, an' the other people had so much to say, that the room
+seemed chock full o' words. They was flyin' round ever so thick, but
+I couldn't ketch one o' them."
+
+"Well, now, you've got to quit lying and tell us where you come
+from," said the assistant inspector, roughly. "You've got to be sent
+home to-morrow."
+
+"Sent home?" she repeated wonderingly.
+
+"Yes--to Canada. Now tell us the name of the place you belong to, or
+we'll ship you to some poorhouse."
+
+"Do I come from Canada?" she asked, with a mystified air.
+
+Jack jogged his assistant's elbow. "Seemed to me there was the smell
+of a ship about her."
+
+"Not so," responded Blakeman who prided himself on distinguishing
+nationalities. "She hasn't any European accent. She's from right over
+the border here somewhere."
+
+"Do you know my mother?" 'Tilda Jane was eagerly asking the assistant
+inspector.
+
+"Yes--know her well. If you don't speak up I'll telegraph her."
+
+"Oh, I'll never speak then," said 'Tilda Jane, taking a step forward
+and clasping her hands painfully. "Oh, sir, do telegraph to my
+mother. I've cried an' cried at nights 'bout her. Other girls has
+mothers that loves 'em an' strokes their hair, an' nobody ever done
+that to me. They just thinks I'm ugly. Oh, sir, oh, sir, won't you
+telegraph my mother?"
+
+Blakeman had gone too far. The sentiment of the meeting was against
+him, and a low murmur warned him to retract what he had said.
+
+"I don't mean your mother," he said, sulkily. "I mean your guardians."
+
+"The lady-boards?" asked 'Tilda Jane, eagerly.
+
+He did not know what "lady-boards" meant, but his silence seemed to
+give assent to her question, and losing the bright flush that had
+come to her face, she relapsed into painful and profound silence.
+
+He would never know how he had hurt her. Oh! what hopes he had
+raised, and in an instant dashed to the ground, and checking the
+convulsion in her throat, she stealthily wiped away the two tears of
+distress coursing down her thin cheeks.
+
+"Don't cry," said Jack, kindly. "I expect you're tired from your trip
+in the train yesterday. You had a pretty long one, hadn't you?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Jack," she said, humbly. "It seemed kind o' long, but I'm
+not used to bein' drug along so mighty quick."
+
+"I didn't notice her till we passed McAdam Junction," whispered Jack
+to his assistant. "She's come down from some place in New Brunswick.
+Telegraph McAdam."
+
+"They'll not know," growled Blakeman. "Robinson on yesterday's
+Montreal express is the man. He'll be back to-night. He'll know where
+she got on. If he'd reported, 'twould have saved this."
+
+"I guess he didn't think we'd struck such an obstacle," remarked
+Jack, with a chuckle. Then he said aloud, "Don't you suppose they'll
+be worrying about you, sissy?"
+
+"No, sir," she said, meekly, "they'll be more mad than worried."
+
+"You haven't lost that paper with the address, have you?" said Jack,
+cunningly.
+
+"No, sir," and she put her hand to her breast.
+
+He got up and walked toward her. "Let me see if I can read it."
+
+"There's no 'casion for that," she said, with dignity.
+
+"You'll have to let me see it," he said, firmly, so firmly that it
+being no part of her plan to "dare the undareable," she quietly
+handed Hank's card to him.
+
+"Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset, Maine," he read, then he gave it back to
+her. "Thank you, sissy. I guess you can go to bed now."
+
+"In a minute," said 'Tilda Jane, submissively, while she made a queer
+bob of a curtsey to all present. "Gen'l'men all--before I go I must
+say somethin'. Up-stairs jus' now I was ponderin' on my wickedness. I
+guess you think I don't know that all liars has their portion in the
+lake o' fire an' brimstone. I knows it an' feels it, but gen'l'men I
+ain't told no more lies nor I could help. That 'bout bein' deef an'
+dumb I can't call a lie, 'cause I felt it, an' I'm s'prised now to
+hear myself talk. But I have told lies, an' I know it. To-day I had
+a boss dinner. I went to sleep an' on my bed I dreamed. Somethin'
+roared an' shook the house an' I woke in a sweat. Did I think the
+devil had come after me? Yes, sirs--gen'l'men, I've been awful bad,
+I don't s'pose any of you knows what such badness is. I'm afeared
+I've got to go on lyin' till I like lies better'n truth. That's what
+the--what ladies I has known said would happen to little girls as
+stepped aside from the paths of righteousness."
+
+The men were all staring at her, the assistant inspector most
+intently, for this flow of language from the supposedly deaf and dumb
+child surprised even him--a man used to surprises.
+
+"I'm goin' to repent some day," continued 'Tilda Jane, sadly, "just
+as soon as I get out o' this, an' enjoyin' fam'ly life. I'm goin' to
+repent of all 'cept one thing, an' I can't repent 'bout that 'cause
+I dunno if it's wrong. Do you like dogs?" and she abruptly addressed
+the assistant inspector.
+
+"No," he said, brusquely.
+
+"What do you like?" she went on, wistfully, "cats, birds,
+children--do you like girls, sir, nice little girls with blue eyes
+an' curly hair?"
+
+The assistant inspector was a remarkably fine blond specimen
+of a man, and, as he was popular among the young women of the
+neighbourhood, 'Tilda Jane's artless question produced a burst of
+laughter from his companions, and a furious flaming of colour in his
+own face.
+
+[Illustration: "'I'M GOIN' TO REPENT SOME DAY.'"]
+
+Her question had gone home, and she proceeded. "Suppose you had a
+nice little girl an' some one wanted to take her away, an' frighten
+her, an' tie jinglin' things to her an' make her run, an' you'd ketch
+her up an' run off to the woods, would that be awful wicked, do
+you s'pose, an' would you have to repent?"
+
+The assistant inspector preserved a discreet and resentful silence,
+but two or three of his companions murmured between their pipe-stems
+and their lips, "Not much he wouldn't."
+
+"Now that's what troubles me," 'Tilda Jane continued. "The rest
+is bad, but is that bad? I guess I'll have to ask some minister,
+an', gen'l'men all, I guess you'd better let me go on to Ciscasset.
+You've got a nice place here, an' plenty o' things to eat, an' I
+think you're very fair, but I feel like movin' on," and pausing, she
+anxiously scanned the row of faces about her.
+
+"Run away to bed now," said Jack. "We'll tell you to-morrow what
+you're to do," and as 'Tilda Jane picked up her pet and disappeared,
+he sauntered across the room, took up a telegraph form, and addressed
+a message to the creamery shark's father.
+
+  "Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset. Girl, age about twelve. Dark hair,
+  eyes--run away from place unknown. Going to your address. Held as
+  immigrant without means. Refuses to give name. Can you supply any
+  information? Answer paid for."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A THIRD RUNNING AWAY.
+
+
+"Look here, little girl," said Jack, stopping 'Tilda Jane as she was
+coming out of the dining-room the next morning, "I've had a telegram
+from your friend in Ciscasset."
+
+"An' what does he say?" she asked, breathlessly.
+
+"I'll read it," and he drew a paper from his pocket. "Never heard of
+girl. Don't want her. Hobart Dillson."
+
+'Tilda Jane looked crestfallen, but did not flinch in face of the new
+difficulty. "He's a cranky ole man. He'll be all right when I talk to
+him."
+
+"Well, you're a queer fish," muttered her friend, as by way of hiding
+her chagrin she went quickly up-stairs. "We can't do anything with
+you till Robinson gets back, and tells us where he picked you up."
+
+The assistant inspector met her in the hall above. "Have you made up
+your mind to talk yet?" he asked, austerely.
+
+'Tilda Jane shook her head.
+
+"I've been amusing myself by telegraphing along the line," he said,
+in the same tone of voice. "None of the stations know anything about
+you, and the agent at McAdam has started off in the woods for his
+holidays. The conductor that brought you is laid up from an accident
+to his train, so you've got to speak for yourself; and do you know
+what I've made up my mind to do?"
+
+"No, sir," she said, steadily.
+
+"By to-night if you won't tell me where you come from, I'm going to
+take that dog away from you."
+
+Her face turned a sickly yellow, but she did not quail. "You wouldn't
+shoot him, would you?"
+
+"No, I won't shoot him," he said, deliberately. "I guess I'd give him
+to some nice little girl who wouldn't tell lies."
+
+'Tilda Jane's head sank on her breast. "Gimme till to-morrow morning,
+sir. I'd like to think it over."
+
+"I'll see about it," he said, with a curious glance at her; then he
+went away.
+
+'Tilda Jane knew that he would give her till the morning. She would
+not be troubled by him all day. She would have time to think. The
+worst difficulty in her experience confronted her. She would lose
+her dog in any case. To speak was to be sent back to the asylum, to
+remain silent was to let her Gippie become the cherished darling of
+some other girl, and in mute agony she caressed the smooth brown
+head, and put her hand before the almost sightless eyes as if she
+would hide from them even a suspicion of coming danger.
+
+Mr. Jack had just stepped on one of the out-going trains. She could
+not appeal to him, and the table-girls, since they had found that she
+was a story-teller, slighted her in a most marked way.
+
+She wandered down-stairs and out-of-doors. All day she loitered
+about the station platform watching the trains come in,--deliberate
+freight-trains, with their loads of merchandise, all to be examined
+by the busy customs officials, and rushing express trains, with their
+hundreds of hungry passengers who swept in crowds into the spacious
+dining-room.
+
+She saw her companions in captivity borne away. The fashionable lady
+got on a train that was entering Canada, and the dismal boy and girl
+followed her. The little German Jew, who had been roaming about the
+hotel like a restless ghost, always with his hat on and a bundle
+in his hand as if he wished to impress all beholders with the fact
+that he was only tarrying for a short time, had, on the receipt of a
+telegram informing the inspectors that he had merely forgotten his
+papers, become a happy maniac. He ran to and fro, he collected his
+bundles, dropped them, to kiss the hand of a table-girl who gave him
+some cakes for his lunch, and had to be restrained by main force from
+boarding every train that pulled up at the station.
+
+Fortunate travellers and unfortunate orphan! She could not get on
+one of the trains and be borne away. She was watched; she felt it,
+for she had now a perfect comprehension of the system of espionage
+established over unsuspecting travellers. The rich and well-dressed
+ones were passed by unless they were wearing sealskin wraps, the
+poor and penniless must give an account of themselves. So there was
+no escape for her by train. She must take to the road.
+
+She had better go lie down and try to sleep, she reflected with a
+shudder, as she had now before her the prospect of another night in
+the woods. As soon as it got dark, she must try to slip away from the
+hotel.
+
+At six o'clock she had had her nap and was in her favourite spot on
+her knees by her open window. Night was approaching, and she felt
+neither sorry, nor frightened, nor apprehensive. The sun was going
+down, and she was so completely wrapped in deep and silent content
+that she could neither speak nor think. She did not know that she was
+an ardent lover of nature--that her whole soul was at the present
+moment so filled with the glory of the winter evening that she had no
+room for her own troubles.
+
+The clanging supper-bell disturbed her, and, with a sigh and a look
+of longing farewell at the sky, she closed the window and made her
+way to the dining-room.
+
+After supper she returned to her post, and, as she could not now see
+the glorious sky and the snowy fields, she let her attention fall
+upon the trains below that had begun to have a strange fascination
+for her. She had lost all fear of them by this time, and had even
+begun to notice that there were differences in them just as there
+were differences in people. Some were big and bulky, others were
+quick and dashing. Some had hoarse voices, some clear ones. The
+Canadian engines coming in shrieked in one tone, the American ones,
+passing them from the other direction, replied in another.
+
+Hour after hour went by, and with the time her sense of dreamy
+contentment faded away. It gave her but little dismay to look out
+into the starlit night and fancy herself alone in snowy solitudes,
+but it gave her considerable dismay to look down below, and find
+that the hotel was neither getting dark nor perfectly quiet, as she
+fancied all well-regulated houses did at night. She had forgotten
+that they could not sleep here, at least everybody could not.
+Trains were coming and going all the time, and with this constant
+supervision below, how could she evade detection?
+
+"Number seventeen is an hour late and getting later every minute,"
+she heard some one call after a time; "bad snow-drifts up north."
+
+"Guess I'll take a wink of sleep," a tired voice responded, "there'll
+be nothing but freights for a spell," and then followed comparative
+silence.
+
+Footsteps were only occasionally heard, fewer lights flashed in the
+distance, and it was only at much longer intervals that passing
+trains shook the house. There was a lull in the constant noises, and
+now was the time for action. She rose stealthily, and took her dog
+in her arms--a pathetic child figure no longer, but a wary, stealthy
+little elf endeavouring to escape from danger threatened by these
+larger and more powerful human beings.
+
+Her sleeping-room was a tiny chamber opening out of one occupied by
+two of the dining-room girls. She was not afraid of their waking.
+She had heard them say as they undressed that they had to get up at
+half-past four to iron table-cloths and napkins, and there was not
+an instant's interruption of their heavy, dreamless slumber as she
+stole noiselessly by them.
+
+Now for the staircase. She paused anxiously at the top, and looked
+down. There was no one in sight, and holding her breath, and
+tiptoeing cautiously, she stole down step by step.
+
+At last she was at the bottom of both flights of stairs. So far so
+good, and she laid her hand on the knob of the front door that was
+never locked. But stop, let her pause--there were sounds outside.
+
+Some one out there hesitated, halted, and remarked to some other
+person behind, "Will you come in and have a bite of something to eat?"
+
+'Tilda Jane scarcely dared to breathe, and, gazing down the hall
+behind her, shook in her substantial shoes. She could see the office
+at the end of the hall, and the sleepy clerk napping at his desk. If
+she retreated toward him, he might wake up and discover her, and if
+the men entered she could not possibly avoid being caught by them.
+
+In intense anxiety she awaited results. There were only a few seconds
+of uncertainty, then her heart gave a bound of thankfulness. The
+footsteps had passed on, and only waiting till they died away, she
+opened the door and glided through.
+
+Now she was on the brightly lighted platform at the mercy of any
+passer-by, or any wakeful person who might be at one of the hotel
+windows. She made one swift rush across it, one leap over the railway
+tracks, and with a stifled exclamation of thankfulness found herself
+on the village road.
+
+Like a dark, diminutive ghost she sped up the hill past the silent
+houses. Now she was comparatively safe, yet which way should she go?
+She was completely puzzled, yet she had a vague idea that there were
+great forests surrounding Vanceboro, for she had heard the men at the
+hotel talk of fishing and shooting.
+
+Trembling in every limb from excitement, and pressing her precious
+bundle closely to her, she took a road to the left. She must not
+go to the right, for across the river was Canada, and if she got
+into that foreign country again, she would have fresh difficulties
+in returning to her own native one. She would press on through the
+village, take to the woods, and trust to luck to find some house
+where she could ask the way to Ciscasset.
+
+There was a moon to-night, an old, pale moon, and it cast a tremulous
+light over the soft, white fields sloping down to the Sainte-Croix
+River, the sleeping village, and the brightly lighted station yard
+in the hollow. She turned around, took one farewell glance at the
+habitations of men, and plunged into the winding road leading into
+the heart of the forest.
+
+Hour after hour she plodded on. This reminded her of her walk with
+Ruth Ann two evenings before, only here there was more light, the
+snow was deeper, and the trees were not as high as those on the way
+to the Moss Glen station. She hoped with a shiver that she should
+meet no wild beasts. Hark! What was that crashing through the alder
+bushes? She stopped short, clasped her dog to her breast, and looked
+about for some means of defence. Nothing offered but a dry tree
+branch, and she was just bending over to seize it when there rushed
+by her, so quickly that she had no time to be afraid, an object that
+caused a faint smile of pleasure to come to her pale lips.
+
+This was a large deerhound running along with his nose to the snow,
+and he paid no more attention to her than if she had been one of the
+stumps by the side of the road.
+
+"Here, doggie, doggie!" she called, wistfully, but he did not return,
+and, startled by the sound of her voice in the intense stillness, she
+hastily resumed her way.
+
+How solemn the moon was, staring down at her with that section of a
+face on which she fancied she saw an ear, the corner of a mouth, and
+one terrible, glistening eye. "Little girl, where are you going? Are
+you doing right? Are you not a naughty little girl?"
+
+"I can't think about it now," she said, desperately. "When I git
+settled down I'll square things up. Anyway, I'm not bad for the
+fun of it. Law me, ain't this road long! Here, Gippie, I guess you
+might walk a few steps. Keep in my tracks an' I'll not let anythin'
+hurt you. If a bear comes, he'll eat me first. It'll do you good to
+stretch your legs a mite."
+
+Away back in the hotel Mr. Jack was just getting home. "We can let
+our deaf and dumb kid go in the morning," he said to his assistant,
+who got on the train as he left it. "The waitress at McAdam was just
+inquiring about her--says she's U. S. all right. Came from Moss Glen
+station, didn't know Ciscasset when she got to it, and was carried
+on. Agent forgot to speak to Robinson about her, and the waitress
+wanted to know if she got through all right."
+
+"U. S.," grumbled the assistant inspector, pausing with his foot on
+the steps of the baggage-car, "why didn't she say so?"
+
+"Was frightened--I guess she'd run away--a case of innocence abroad."
+
+"Well, we can't hold her if she isn't an immigrant," said Blakeman,
+with relief. "Let her go. They've got a poorhouse in Ciscasset, I
+suppose."
+
+"She'll go in no poorhouse," said Mr. Jack, with a chuckle. "She's
+too smart."
+
+If he could have seen at that moment the weary little figure toiling
+along the forest road, he would have uttered the appreciative
+adjective with even more energy. Tired, hungry, occasionally
+stooping to lift a handful of snow to her lips, 'Tilda Jane plodded
+on. Her thin figure was bent from fatigue. She had again picked up
+the wailing dog, and had slung him on her back in the shawl, yet
+there was not the slightest indication of faltering in her aspect.
+There were no clearings in the woods, no promise of settlement, yet
+her face was ever toward the promised land of Ciscasset, and her back
+to the place of captivity in Vanceboro.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+LOST IN THE WOODS.
+
+
+Nothing could be more exquisitely beautiful than that winter morning
+in the Maine woods. The white glory of the snow, the stealing pink
+and gold glances of the sun, the bravery of the trees proudly
+rearing their heads aloft and stretching out their heavily laden
+arms,--all made a picture that filled with awe even the heart of
+rough Bob Lucas, unregistered guide and nominal lumberman, noted for
+his skill as hunter and poacher and his queer mingling of honesty,
+law-breaking, piety, and profanity.
+
+No, it was not a picture, it was reality, and he was a part of it. He
+was in it, he belonged to this glorious morning, the morning belonged
+to him, and he put up his hand and pulled off his cap.
+
+"Branching candlesticks on the altar of the Lord," he muttered as he
+surveyed the trees. "I feel like a vessel o' grace, more's the pity
+I can't take on the actions o' one."
+
+He stood lounging in the cabin door--red-haired, long-nosed, unkempt,
+and stalwart. Inside were his two sons getting the breakfast, and the
+appetising odour of frying bacon floated out on the fresh air.
+
+"Hi, Poacher--whot's up with you?" he suddenly exclaimed, and his
+gaze went to a deerhound of unusually sturdy build, who was ploughing
+through the snow toward the cabin.
+
+The dog wagged his tail, advanced, and, lifting toward him a
+countenance so bright with intelligence that it might almost be
+called human, opened his mouth, and dropped something at his master's
+feet.
+
+"Hello, boys!" said the man, stepping inside the cabin; "what in the
+name o' creation's this? I call it a morsel of woman's togs. Don't
+your mother wear aprons like it, or somethin'?"
+
+The two strapping lads in high boots and woollen shirts turned their
+red faces from the fireplace.
+
+"Yes, siree," said the taller of them, fingering the scrap of
+cotton; "they call it something like jingo."
+
+"Gingham, you gull," interposed his brother, with a guffaw of
+laughter. "I've seen it in the stores. Where'd you get it, pop?"
+
+"Poacher fetched it. When I got out o' my bunk this mornin' an'
+opened the door, he put up that ole muzzle of his an' give a sniff.
+Then off he sot. I knew he'd got somethin' on his mind. He's been
+runnin' deer, an' he found this on his way back."
+
+"He's a beaut," said the other lad, eyeing him admiringly. "He's
+nosed out something. What'll you do, pop?"
+
+"Swaller some breakfast an' make tracks for Morse's camp."
+
+"S'pose it was some person," said the younger of the boys, uneasily.
+
+"By gum!" and the man suddenly smote his thigh, "s'pose the ole woman
+had run after us with somethin'. Hustle on your coats, boys. Mebbe
+it's your ma."
+
+The faces of both boys had turned white, and their hands were
+shaking. Seizing their coats, they rushed out of the cabin.
+
+"Pop, it wasn't bitter last night," said the younger, in a hushed
+voice.
+
+"Shut up!" said his father, irritably, and in profound silence the
+three proceeded through the wood in single file, following the dog
+who, without excitement, but with his dark face beaming with pleasure
+at being understood, rapidly led them over his own tracks of a few
+minutes previous.
+
+Mile after mile they went in silence, until at last the father, who
+was leading, made a leap forward.
+
+There was a dark mound on the snow against a tree trunk, and dropping
+beside it he turned it over.
+
+"Thank the Lord!" he ejaculated, while scratching and beating the
+snow away from it, "it ain't what I feared."
+
+"Why, it's only a gal," said one of the boys. "Is she gone, pop?"
+
+"Here--shake her up," he replied. "What's this she's curled round? A
+dog, sure as thunder, an' alive an' warm. Merciful grindstones, look
+at him!"
+
+Irritably stepping out of wrappings, consisting of a small tippet
+and a shawl, was a little old dog, the most utter contrast to the
+handsome deerhound that could have been imagined.
+
+The hound stared inquiringly and politely at Gippie, and, being a
+denizen of the woods, made the first overtures to friendship by
+politely touching him with the end of his muzzle.
+
+The smaller dog snapped at him, whereupon the hound withdrew in
+dignified silence, and watched his owners, who were making vigorous
+efforts to restore the benumbed girl.
+
+"Her heart's beatin'," said Lucas, putting his hand on it. "The dog
+lay there, an' kep' it warm."
+
+"Rub her feet--rub harder," he said to his sons, while he himself
+began chafing 'Tilda Jane's wrists. "She's jist the age o' your
+sister Min. S'pose she was here, stone cold an' half dead!"
+
+The boys redoubled their efforts at resuscitation, and presently a
+faint colour appeared in the little girl's marble cheeks, and the
+cold lips slightly moved.
+
+Lucas put his head down. "What you sayin'? Dog, is it? He's all
+right. If you'd wrapped yourself more, an' him less, it might 'a'
+bin better. Yet, I guess not. If it hadn't 'a' bin for the dog, you'd
+'a' bin dead. Put on her shoes, boys. We'll carry her to that heap o'
+logs of ours."
+
+"Pop, will one of us have to show her out?" said Joe, anxiously
+pressing beside him.
+
+"Yep," said his father. "Here, strip off your coat an' put it round
+her."
+
+"An' I s'pose I'll hev to go 'cause I'm the youngest," said the boy,
+bitterly.
+
+"No, sir--you're always doin' dirty work. This time it'll be Zebedee."
+
+Zebedee frowned, and muttered that he wished girls would stay out o'
+the woods; then he tramped on beside his brother.
+
+"Here, gimme my gun," said Lucas, presently. "You-uns is younger. You
+kin carry the gal."
+
+He had been carrying 'Tilda Jane over his shoulder, and now the
+little procession started again, this time with the boys bearing the
+semi-unconscious burden.
+
+Gippie, squealing and complaining, followed behind as well as he was
+able, but finally, becoming stuck in a drift, gave a despairing yell
+and disappeared.
+
+Lucas turned around, went in the direction of the crooked tail
+sticking up from the snow, and pulling him out, contemptuously took
+him under his arm.
+
+"If you was my dog, you'd get a bullet to eat. Howsomever, you ain't,
+an' I guess we'll hev to keep you for the leetle gal. Git on thar,
+sons."
+
+Two hours later, 'Tilda Jane opened her eyes on a new world. Where
+had her adventures brought her this time? Had she died and gone to
+heaven? No, this must be earth, for she had just heard a string of
+very bad words uttered by some one near her. But she could not think
+about anything. A feeling of delicious languor overpowered her, and
+slowly opening and shutting her eyes, she little by little allowed
+her surroundings to impress themselves upon her.
+
+She was very warm and comfortable; she was sitting on the floor,
+propped against the wall by means of an overturned chair and
+blankets; a fire in an open fireplace blazed beside her; Gippie was
+making his toilet before this fire, and she was very happy.
+
+"Here, sup this," some one said, and languidly lifting her eyelids,
+she saw a big red-haired man bending over her.
+
+He was holding a cup to her lips--coffee sweetened with molasses.
+Just what they used to have at the asylum, and with a faint smile,
+and a feeble "Thank you, sir," she slowly swallowed it.
+
+"I was scared to give you any before," he said, gruffly; "thought you
+might choke. Here, gimme some grub, sons."
+
+'Tilda Jane felt a morsel of something put in her mouth. It was
+followed by another morsel of something hot and savoury, and speedily
+she felt new life in her veins. She could sit up now, and look about
+her.
+
+"Guess you can feed yourself," said the man, going back to the table.
+"Fall to now--you most got to the end of your tether."
+
+'Tilda Jane took the two-pronged fork he put in her hand, and began
+to eat with slow avidity, not disregarding the requests for titbits
+from her dog, who occasionally paused for that purpose in his
+endeavours to lick himself dry.
+
+At intervals she cast a glance at the centre of the cabin, where a
+man and two boys were seated at a rough table. These must be her
+rescuers. She had fallen down in the snow the night before. Not even
+her fear of death had been able to keep her on her feet.
+
+She stopped eating. "Who be you?"
+
+"We be lumbermen, when the fit takes us," said the man, shortly.
+
+"Well," said 'Tilda Jane, "I guess--" then she stopped, overpowered
+by intense feeling.
+
+"I guess," she went on, finally, "that there wouldn't 'a' bin much o'
+me this morning if it hadn't bin for you comin'."
+
+"'Twasn't us," said the man, agreeably, "'twas Poacher there," and he
+indicated the dog under the table, who, at the mention of his name,
+rose and walked politely toward the little girl.
+
+He looked at her and she looked at him, then he took a step nearer
+and laid his muzzle on her shoulder. With exquisite subtlety he
+comprehended all that she wished to say in relation to himself, and
+all that she felt in relation to the dog race in general.
+
+She laid her cheek against his velvet ear. Then her arm stole around
+his neck.
+
+The dog stood in courteous silence, until, feeling embarrassed under
+her attention, he looked somewhat foolishly at his master, and
+appealingly licked 'Tilda Jane's cheek.
+
+As quick to understand him as he was to understand her, she released
+him, whereupon he lay down beside her and put his handsome head on
+her lap.
+
+Gippie extended his muzzle, sniffed suspiciously, then his
+short-sighted eyes discovering the presence of a rival, he advanced
+snapping.
+
+The large dog generously averted his head, and Gippie, seeing that he
+was not to be dislodged, meanly curled himself up on Poacher's glossy
+back.
+
+[Illustration: "HE LAY DOWN BESIDE HER."]
+
+"Yes, that's a boss dog," the man went on. "Search the State from
+Fort Kent to Kittery Depot, and you'll not find a cuter. He's given
+me pointers many a time--where you hail from, leetle gal?"
+
+"I'm going to Ciscasset," she said, dreamily. Her mind was running
+back to the night before, and, unaware that she was holding a piece
+of bacon poised on her fork in tempting proximity to Poacher's nose,
+she stared intently at the fire.
+
+She had been near death. Had she been near the heaven that the matron
+and the "lady-boards" pictured, or would it have been the other
+place, on account of her disobedience?
+
+"The soul that sinneth it shall die"--"For whosoever shall keep the
+whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all"--"Keep
+thyself pure"--"For without are dogs, and sorcerers, and murderers,
+and idolaters, and whosoever loveth and maketh a lie"--that meant
+without the city, the beautiful city of gold where her mother
+probably was, and many of her unknown relatives, and where all good
+matrons, orphans, and "lady-boards" went.
+
+"I guess I'd bin without, with no comfort but the dogs," she thought
+bitterly, and pushing away her plate, she said aloud, "I thank ye
+kindly, but I can't swaller another morsel."
+
+A roar of laughter saluted her ears. Gippie's inquiring muzzle had
+scented out the bacon and had seized it, whereupon Poacher, knowing
+that it was not intended for him, had gently but firmly taken it from
+him, and was walking about the cabin, holding it aloft, while Gippie
+snarled at his heels.
+
+'Tilda Jane paid no attention to them. The greater matter of her
+soul's destiny was under consideration. "Are you an extry good man?"
+she abruptly asked her host.
+
+He stopped laughing, and a shadow came over his face. Then his glance
+went to his boys. "What you say, sons?"
+
+The boys stared at each other, avoided his eye, and said, uneasily,
+"Course you be, pop--don't make game."
+
+"Make game," repeated the man, strangely, "make game," then he
+laughed shortly, and made another onslaught on the bacon and bread.
+
+"'Cause I'm lookin' for an extry good person," went on 'Tilda Jane,
+brusquely. "Some one that won't blab, an' that I kin tell a story to."
+
+"Well, thar ain't no extry good persons in the woods," said her host,
+"we be only ordinary. You better wait till you git out. What was you
+doin' so far from houses last night, leetle gal, 'stead o' bein'
+tucked snug in bed?"
+
+"I might as well tell the truth," she said, helplessly. "I'm tired o'
+lies. I was runnin' away from somethin', but whether my runnin' was
+good or bad is what I can't make out."
+
+"While you're puzzlin' you eat some more breakfus'," said the man,
+getting up and putting another supply of bacon on her plate. "You've
+got to call up strength to git out. I s'pose you dunno you're some
+miles from sofas, an' pianos, an' easy chairs."
+
+"I didn't know where I was goin'," she said, apologetically, "or what
+I was comin' to. I jus' travelled on an' on. Then I begun to get
+queery an' I left the road. Thinks I, there'll be kind animiles in
+the woods. Mebbe I'll meet a nice black bear, an' he'll say, 'Little
+girl, you're lost an' I'll lead you to my den. We'll be happy to
+have you an' your little dog, an' I'll not let no one eat him, an'
+I'll give a big party an' invite all the foxes, an' deer, an' bears
+an' squirrels 'cause you're fond o' wild beasts, little girl.' An'
+it seemed I'd come to the bear's den, an' there was a soft bed, an'
+I just lay down, an' was goin' to sleep when I thought, 'Mebbe if I
+sleep, some little bird'll tell him I'm a baddie, an' he'll eat me
+up,' an' I felt just awful; then I forgot everythin' till I woke up
+here--I guess I'm obliged to you."
+
+The lumberman was about to reply to her when one of the boys
+ejaculated, "Hist, pop, look at Poacher!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+AMONG FRIENDS.
+
+
+The animal had gone to the door, and stood in a listening attitude.
+
+"Some one's comin'," said the boy. "Is everythin' snug?"
+
+The three cast hurried glances about the room, then shaking off a
+somewhat uneasy expression, the man stepped to the one and only
+window of the cabin.
+
+"Game warden Perch," he said, dryly, "and registered guide Hersey.
+Comin' spyin' round--bad luck to 'em," and he sulkily went back to
+the table.
+
+Presently there came a knocking at the door. "Come in," bawled Lucas,
+not inhospitably, and two men, much smarter, cleaner, and more
+dapper-looking than the red-haired man and his sons, entered the
+cabin.
+
+"Howdye," they said simultaneously, as they stood their guns and
+snow-shoes against the wall, and took possession of the two boxes
+vacated by the boys at a sign from their father. Then, with an
+appearance of enjoyment, they dragged the boxes near the fire, and
+stretched out their hands to the blaze.
+
+'Tilda Jane saw that they were staring in unmitigated astonishment at
+her, and with a feeling that she herself was out of the world and in
+a place where passers-by were few and infrequent, she examined them
+in equal interest.
+
+"Where'd you come from?" asked the elder of them at last, fixing her
+with a pair of piercing eyes.
+
+"She got keeled over on the old road last night," spoke up Lucas,
+much to her relief. "Lost her way. Dog here, found her," and he
+motioned toward Poacher, who was surveying the newcomers in cold
+curiosity.
+
+Warden Perch's attention being drawn to the dog, he stared at him
+earnestly, then turned to his companion. "Ever see that animal
+before?"
+
+"Not near at hand," said the other, with a slight sneer. "Guess'
+I've seen his hind legs and the tip of his tail once or twice."
+
+"Hev some breakfus?" said Lucas, who was imperturbably going on with
+his own.
+
+Warden Perch inspected the table. "Not on bacon--haven't you got
+something more uncommon?"
+
+"We've got some beans in thar," said Lucas, with a backward nod of
+his head toward a bag on the floor, "coarse brown beans. They might
+be a treat for ye, seein' ye don't git 'em much in hotels."
+
+Perch flushed angrily and opened his mouth as if to make a retort.
+Then he drew a blank book from his pocket, and to calm himself ran
+his eye over the report he was making for the game commissioner of
+the State.
+
+"Left Nexter 10.55 A. M. March 1, for Bluefield. March 2 at Bearville
+11.30 A. M. Jim Greene's camp Lake Clear at 4.35 P. M. March 3 left
+camp at 7 A. M. Bill Emerson's camp 9.47 A. M. Reached moose yard on
+back side Fern Brook Ridge 1.47 P. M. 3 moose in yard--Henry," he
+said, lifting his head and abruptly addressing his companion, "some
+of those poachers have mighty cute tricks."
+
+Henry nodded assent.
+
+"Those fellows at Hacmactac Station tried hard to fool us last
+week,--cut the legs off the deer, then got a couple of bears' feet
+and had the bone of the bear's leg slipped up under the skin on the
+leg of the deer. Then they put them up so sly in three layers of
+bagging with nothing but bears' feet sticking out, but I caught on to
+those bears' legs, and said the feet weren't big enough. So I had it
+opened and took the deer and the fellows to Mattawamkeag, and I guess
+they think forty dollars apiece was just about enough for a fine."
+
+Lucas and his sons burst out laughing, and 'Tilda Jane shrewdly
+suspected by their amused faces and knowing glances that they
+had heard the story before. There was no love lost between these
+newcomers and her preservers, and Lucas and his sons would be glad
+when their callers left the cabin. But what was all this talk about
+deer? Surely they did not kill the pretty creatures whom without
+having seen she loved.
+
+She cleared her throat and in a weak little voice addressed the
+game warden. "Sir, I've got pictures in my joggafry of deer with
+branching horns. Does bad men kill them?"
+
+Warden Perch gave her another alert glance. Here was no confederate
+of poachers. "Yes," he said, severely, "bad men do kill them, and
+dogs chase them, but mind this, young girl--poachers get nabbed
+in the long run. They slide for a time, but there's a trip-up at
+the end. And their dogs, too--I've shot three hounds this week for
+dogging deer."
+
+"You have shot dogs!" repeated 'Tilda Jane, in a horrified tone, and
+pressing Gippie closer to her.
+
+"If I didn't shoot them, they'd kill the deer," said the man,
+irritably.
+
+"Oh!" murmured 'Tilda Jane. Here was one of the mysteries of nature
+that was quite beyond her comprehension. The dog hunted the deer, and
+the man hunted the dog. The deer apparently was the weaker one, and
+she must inquire into the matter.
+
+"What does bad men kill deer for?" she asked, timidly.
+
+"Haven't you ever eaten any deer meat?" asked the warden.
+
+"I didn't know it was good to eat," she said, sadly.
+
+"You haven't had any here in this cabin?"
+
+"I guess not, unless I might 'a' eat it when I was fainty."
+
+Lucas eyed her peculiarly, and the meaning of the warden's question
+and offensive manner burst upon her. "That's a good man," she said,
+indignantly, starting from her half-reclining position and pointing
+to Lucas. "I guess men that takes little girls out o' snow-banks
+don't kill deer."
+
+Warden Perch laughed and rose from his seat. He had very little
+sentiment with regard to the animal creation. "I calculate we'd
+better be moving," he said, to the guide. "Don't suppose we'd see
+anything to keep us here, unless we'd hang on for the big snow-storm
+they say is coming, and that I expect you're waiting for," and he
+looked at Lucas.
+
+"Me an' my sons," said the latter, coolly, "is on our way to David
+Morse's lumber camp. Two of his hands had to come out 'count o'
+sickness. We lay out to git thar this evenin'. Was late in startin'
+last night, an' camped here. We'll hev to git this leetle gal out,
+'thout you might undertake it, seein' as you're makin' for outside, I
+s'pose."
+
+"Get your own find out," said the warden, severely; "it will keep you
+out of mischief, and look here--if I find that dog of yours up to
+tricks, you know what I'll do."
+
+"Shoot him on sight," said Lucas, stooping and patting the animal
+who was pressing close to him; "but you'll never ketch him, 'cause
+he ain't the sort o' dog to be ketched in any kind o' mischief; hey,
+Poacher?"
+
+The guide went out, and the warden with a scowl followed, slamming
+the door after him.
+
+Lucas and his sons crowded to the window to see their callers depart,
+and when they were fairly out of sight, they burst into relieved
+laughter, and noisily drew their boxes up to the fire.
+
+"Say, pop, ain't he mad?" remarked Joe, excitedly. "Mad 'cause you're
+too cute for him. He'd give his teeth to fasten something on to you."
+
+"Shut up," said his father, with a roll of his eye toward 'Tilda Jane.
+
+The girl was puzzled. Lucas, who seemed a nice man, was treated as
+if he were not a friend to the deer, while the departed ones, whom
+she did not like at all, seemed to be their protectors. "Who are
+those men?" she asked, curiously.
+
+"Wal, I'll tell you," said Lucas, taking two moose ear skins from his
+pocket, and fitting them together to make a tobacco-pouch, "them two
+is fancy game men. The warden an' the guide likes to lounge in easy
+chairs round hotels an' tell of their doin's in the woods, how the
+poachers tremble an' run when they see 'em comin'. As a rule, they
+don't take to the woods till they're druv to it by some complaint.
+Then they're awful fierce, an' growl an' show their teeth, an' run
+home. Nobody don't care nothin' for 'em."
+
+"Are there many men killing deer?" asked the little girl, falteringly.
+
+"Many men!" groaned Lucas. "Law me, what a question! Las' year,
+leetle gal, thar was awful heavy snow, eight foot deep in Franklin
+County, seven foot in Somerset, Piscataquis, Penobscot, and
+Aroostook. What a year for big game! They couldn't git away. They was
+as helpless as sheep. Storm came on storm, till we was walkin' up
+among the tree branches and knockin' off the snow with a stick. Snow
+covered tracks, and poachers took possession o' the airth."
+
+"They lived high in the lumber camps, pop, do you mind?" said
+Zebedee, smacking his lips. "When a fellow was starvin' the smell
+just come out to meet him."
+
+"You bet, only you wasn't thar to smell it," said his father,
+sharply, "you mind that. You young ones takes to the woods too
+natural."
+
+He surveyed them with mingled pride and dissatisfaction, then came
+back to his reminiscences. "I vum that was a winter, but the deer
+would 'a' starved if they hadn't been shot, for the snow was so deep
+that they couldn't get to their food. That there Perch made a great
+flurry about gettin' in an' drivin' six deer to a swamp where they
+could git green stuff, but I don't believe a word of it. I believe he
+shot and ate them."
+
+"Do you mind the deer that was dogged into our yard, pop?" exclaimed
+Joe. "I saw 'em as they crossed the river--dog not fifteen foot
+behind."
+
+"And what became of that deer?" asked 'Tilda Jane, unsteadily.
+
+Lucas winked at his sons and concluded the story himself. "He run
+across our yard, an' among the bark pilers at Meek an' Sons' tannery.
+When the animal come runnin' down between the bark piles, some of the
+crew was for killin' him, but I was workin' thar, an' I wouldn't let
+'em. He stayed round close to us all day, an' when any dog come an'
+sniffed at him, he'd run up close an' tremble, an' ask us to see fair
+play."
+
+"You killed that deer," exclaimed 'Tilda Jane, bursting into tears.
+"Oh! why does God let men be so wicked?"
+
+Sobs were almost tearing her little, lean frame to pieces. She
+had not worked up gradually to a pitch of emotion, but had fallen
+immediately into it, and Lucas and his sons stared wonderingly at her.
+
+Poor little girl! She looked as if she had come through a sea of
+troubles, and pity stirred in the man's rough but not unkindly breast.
+
+"Shut up now, shut up, missy," he said, soothingly. "We did shoot
+that feller, but thar warn't nowhere to keep him, but deer has bin
+kep'. Soft now, an' I'll tell ye of Seth Winthrop, who has a park
+an' is a rich man. Las' year, when you couldn't go scarce five mile
+without seein' tracks o' blood in the snow where some one had been
+slaughterin', a moose was chased near Winthrop's place. He was so
+dead beat that he jus' stood an' trembled, an' one o' Winthrop's men
+put a halter on him, an' led him to the barnyard an' give him fodder
+an' drink, an' that livin' young moose is in Winthrop's park to-day,
+an' he weighs four hundred pound."
+
+'Tilda Jane was still sobbing, and Joe nudged his father. "Tell her
+'bout the bear, pop."
+
+"Now here's somethin' that'll make you laugh," said Lucas, kindly.
+"It's about a bad bear that went an' got drunk. I was on a fishin'
+trip, an' I had a jug o' black-strap with me. Know what that is,
+leetle gal?"
+
+"No-o-o," gasped 'Tilda Jane, who, rather ashamed of her emotion, was
+trying to sober herself.
+
+"Wal--it's the State o' Maine name for rum an' molasses mixed, an'
+you take it with you in case you git sick. There was some other men
+with me, an' they'd gone off in a boat on the lake. I had a gun,
+but 'pon my word I didn't think o' usin' it, 'count of gratitude to
+that b'ar for givin' me such a treat--just as good as a circus. Wal,
+I must tell how it happened. I didn't feel well that day--had a kind
+o' pain, an' I was lyin' on the bank in the sun, foolin' an' wishin'
+I was all right. By an' by, thinks I, I'll go to the camp an' hev
+a drink o' black-strap. I was mos' thar, when I met a wicked thief
+b'ar comin' out. Powers around, he was as tipsy as a tinker. He'd
+bin at my black-strap, an' I wish you could 'a' seen him. He didn't
+know where he was at, or where he wanted to be at, an' he was jolly,
+an' friendly, an' see-sawed roun' me, an' rolled an' swaggered till
+I tho't I'd die laughin'. My pain went like las' year's snow, an' I
+walked after that b'ar till he was out o' sight. Just like a drunken
+man he was, makin' for home, an' in the midst of all his foolery
+havin' an idea of where he'd oughter go. I'd 'a' given a good deal to
+see Mrs. B'ar's face when he arrove. An' didn't those other fellers
+give it to me for not shootin' him! I said I couldn't take a mean
+advantage of his sitooation."
+
+'Tilda Jane's face was composed now, and with a faint smile she
+reverted to the subject of the deer. "Don't you feel bad when you're
+killin' them, an' they looks at you with their big eyes?"
+
+"Look here, leetle gal, don't you talk no more 'bout them, or you'll
+hev me as mush-hearted as you be," said Lucas, getting up and going
+to the window. "At present I ain't got no feelin' about deer excep'
+that what's in the woods is ours. You jus' stand up an' try your
+feet. It's goin' to snow, an' I'd like to git you out o' here. Did
+you ever try to teeter along on snow-shoes?"
+
+"No, sir," she said, getting up and walking across the room.
+
+Lucas was anxiously surveying the sky. "'Pears like it was goin'
+to snow any minute. The las' thaw took the heft of it off the
+ground--you'd 'a' never got in this fur if it hadn't--an' we're bound
+to hev another big fall. It ain't fur to the road, an' I guess you
+an' Zebedee better start. Lemme see you walk, sissy."
+
+'Tilda Jane tottered back to her seat.
+
+"It's a smart trot home," observed Zebedee. "D'ye think she could
+foot it?"
+
+"Pop, it's snowin' now," said Joe, who had taken his father's place
+at the window.
+
+With almost incredible rapidity there had been a change in the
+weather. A small and sullen cloud had hidden the dreamy, thoughtful
+sun, and out of the cloud came wheeling, choking gusts, bearing
+bewildered snowflakes up and down, hither and thither, before
+allowing them to alight turbulently upon the quiet earth.
+
+"That's quick," muttered Lucas, philosophically. "We'll hev to put
+off opinions till it's over," and he again sat down by the fire. The
+wind tore around the small cabin, furiously seeking an entrance,
+but finding none. Outside at least he could have his will, and his
+vengeance fell upon the sturdy young firs and spruces, who at his
+fierce word of command threw off their burdens of snow, and bent
+and swayed before his wrath as wildly as the most graceful hardwood
+saplings. The older trees bent more reluctantly. They had seen many
+winters, many storms, yet occasionally a groan burst from them as
+the raging breath of the wind monster blew around some decaying giant
+and hurled him to the ground.
+
+'Tilda Jane pictured the scene without, and cowered closer to the
+fire. Gippie was on her lap, Poacher beside her, and this man with
+his two boys, who at present personified her best friends in the
+world, were safe and warm in their shelter.
+
+Her dark face cleared, and in dreamy content she listened to the
+string of hunting stories reeled off by the two boys, who, without
+addressing her directly, were evidently stimulated by the knowledge
+that here was an interested, appreciative, and "brand new" listener.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+A SUDDEN RESOLUTION.
+
+
+The storm did not abate. All day long it raged around the cabin, and
+the four prisoners talked, ate, and drank without grumbling at their
+captivity. When bedtime approached, Lucas addressed 'Tilda Jane in an
+apologetic manner. "Ye see we ain't used to havin' leetle gals, an'
+I'm afeard we can't make you very comfy, as my ole woman says, but
+we'll do the best we kin. This room's all we've got, but I'm goin'
+to try to make it two. See here," and rising, he went to one of the
+rough bunks built against the wall opposite the fire; "I'm a-goin' to
+drape ye off a place for yourself and dog," and, hanging a blanket on
+a hook by the fireplace, he called loudly for a nail to drive in the
+logs across the corner.
+
+The two boys, who were playing cards at the table, jumped up, and
+presently 'Tilda Jane had a snug corner to herself. Lucas had
+dragged out one of the fragrant fir beds from one of the bunks. The
+rustling of the evergreen inside reminded her of her narrow straw bed
+at the orphanage, and drawing the blanket over her, she nestled down
+and patiently waited for her friends to seek their equally fragrant
+couches. She was very sleepy, but she must not drop off until she had
+said her prayers. It never occurred to her to repeat them to herself.
+She must get up and say them aloud, and upon her knees.
+
+After some time there was silence outside her screen, except for the
+heavy breathing of the sleepers, and the slow, deliberate crackling
+of the fire over the fresh wood heaped upon it by Lucas.
+
+She crept quietly from her bed and knelt down. "Dear Father in
+heaven, I thank thee for saving my life. I might 'a' been dead at
+this minute if thou hadst not sent that good dog to find me. Please
+make me a better girl for being saved. I'll take good care o' that
+old man if thou wilt let me find him. Bless the red-haired man that
+owns this cabin. I guess he is a good man, Lord, but if he kills
+deer, wilt thou not lay on his heart a coal from thy altar? If he
+was a deer, he would not like to be killed. Bless him, dear Father
+in heaven, an' his two boys, an' bless me an' Gippie an' Poacher
+an' keep us safe for evermore,--an' bless the lady-boards, an' the
+matron, an' all the little orphans, an' let them find good homes an'
+get out o' the 'sylum,--Lord, I will write them a letter as soon as I
+get settled, an' confess what is wickedness, an' what ain't. I don't
+want to be a bad little girl. I want to live straight, an' go to
+heaven when I die, but I'm sorry I had to begin in a 'sylum. It ain't
+a place for children what likes animiles. For Jesus' sake, Amen."
+
+With a relieved sigh, 'Tilda Jane crept back to bed and went to
+sleep, quite unaware that her petition had awakened Lucas, who slept
+as lightly as a cat. She had waked him, and now he could not go to
+sleep. For a long time he lay motionless in his bunk, then softly
+getting up, he seated himself on one of the boxes before the fire,
+and let his head sink on his hands.
+
+Years ago he had had a deeply religious mother. One who would rise
+at dead of night and pray earnestly for her children. 'Tilda Jane's
+childish prayer had brought back this mother from her grave. What a
+good woman she had been! The dying wind, sobbing and sighing without,
+called to mind the camp-meetings that he used to attend when he was
+a boy. Churches were few and far between, and it was the event of
+the year for the scattered religious people to gather together under
+the pines for out-of-door services. He could hear the women singing
+now,--the weird sound of their voices floated down the chimney.
+Surely he was among them again,--that good, religious crowd.
+
+He shook himself, muttered an impatient exclamation, and went back to
+bed. No, they were mostly dead, his mother was in heaven, and he was
+a hard, impenitent man. But his children--something ought to be done
+about them. This little girl had stirred these old memories--Zebedee
+and Joe must quit this life, and, with a snarl of determination
+on his brow, he turned over and fell into a profound and resolved
+slumber.
+
+Early the next morning 'Tilda Jane heard some one stirring quietly
+about the cabin. She peeped from behind the screen, and found that
+it was the father of the boys. He was making coffee, and taking
+dishes from a shelf to set them on the small table. He was also
+frying meat.
+
+'Tilda Jane did not like to venture out until the boys had made
+their toilet, which they presently did by springing from their beds,
+drawing on their boots, and smoothing their thick locks with a piece
+of comb that reposed on a small shelf near a broken looking-glass.
+
+When they had finished, she piped through the screen, "Will you
+please gimme a lend o' the comb?"
+
+It was politely handed to her, and in a short time she made her
+appearance.
+
+"Ho--deer's meat!" said Joe, sniffing joyfully. "Where'd you get it,
+pop?"
+
+"Found half a carcass leanin' agin the door this mornin'," he said,
+briefly.
+
+"Some o' the boys must 'a' left it on their way out," remarked
+Zebedee. "Hard blow to travel in. Gimme some, pop."
+
+Lucas had settled himself at the table, and was eating with every
+appearance of enjoyment.
+
+"Nop," he said, pausing, and speaking with his mouth full. "That thar
+is for you an' the leetle gal."
+
+The boys stared at him in undisguised astonishment.
+
+"Fall to," he said, inexorably, "eat your bacon and beans, an' be
+thankful you've got 'em. There's many an empty stummick in the woods
+this mornin'."
+
+Joe, who was readier of speech than his brother, found his tongue
+first. "Ain't you goin' to give us any fresh meat, pop?"
+
+"No, sir-r-r."
+
+"You ain't got loony in the night, pop?"
+
+"Y' don't calklate to eat half a carcass y'rself, do ye?" said
+Zebedee, with a feeble attempt at a joke.
+
+"Nop--what I don't eat, I'll lug off in the woods."
+
+"He's loony," said Joe, with resignation, and serving himself with
+bacon.
+
+'Tilda Jane was silently eating bread and beans, and to her Lucas
+addressed himself. "Leetle gal, the storm's a-goin' to conclude
+accordin' to my reckonin'. Kin you foot it out on snow-shoes this
+mornin' to the nearest house, do you s'pose?"
+
+"Yes, sir," she said, quietly.
+
+"An' you two boys will keep her comp'ny," said Lucas, turning to his
+sons. "I'm a-goin' to march on to Morse's camp."
+
+There was a howl of dismay from Joe. "You give me your word Zebedee
+was to go."
+
+"An' I give you my word now that you're to go," said his father,
+sternly. "In an hour I'll make tracks. You two wait till the last
+flake's settled, then take the leetle gal an' git her out safe an'
+sound to William Mercer's. Ask him to hitch up an' take her over to
+Nicatoos station, an' I'll settle with him. Then you skedaddle for
+home, git out your books, an' to-morrer go to school."
+
+This time there was a simultaneous howl from the boys, and in the
+midst of their distress could be heard faintly articulated the words,
+"Pop--books--school!"
+
+Lucas turned to 'Tilda Jane. "Yes, we're poachers, leetle gal, an'
+when I ask ye to say nothin' about what ye've seen an' heard here, I
+know ye'll keep as mum as we do. I'm a poacher, an' I'm goin' to hev
+a hard time to give it up. They used to call me king o' the poachers,
+till another feller come along smarter nor I was. Anyway, I can't
+give it up yet. It's in my blood now, an' men as ole as I be don't
+repent easy. It's when ye're young an' squshy that you repents. But
+these two cubs o' mine," and he eyed his boys with determination,
+"has got to give up evil ways right off. Ye've got to go to school,
+sons, an' learn somethin', an' quit poachin', an' hevin' the law
+hangin' over ye all the time."
+
+The boys looked ugly and rebellious, and, perceiving it, he went on.
+"Come now, none o' that; when ye're respectable, hard-workin' men
+ye'll be ashamed o' your father, an' that'll be my punishment if I
+don't get out o' this. An' you needn't kick, 'cause I'll lick ye all
+to splinters if I ketches one o' you in the woods this spring. Ye've
+got to turn right round."
+
+"I'll turn right round an' come back," said Zebedee, bitterly and
+furiously.
+
+Lucas got up, took him by the coat collar, and, without a word, led
+him outside the cabin.
+
+A few minutes later they returned--both flushed--Lucas grim and
+determined, and Zebedee sulky and conquered.
+
+"Air you also cravin' for an argyment?" asked Lucas, ironically, of
+Joe.
+
+"I'm cravin' to lick you," said the boy, bursting out into a wild
+raving and swearing at him.
+
+"Swearin' when there is ladies present," said his father, seizing him
+by the shoulder, and dragging him the way his brother had gone.
+
+'Tilda Jane stopped eating, and sat miserably with downcast eyes.
+She felt dimly that she had made trouble in this family, and brought
+additional misfortune upon herself, for what kind of escorts would
+these whipped boys be?
+
+Lucas's tussle with Joe was a longer one than the former with Zebedee
+had been, and not until after some time did he return. Joe hung about
+outside for an hour, then he came in, shaking and stamping the snow
+from him, and, as if nothing had happened, sat down and finished his
+breakfast.
+
+Lucas, meanwhile, had been making preparations for his long tramp.
+'Tilda Jane watched him with interest as he took a sack, tied a
+potato in each corner, and proceeded to fill it with parcels of
+provisions.
+
+When at last he sat down, took off his cow-hide moccasins, and began
+to tie on soft moose moccasins, fit for snow-shoeing, he addressed
+his two boys.
+
+"When parients tell their children things air to be did, they ought
+to be did. When the children raves an' tears, they ought to be
+licked, an' when the lickin's over, the reasons come. Air you sighin'
+either o' ye to see the inside o' State's prison? Air you, Zebedee?"
+
+"No, sir," said the boy, shortly.
+
+"Air you, Joe?"
+
+Joe, with his mouth full of beans, replied that he was not.
+
+"Wal, that's where you'll land if ye don't quit breakin' State's law.
+Ye ain't either o' ye as clever as I be, but I've got to try to give
+it up, too. I've bin feelin' that ye'd git caught some day, and I've
+made up my mind, an' I'll hold it to my dyin' day. I'm goin' to crowd
+ye out o' this risky game. If I ketch one o' you after deer agin,
+I'll give ye up to the warden myself. I swan I will," and he brought
+his hand down energetically on the table. "Now you go home an' go to
+school with smart boys an' gals till summer vacation, then ye can
+tell me what ye think of it. I'll not pretend I'll let ye out of it
+if ye don't like it, but I guess ye will. Ye've bin to school before
+an' made good progress, an' I asks yer pardon for takin' ye out."
+
+Zebedee listened in quiet resentfulness, but Joe, who possessed a
+more volatile disposition, and who having satisfied his hunger was
+comparatively good-natured, remarked, "What'll ye do about Poacher,
+pop?"
+
+Lucas's face darkened suddenly, and unhappily.
+
+"Come here, ole boy," he said, and when the dog went to him, he bowed
+his head for a minute over him. "We've bin good friends--me an' you.
+Many's the trap I've led ye in, an' many a time my heart would 'a'
+bin sore if ye'd a bin caught. An' now, 'count o' my transgression,
+ye're a wanderin' sheep. Ye'll never git back in the fold agin unless
+some good sheep leads ye."
+
+"There's somethin' you can't make over," said Zebedee, briefly.
+"He'll chase deer as long as he kin wag a leg."
+
+"Leetle gal," said Lucas, suddenly, "would ye like to hev this dog?"
+
+"To have him--that beauty dog!" 'Tilda Jane gasped, confusedly. "Oh,
+sir, you'd never give him away."
+
+"I'd most as soon give a child away," said Lucas, "an' I'd never do
+it, if it warn't for his habits. Ye're a-goin' to Ciscasset, which is
+somethin' of a place, an' a ways from the woods. An' ye'll pet him
+an' kinder cherish him, an' keep him from frettin' an' bein' lonely.
+My ole woman don't set much store by dogs, an' when I'm workin' in
+the tannery he's off doggin' deer by himself. He's nearly got shot
+dead. See those ripples in his back? That's where he's bin grazed.
+Poacher, ole boy, you've got to go with this leetle gal, if she'll
+hev you."
+
+'Tilda Jane hesitated, stammered, looked into the dog's anxious face,
+and the boys' protesting ones, and said at last, "But the ole man
+where I'm goin', mebbe he'll breach at my havin' two dogs."
+
+"Prob'bly he will," said Lucas, "but you crowd right up to him.
+Folks is queer 'bout dogs. Them as don't like 'em don't want to give
+'em standin' room on this airth, but you walk right up to 'em an'
+say, 'This dog has as good a right to a place on God's footstool as
+you hev, an' I'm goin' to see he gits it. If you was more like a
+dog yerself, ye'd be more thought of, ye cross-grained, cranky ole
+skillingsby'--come you, sons, quit that scowlin'. Do ye know why I'm
+givin' that dog to the little gal stid o' you?"
+
+They uttered a brief negative.
+
+"'Cause she knows dog language," said Lucas, dropping his voice to a
+whisper, and looking mysteriously over his shoulder, "an' if there
+was a deer here, you'd find she knowed deer talk. You, sons, is fond
+o' dogs, but not in the style the leetle gal is, or I be. It's a kind
+o' smartness at gettin' inside the animal's skin. He don't verily
+talk. Ye jist understan' him without talk--leetle gal, what's Poacher
+sayin' now?"
+
+"Oh, he don't want to go with me," burst out 'Tilda Jane, with
+energy. "He's a sick dog. Look at his eyes an' his droopin' ears. He
+don't want you to give him away. He don't want me to take him. Oh, I
+can't!" and she buried her face in her hands as if to hide temptation
+from her.
+
+"He's got to go," said Lucas, stroking Poacher's head, "an' mind
+me, dog," and he put his hand under the dog's jaws and lifted them
+so that he could look in his eyes, "no runnin' away from Ciscasset.
+Ye stay with that leetle gal. Don't ye come chasin' round here,
+'cause if ye do, I'll turn my back on ye for a runaway, an' ye'll
+feel worse'n ye do now when we part on speakin' terms. Say, is it a
+bargain, ole feller? Call him, leetle gal."
+
+'Tilda Jane was overawed by Lucas's determined manner, and dropping
+her hands she ejaculated feebly, "Here, Poacher, Poacher!"
+
+The dog looked at her, then pressed closer to his master, whereupon
+Lucas seized a stick by the fireplace, and struck him sharply.
+
+Poacher turned his large brown eyes on him in one despairing,
+reproachful glance, then with drooping head sauntered across the room
+to the boys.
+
+"Call him," said Lucas to 'Tilda Jane. "Speak up as if ye knew he was
+your dog."
+
+"Poacher," she said, in a firm voice, "come here. You're mos' as
+unhappy as I be--we'll be unhappy together."
+
+The suffering animal moved slowly toward her, and laid his head on
+her lap.
+
+There were tears in his eyes, and the little girl groaned as she
+wiped them away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+FAREWELL TO THE POACHERS.
+
+
+Lucas was ready to start, and 'Tilda Jane and the boys stood in the
+doorway watching him tie on his snow-shoes.
+
+"Now, sons," he said, straightening himself up and drawing on his
+woollen mittens, "I'm goin' one way an' you another, but if ye act
+contrairy an' pouty to that leetle gal, I'll know it, for she's
+goin' to write me, an' if there's any complaint, there'll be such a
+wallopin' as these ones this mornin' would be a shadder an' a dream
+to."
+
+His lecture over, he looked over his shoulder and narrowly inspected
+the faces of his two boys. They were reserved, almost expressionless.
+It might be a month before he saw them again. He forgot 'Tilda Jane
+for an instant, "Sons--ye know yer pop loves ye, don't ye?"
+
+His tone had suddenly changed, and the two big boys ran to him as
+if they still were children. "Pop, can't we come back after we take
+her out?" they exclaimed, with backward jerks of their heads toward
+'Tilda Jane. Their hands were on his arms, and they were roughly
+fondling his shoulders--these two unmannerly cubs of his.
+
+"Sons," he said, in a broken voice, "I ain't been a good father to
+ye. I've got to spend the last o' my life in rootin' up the weeds I
+sowed the fust part. I don't want you to have such a crop. Now you go
+'long out an' be good sons. Your mother'll be sot up, an' you mind
+what she says, an' I'll soon come home. Take good care o' the leetle
+gal," and passing his hand, first over one brown head, then over the
+other, he tramped away out of view among the snowy spruces.
+
+The boys and 'Tilda Jane went back into the cabin. The two former sat
+together by the fire and talked, taking little notice of her. All
+their friendliness of the evening before was gone, yet they were not
+openly unkind, but simply neglectful. Toward noon the snow ceased
+falling, as Lucas had predicted, the sun came out brilliantly, and
+they began making preparations for departure.
+
+Zebedee was to wear an old pair of snow-shoes that had been left in
+the cabin, and 'Tilda Jane was to put on his new ones. Her humility
+and unselfishness slightly thawed the boys' reserve, and when they at
+last started, her ridiculous attempts at snow-shoeing threw them into
+fits of laughter.
+
+Zebedee carried the infirm Gippie, who otherwise would have sunk to
+his neck in the snow, Poacher soberly plunged his way along, while
+Joe assisted 'Tilda Jane in keeping her equilibrium. After an hour's
+travel, she had become quite expert in the art of taking wide steps,
+and no longer needed his helping hand.
+
+"Air we mos' there?" she asked.
+
+"In the span of another hour and a half," said Joe.
+
+The hour and a half went by. They tramped on under the serene blue of
+the sky, and in such a solemn stillness that it seemed as if never a
+bird nor beast could have inhabited this white wilderness. Only the
+voiceless, silent trees were there, clad all in white like ghosts
+of departed living things. But at last their winding way through
+the wood came to an end, and they stepped out on the old road. Here
+were evidences of travel. A few teams had passed by, and there were
+snow-shoe tracks alongside those of the sleigh runners.
+
+The trees also grew more sparsely, and soon gave place to clearings,
+then the distant roof of a barn appeared, and finally a long, thin
+string of small farmhouses winding down a bleak road before them.
+
+"Is this your home?" asked 'Tilda Jane, of the boys.
+
+"Nop," answered Joe, "we live off'n that way," and he pointed down a
+road to the left. "But we've got to take you here to the Mercers',
+pop said."
+
+He drew up before the first in the string of houses,--a poor
+enough place, and unspeakably chilling in its deathly whiteness. A
+tiny white house, a white barn, a white fence, a white cow in the
+yard,--white snow over everything.
+
+"Looks as if they'd all died an' gone to heaven," thought 'Tilda
+Jane, with a shiver.
+
+"Hole on," said Joe. "I'll run ahead an' see if the folks is home.
+Ain't no smoke cornin' out o' the chimney."
+
+He swung open the gate, hurried in, pounded at the front door,
+pounded at the back door, and finally returned. "Guess there mus' be
+a funeral or somethin'--all off, anyway. What'll we do, Zeb?"
+
+Zebedee shrugged his shoulders. "S'pose we go nex' door?"
+
+"But them's the Folcutts," objected Joe.
+
+"S'pose they be."
+
+"Well, you know--"
+
+"Guess they kin drive as well as Mercer's folks."
+
+"What would pop say?"
+
+"It's nearer than the nex' house."
+
+"I'm kind o' tired," said 'Tilda Jane, politely and faintly. "Just
+drop me, an' you go back. I'll find some one."
+
+"Nop," said Joe, firmly, "we promised pop."
+
+"Come on," said Zebedee, "let's try the Folcutts."
+
+They went slowly on to the next blot on the landscape,--this one, a
+low-roofed, red house with untidy windows, and a feeble, wavering
+line of smoke rising from the kitchen chimney.
+
+They all went around to the back door, and, in response to their
+knock a slatternly woman appeared.
+
+"What you want, boys?"
+
+"Pop says will you take this gal to Nicatoos station?" asked Joe.
+"He'll square up with you when he comes out."
+
+The woman looked 'Tilda Jane all over. "The roads is main heavy."
+
+'Tilda Jane leaned up against the door-post, and the woman relented.
+"I guess it won't kill our hoss," she remarked. "Is it the seven
+o'clocker you want?"
+
+'Tilda Jane appealed to the boys.
+
+"Yes, m'am," responded Joe, promptly.
+
+"Needn't start for an hour yit. Come on in, boys."
+
+"I guess we'll be goin' on home," said Zebedee.
+
+Joe, for some reason or other, seemed reluctant to leave 'Tilda Jane.
+He carefully lifted Gippie to a resting-place by the kitchen stove,
+untied 'Tilda Jane's snow-shoes and strapped them on his back,
+stroked Poacher repeatedly, and finally with a hearty "So long,
+little gal, let's hear from you," he made her an awkward bob of his
+head and ran after his brother, who had reached the road.
+
+'Tilda Jane drew up to the stove, and, while she sat drying her
+dress, looked about her. What a dirty kitchen! The log cabin she had
+just left was neatness itself compared with this place. Pots and pans
+were heaped in a corner of the room, the table was littered with
+soiled dishes, the woman herself was unkempt, frowsy, and dispirited
+in appearance.
+
+She was also cunning, for, while she seized a broom and stirred about
+the accumulation of dust on the floor, she inspected the little girl
+with curious, furtive glances.
+
+"You bin stoppin' with the Lucases?" she asked, at last.
+
+She had opened the door, and while she looked one way she carelessly
+tried to sweep in another way the pile of rubbish she had collected.
+
+"Yes, m'am," said 'Tilda Jane, wearily.
+
+"How's Mis' Lucas?"
+
+'Tilda Jane paused to gaze out the open door. Why did not the woman
+shut it? And why, when it was so pure and clean without, did she
+not feel ashamed to keep so dull and untidy a house? If it were
+summer-time, and the ground were brown and green, this dun-coloured
+room would not be so bad, but now--the contrast made her sick.
+
+"How's Mis' Lucas?" repeated her hostess, in a dull voice.
+
+"I don't know," replied 'Tilda Jane.
+
+Mrs. Folcutt poised herself on her broom and with rustic deliberation
+weighed the statement just made. Then she said, "She ain't gone away?"
+
+"I dunno," said 'Tilda Jane, "I never see her in my life."
+
+Here was a puzzle, and Mrs. Folcutt pondered over it in silence,
+until the draught of chilly air made her remember to close the door.
+
+"Are we to start soon?" inquired 'Tilda Jane, after a time.
+
+"I ain't a-goin' to take you," said her hostess, unamiably, "it's
+Uzziah--Uzziah!" and she went to an open stairway leading from the
+kitchen.
+
+"What cher want?" came back, in an impatient tone.
+
+"You're wanted. Passenger for the station."
+
+A boy speedily appeared. 'Tilda Jane was not prepossessed in his
+favour as he came lumbering down the staircase, and she was still
+less so when he stood before her. He had his mother's sharp face,
+lean head, and cunning eyes, and he was so alarmingly dirty that she
+found herself wondering whether he had ever touched water to his face
+and hands since the winter began.
+
+"Go hitch up an' take this gal to the station," said his mother, in
+feeble command.
+
+He stood scrutinising 'Tilda Jane. "Who fur?"
+
+"Bob Lucas."
+
+"How much'll he gimme?"
+
+"I dunno. He'll pay when he comes out."
+
+"S'pose the warden ketches him?"
+
+"He ain't bin ketched yit."
+
+"He's goin' to--so they say at the post-office."
+
+"I've got fifty cents," said 'Tilda Jane, with dignity. "Here it is,"
+and she laid it on the table.
+
+The youthful fox snatched at it, and grinned at his mother as he
+pocketed it.
+
+"Say--that ain't fair," remarked 'Tilda Jane. "You ain't kerried me
+yet."
+
+"She's right," said the more mature fox. "Give it back, Uzzy."
+
+Uzziah unwillingly restored the coin to 'Tilda Jane.
+
+"Now go hitch up," said his mother.
+
+He sidled out of the room and disappeared, and Mrs. Folcutt's
+covetous eye wandered over 'Tilda Jane's wearing apparel. "Say,
+sissy, that's a pooty fair shawl you took off'n your dog. I always
+favour stripes."
+
+"So do I," replied 'Tilda Jane, and, with a premonition of what was
+coming, she turned her head and gazed out the window.
+
+"I guess you might as well square up with us," said the slatternly
+woman, seating herself near her caller and speaking in' persuasive
+accents, "and then you'll not hev to be beholden to Bob Lucas. It's
+jus' as well for a nice little gal like you to hev no dealin's with
+them Lucases."
+
+"That shawl ain't mine," said 'Tilda Jane, sharply.
+
+This statement did not seem worth challenging by the woman, for she
+went on in the same wheedling voice, "You'll not hev no call for it
+on the cars. I kin lend you somethin' for the dog to ride down in.
+It's too good for wrappin' him," and she gazed contemptuously at
+Gippie.
+
+'Tilda Jane drew in her wandering gaze from the window, and fixed it
+desperately on Poacher, who was lying under the stove winking sadly
+but amiably at her. Was no one perfect? Lucas hunted deer, this good
+dog helped him, his boys were naughty, this woman was a sloven and a
+kind of thief, her boy was a rogue, and she herself--'Tilda Jane was
+a little runaway girl. "You can have this tippet," she said, sternly.
+"That shawl's got to be sent back to where it comes from."
+
+"Oh, you stole it, did ye?" said the woman, with a sneer. "Well,
+I guess we kin hitch up for no thieves," and she got up and moved
+deliberately toward the door as if she would recall her son.
+
+'Tilda Jane's nimble fancy ran over possibilities. She had fallen
+among sharpers, she must be as sharp as they. Her offensive manner
+fell from her. "Look here," she said, bluntly, "I ain't got one
+mite o' money but that fifty-cent piece. If your boy'll drive me to
+Nicatoos right off, I'll give him that as I said, an' I'll send back
+the shawl by him. But if you don't want to do it, speak right up, an'
+I'll move on to the next house, and," she continued boldly as she saw
+consent on the cunning face, "you've got to give me somethin' to eat
+an' drink with it, 'cause I've got two dogs to take care of, an' I
+don't want to get to Ciscasset and tumble over from bein' fainty."
+
+Mrs. Folcutt's gray face became illumined by a silly smile. There was
+not a shawl like that in the settlement, and bustling to her feet,
+she stroked it and felt it with admiring fingers, until admonished by
+'Tilda Jane that time was passing, and if she was going to get her
+anything to eat she had better be quick about it.
+
+The little girl almost choked over the sloppy tea from the venerable
+teapot, the shady bread and butter, and the composite dish of
+preserves set before her, yet resolutely shutting her eyes she ate
+and drank, and forced Gippie to do the same. Poacher would touch
+nothing. "Don't ye know them huntin' dogs eats only once a day?" said
+Mrs. Folcutt, contemptuously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+AN ATTEMPTED TRICK.
+
+
+"How fur are we from Nicatoos?" inquired 'Tilda Jane of her
+charioteer one hour later.
+
+"A matter of a mile," he replied, beating his disengaged hand upon
+his knees. He was sulky and cold, and 'Tilda Jane averted her glance
+from him to his small brown nag, who was trotting along as cheerfully
+as if there were a reward at the end of the drive for him.
+
+He was a curious little horse. Surely there never before was one with
+such a heavy coat of hair. He looked like a wild animal, and with
+gladness of heart she noted his fat sides. The Folcutts might be mean
+and untidy, but they certainly were good to this faithful friend, and
+her mind went off in puzzled reflection.
+
+She was pursuing the same line of thought of an hour before. No one
+was perfect, yet no one was wholly bad. There was good in everybody
+and everything. Poacher was a bad dog in some respects, and she cast
+a glance at him as he came trotting sleek and thoughtful behind the
+sleigh, but what a noble character he was in other respects! Gippie
+was a crank, and she pressed closer the small animal beside her, but
+he had his good points, and he was certainly a great comfort to her.
+
+Her heart was much lighter now that she was drawing nearer to
+the train that was to take her to Ciscasset, and in raising her
+little, weary head gratefully to the sky, she noted in quick and
+acute appreciation an unusually beautiful sunset. The colours were
+subdued--the sky was as hard and as cold as steel, but how clear,
+how brilliantly clear and calm! She would have fine weather for her
+arrival in her new home.
+
+She was glad that she was not to stay here. She felt herself quite a
+travelled orphan now, and somewhat disdainfully classed this rough
+settlement as "back-woodsy." The houses were uninviting and far
+apart, the roads and yards were desolate. The men were in the woods,
+the women and children were inside huddling around the fires. Middle
+Marsden was a quiet place, but it had not seemed as much out of the
+world as this. She hoped Ciscasset would be cheerful. Her travels
+had given her a liking for meeting new faces, and for enjoying
+some slight excitement. Not as much as she had had during the last
+few days--no, not as much as that. It was too trying for her, and
+she smiled faintly as she called up her last vision of her little
+careworn face in the cracked looking-glass in the log cabin.
+
+"What's the matter?" she asked, abruptly.
+
+The sleigh had come to a sudden standstill, and the boy was holding
+the lines in dogged silence.
+
+"Why don't you drive on?" she asked.
+
+"Now you jus' looky here," he replied, in a rough and bullying tone.
+"I ain't a-goin' one step furder. I'm mos' froze, an' the station's
+right ahead. You foller yer nose a spell, an' you'll git thar. Gimme
+the shawl an' the fifty cents, an' git out."
+
+For one moment 'Tilda Jane sat in blank amazement. Then she looked
+from his dirty, obstinate face to the plump pony. The latter showed
+no signs of fatigue. He could go for miles yet. If he had made a
+plea for the harness, she would not have so much wondered, for it was
+patched and mended with rope in a dozen places.
+
+Then her blood slowly reached boiling-point. She had stood a good
+deal from these Folcutts. The shawl was worth five dollars. That she
+knew, for she remembered hearing the matron tell how much it had cost
+her. She had overpaid them for this drive, and she was not prepared
+to flounder on through the snow and perhaps miss her train.
+
+Her mind, fertile in resources, speedily hit upon something. She must
+get this bully out of the sleigh, and she fixed him with a glance
+more determined than his own. He had on a rough homespun suit of
+clothes, and a home-made cap to match it. This cap was pulled tightly
+over his ears, but it was not on tight enough to resist 'Tilda Jane's
+quick and angry fingers.
+
+Plucking it off, she threw it over a snake fence into a snow-bank,
+saying at the same time, "If you're goin' to turn me out, I'll turn
+you out first."
+
+The boy was furious, but the cold wind smote his head, and,
+postponing retaliation, he sprang first for his cap, shouting
+warningly, however, as he swung his leg over the fence, "I'll make
+you pay up for this, you--"
+
+'Tilda Jane neither heard nor cared for the offensive epithet applied
+to her. With feet firmly braced, both hands grasping the lines,
+Gippie beside her, and Poacher racing behind, she was sweeping down
+the road. She had never driven a horse before in her life, but she
+adored new experiences, and she had carefully watched every motion of
+the young lout beside her.
+
+He could scarcely believe his eyes. He gaped speechless for a few
+minutes, for the sound of the sleigh-bells had made him turn sharply
+as he was picking up his cap. Then he restored the covering to his
+head, ran to the fence, and bawled, helplessly, "Stop thar--stop!
+Stop!"
+
+'Tilda Jane was skimming gaily around a turn in the road toward the
+sunset. He thought he heard a jeering laugh from her, but he was
+mistaken. Having got what she wanted, she was going obliviously on
+her way. The boy had been an obstacle, and she had brushed him aside.
+
+[Illustration: "'STOP THAR--STOP! STOP!'"]
+
+With his slower brain he was forced to pause and deliberate. Had she
+stolen their rig? Stupid as he was, the conviction forced itself
+upon him that she had not. She could not take the rig on the train,
+anyway, and plucking up courage, and shivering in the cold that had
+seized upon him during his deliberations, he meditatively and angrily
+began to plod over the route that he had recommended to her.
+
+Three-quarters of an hour later, he drew into the station yard. The
+train had come and gone, and his eager eyes went to the pony tied
+safe and sound under the shed, with not only the lap-robe over his
+back, but also the striped shawl--the first and last time that he
+would have the pleasure of wearing it.
+
+At the sound of the bells when he turned the sleigh, the telegraph
+operator came to the station door. "Here's fifty cents for you, left
+by a black-eyed girl."
+
+Without a "thank you," the boy held out his hand.
+
+"I guess you don't like that black-eyed girl much," said the young
+man, teasingly.
+
+"She's a--" and the boy broke into an oath.
+
+"Shut up!" said the young man, with a darkening face. Then with some
+curiosity he went on, "What did she do to make you talk like that?"
+
+"Spilt me out," replied the boy, with another volley of bad language.
+
+"You young hound," said the man, witheringly, "if she spilt you
+out, I'll bet you deserved it. I'll not touch your dirty hand. If
+you want your money, go find it," and throwing the fifty cents in a
+snow-drift, he went back into the warm station and slammed the door
+behind him.
+
+Uzziah's troubles were not over, and he had still to learn that the
+way of the transgressor is a tiresome one. He fumbled desperately in
+the snow, for he wanted fifty cents above all things in the world
+just then, but he was destined not to find it; and at last, cold,
+weary, and yet with all his faults not inclined to wreak his wrath
+on the pony who stood patiently watching him, he threw himself into
+the sleigh and sped gloomily homeward. His mother had the shawl, but
+he had nothing for his trouble, for he counted as nothing and worse
+than nothing his experience of the maxim that one sly trick inspires
+another.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+HOME, SWEET HOME.
+
+
+'Tilda Jane was in a quandary. She had boarded the train for
+Ciscasset, she sat up very straight and apparently very composed--her
+outward demeanour gave not a hint of the turmoil within. In reality
+she was full of trouble. She had not a cent of money in her pocket,
+and her new familiarity with the workings of the Maine Central
+Railway assured her that it did not carry passengers for nothing.
+
+What was she to do? She pulled the little tippet more closely around
+Gippie's shoulders. She had taken it from her own, for it was
+absolutely necessary for him to have another covering now that the
+shawl was gone. Perhaps he would be taken away from her. She had
+noticed that it was not a customary thing for people to travel with
+dogs. His head and tail were plainly visible--this tippet was not
+like the voluminous shawl.
+
+Lucas had not offered her money, and she had not liked to ask him for
+it. Perhaps he had not thought about it. Perhaps if he did think of
+it, he supposed that he was doing enough to get her to Nicatoos--and
+there was the conductor entering the other end of the car. She must
+do something, and deliberately rising from her seat, she slipped
+Gippie under her arm, and made her way out to the platform of the
+fast moving train.
+
+It was quite dark now. She gave one side glance at the white, silent
+country they were passing through, then stepped into the lighted car
+ahead.
+
+"This is a smoking-car, young girl," observed some one, haughtily.
+
+'Tilda Jane had dropped into the first seat she came to, which
+happened to be beside a very stout and very dignified gentleman who
+had a cigar in his mouth, and who was reading a newspaper.
+
+She looked round, saw that there were a number of men in the car--no
+women, no children, and that the atmosphere was a hazy blue.
+
+"Smoke don't bother me," she said, almost scornfully. What was a
+breath of smoke compared with her inward discomposure over her
+pecuniary difficulties?
+
+"I'm in a little trouble," she said, brusquely, "I ain't got money to
+buy a ticket."
+
+The gentleman gazed at her suspiciously. "I have no money for
+beggars," he said, and he turned his broad back squarely on her.
+
+'Tilda Jane, for one so obstinate, was strangely sensitive. With
+her face in a flame of colour, she rose. Had any one else heard the
+insult? No, not a man in the car was looking her way.
+
+"I'm a poor little girl," she breathed over the gentleman's
+substantial shoulder, "but I'm no beggar. I guess I work as hard as
+you do. I wanted you to lend me a dollar or so to be sent back in a
+letter, but I wouldn't take it now--no, not if you crawled after me
+on your hands an' knees like a dog holdin' it in your mouth," and
+precipitately leaving him, she sauntered down the aisle.
+
+The gentleman turned around, and with an amazed face gazed after
+her. Stay--there she was pausing by the seat in which was his son.
+Should he warn him against the youthful adventuress? No, he was old
+enough to take care of himself, and he settled back in his corner and
+devoted himself to his paper.
+
+The only person in the last seat in the car was a lad of seventeen
+or eighteen who was neither reading nor smoking, but lounging across
+it, while he suppressed innumerable yawns. He was very handsome, and
+he looked lazy and good-natured, and to him 'Tilda Jane accordingly
+addressed herself. She had hesitated, after the rebuff she had
+received, to apply to any of those other men with their resolved,
+middle-aged or elderly faces. This lad she was not at all afraid of,
+and resting Gippie on the arm of his seat, she stared admiringly at
+him.
+
+He straightened himself. Here was something interesting, and his
+yawns ceased.
+
+"Well, miss, what can I do for you?" he inquired, mischievously, as
+she continued to stare at him without speaking.
+
+He would lend her the money, she knew it before she asked him. There
+was something else in her mind now, and her little sharp eyes were
+full of tears.
+
+"Is anything the matter with you?" he asked, politely.
+
+She could not answer him for a few seconds, but then she swallowed
+the lump in her throat and ejaculated, "No, sir, only you are so
+pretty."
+
+"Pretty!" he repeated, in bewilderment.
+
+"Yes," she said in low, passionate, almost resentful tones, "you
+ain't got no 'casion for those blue eyes an' that yeller hair. I wish
+I could take 'em away from you. I'd 'a' been 'dopted if I had 'em. I
+wouldn't be standin' here."
+
+"Won't you sit down?" he asked, courteously, and with a flattered
+air. He was very young, and to have a strange child melt into tears
+at the sight of his handsome face was a compliment calculated to
+touch even an older heart than his.
+
+'Tilda Jane, with a heavy sigh, seated herself beside him. "I'm kind
+o' put out," she said, languidly, "you must s'cuse me."
+
+After her interest in him, he could do nothing less than murmur a
+civil inquiry as to the cause of her concern.
+
+"I've been tryin' to borrer money," she replied, "an' I was 'sulted."
+
+"To borrow money--then you are short of funds?"
+
+"Yes, sir," she said, calmly, "I'm a-travellin', but I ain't got no
+money to pay for me nor for this dog, an' his head an' tail shows
+this time, an' he'll be nabbed."
+
+"Where are you going?" asked the lad.
+
+"To Ciscasset, sir, if I ever get there. I'm beginnin' to think there
+ain't no such place."
+
+"I assure you there is, for I live in it myself."
+
+"Do you?" she ejaculated, with a flash of interest. "Do you know a
+man by the name of Hobart Dillson?"
+
+"Rather--he was my father's bookkeeper for years. We pension him
+now," he added, grandly, and with a wish to impress.
+
+'Tilda Jane was not impressed, for she did not know what a pension
+was.
+
+"What kind of a feller is he?" she asked, eagerly.
+
+"Oh, a sort of tiger--might be in a cage, you know, but we haven't
+got one big enough."
+
+"You mean he gets mad easy?"
+
+"Never gets un-mad. Always stays so. Is a regular joke, you know.
+Going to visit him?"
+
+"I'm goin' to be his housekeeper," said 'Tilda Jane, with dignity.
+
+The lad cast a rapid and amused glance over her small resolved
+figure, then taking his handkerchief from his pocket, turned his face
+to the window, and coughed vigorously.
+
+"I can fight, too," she added, after a pause, "but--" slowly, "I
+sha'n't fight him."
+
+The lad did not turn around except to throw her one gleam from the
+corner of a laughing eye, until she ejaculated uneasily, "There comes
+the conductor--are you a-goin' to lend me some money?"
+
+His face reappeared--quite sober now. "Well, young lady, I am not
+a capitalist, but I think I can raise you a loan. How much do you
+want--that is, where did you come on?"
+
+"I come on at Nicatoos, an' I've another dog in the baggage-car."
+
+"Travelling with two dogs," he murmured, "and short of funds. You
+have courage!"
+
+"I like some animiles better'n some people," observed 'Tilda Jane,
+sententiously.
+
+"Your sentiment does you credit," he replied, gravely, and as the
+conductor approached, he held out his hand. "I pay for this little
+girl and her dog in the baggage-car."
+
+"That's a fine hound you've got," the conductor observed, civilly, to
+'Tilda Jane.
+
+"Yes, sir," she replied, meekly. "I hope he ain't scared o' the
+train."
+
+"He don't like it much, but some of the boys have been playing with
+him. Why--" and he drew back in surprise, "you're the obstinate young
+one I pointed out to the inspector the other day. Here--you needn't
+pay," and he put in her hand the money her new friend had just given
+him. "There was a great racket about you. You needn't have run away
+from Vanceboro--if you'd spoken the truth, you'd saved yourself and
+us a lot of trouble. However, I guess they'll be glad to hear you're
+all right."
+
+"I'll be 'bliged if you'll give my respecks to Mr. Jack," she said,
+steadily.
+
+"I'll do it," said the conductor, "and tell him you've picked up
+another dog," and with a wink at her companion, he passed on.
+
+"Accep' my thanks," she said, after a time, handing the loose change
+in her lap to the lad.
+
+"Keep it," he replied, generously. "I don't want it."
+
+A grim flash like a streak of lightning passed over her dark face,
+and he added, hastily, "As a loan, of course. You may need money for
+your dogs. Old Hobart will begrudge them a bone, I assure you."
+
+She thanked him, and thoughtfully tied the money in a corner of her
+handkerchief.
+
+"Now if his son were home, he would be different. Hank is a rattling,
+good-natured sort of a fellow. No principle, you know, but not a
+tiger by any means."
+
+"I'll thank you, sir, to keep a stiff tongue when you're talkin'
+of Hank Dillson," observed 'Tilda Jane, severely. "He's done me
+favours, an' you'd better keep your tongue off his father, too. If
+you're dyin' to pitch into some one, pitch into that selfish ole tub
+a-readin' that big paper up there. He turned his back on me when I
+hinted round him for the loan of a dollar or so."
+
+"And I'll thank you to keep a stiff tongue when you speak of that
+gentleman," said the lad, smartly, "for he's my father."
+
+"Your father!" echoed 'Tilda Jane, in astonishment.
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Did he once have blue eyes an' curly hair?"
+
+"I believe so. He's a good-looking man yet."
+
+"He's a--" began 'Tilda Jane, hurriedly, then she stopped short. "Law
+me--I'll never learn to forgive folks before the sun goes down; I'm
+gettin' wickeder an' wickeder. What's your name, sir? I'll want to
+send you this money soon's I earn some."
+
+"My name is Datus Waysmith, and my father is the biggest lumber
+merchant on the Ciscasset River."
+
+"Is he?" she said, wistfully, "an' have you got more family?"
+
+"Yes, I have a mother as pretty as a picture, and three sisters."
+
+"An' you have a nice room with a fire that ain't boxed up, an' you
+sit round, an' no other folks come in, an' no bells ring for you to
+get up and do somethin'?"
+
+"We have loads of rooms in our house," said the lad, boastfully.
+"It's the biggest one in Ciscasset. You'll soon find out where we
+live. Here we are most in--Iceboro next, then home," and he flattened
+his face against the glass.
+
+Outside in the dark night, bright lights appeared, danced over the
+snowy country, then disappeared. The train was running through the
+outskirts of a prosperous town.
+
+"Is Ciscasset a nice place?" asked 'Tilda Jane, wistfully.
+
+"Slowest old place that ever was. I'd like to live in Bangor or
+Portland. There's something going on there. We've nothing but a
+river, and mills, and trees, and hills--not a decent theatre in the
+place."
+
+'Tilda Jane did not know what a theatre was, and discreetly held her
+peace.
+
+"I say--here we are!" exclaimed the boy. "I hope mamma will have a
+good supper."
+
+A shadow overspread 'Tilda Jane's face, and seeing it, the boy said,
+impulsively, "Stop here a minute--I want to speak to papa," and he
+rushed away.
+
+The little girl sat still. They were going more slowly now, and all
+the men in the car were standing up, putting on coats and warm caps.
+She had no wrap, but her dress was thick, and hugging Gippie closer,
+she felt that she should not suffer from the cold.
+
+The boy was making an animated appeal to his father, who was asking
+him short, quick questions. At last he gave him a brief, "Very well!"
+and the boy ran back to 'Tilda Jane.
+
+"Papa says you can ride with us. I told him you had no one to meet
+you, and it would be cold comfort wandering about alone to find your
+way. He used to think a lot of Dillson, but you'd better not talk to
+him."
+
+'Tilda Jane trailed slowly after her guide through the crowd of
+people leaving the train, and passing through the lighted stone
+station to the yard outside. Here were drawn up a number of sleighs.
+The boy led her to the handsomest one.
+
+"Jump up on the box with Jenks," he said in a whisper. "Curl down
+under the rug, and I'll bring dog number two. He'll run behind, won't
+he?"
+
+"I guess so," replied 'Tilda Jane, with an equally mysterious
+whisper, and she slipped down under the soft bearskin robe.
+
+In two minutes the boy came back, leading Poacher by a small rope.
+"I'll just tie him behind," he said, "to make sure. He's all
+right--and here's papa."
+
+He stood aside, while his dignified parent got into the sleigh.
+'Tilda Jane, from her high seat, looked around once. The lumber
+merchant and his son were down in a black valley of soft, smothering
+furs, Poacher was running agreeably behind, and Gippie was snug and
+warm in her lap.
+
+No one spoke during the drive, and they glided swiftly through the
+snowy town. 'Tilda Jane had a confused vision of lighted shops
+with frosty windows, of houses with more sober illuminations, then
+suddenly they were stealing along the brink of a long and narrow
+snow-filled hollow. This was the Ciscasset River, still held by its
+winter covering. She thought she heard a murmur of "rotten ice"
+behind her as the lumber merchant addressed his son, and she was
+enough a child of the State to know that a reference to the breaking
+up of the ice in the river was intended.
+
+Presently they dashed up a long avenue of leafless, hardwood trees to
+a big house on the hill. A hall door was thrown open, and within was
+a glimpse of paradise for the homeless orphan. Softly tinted lights
+in the background illuminated and made angelically beautiful the
+white dresses and glowing faces of a lady and three little girls who
+stood on the threshold with outstretched arms.
+
+The father and son welcomed to these embraces had forgotten 'Tilda
+Jane, and as the sleigh slowly turned and went down the cold avenue,
+tears streamed silently down her cheeks.
+
+"Where am I to take you?" suddenly asked the solemn coachman beside
+her.
+
+"To Hobart Dillson's," she said, in a choking voice.
+
+Nothing more was said, she saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing
+of her immediate surroundings. She had once been taken to a circus,
+and the picture now before her mind was that of a tiger pacing back
+and forth in his cage, growling in a low monotonous tone, always
+growling, growling at a miserable child shrinking outside.
+
+"That there is Dillson's cottage, I think," said the coachman at last.
+
+'Tilda Jane roused herself. Through her blurred vision a small house
+wavered at the end of a snowy path. She wiped her eyes hastily,
+thanked the man, and, slipping from her high seat, ran behind the
+sleigh and untied Poacher.
+
+The man turned his sleigh and glided slowly out of sight. She stood
+watching him till he disappeared, then, followed by her two dogs went
+reluctantly up the path.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE FRENCH FAMILY.
+
+
+'Tilda Jane stood entranced. This was not the Dillson cottage, the
+coachman had made a mistake. She stood staring in the window, for
+this was a sight that pleased her above all other sights.
+
+Here was another family,--a happy family, evidently, all gathered
+around a cheerful fire in a good-sized living-room. There were an
+old grandfather in the corner smoking a pipe, an old woman beside
+him with a white cap on her head, a middle-aged man cleaning a gun
+by the light of a lamp on the table, a middle-aged woman knitting
+a stocking, and a cluster of children of all ages about the
+grandfather, grandmother, father and mother.
+
+Mingled with the crackling of the open fire was a very gay clatter of
+tongues speaking in some foreign language, and one boy's voice soared
+above the rest in the words of a song that 'Tilda Jane was afterward
+to learn:
+
+      "_Un Canadien errant_,
+      _Bannis de son pays_,
+      _Parconrait en pleurant_,
+      _Un pays étranger._"
+
+She gazed at them until the sense of increasing cold checked her
+rapture, and made her move regretfully toward the door and rap on it.
+
+It was immediately opened by a brown-eyed child, and held far back as
+if she were expected to enter.
+
+"Can you tell me where Mr. Hobart Dillson lives?"
+
+"_Ou-ay, ma'mzelle_," murmured the child, bashfully hanging her head.
+
+"But enter--it is cold," called the mother, rising and coming
+forward, stocking in hand.
+
+'Tilda Jane felt drawn toward this alluring family circle, and one
+minute later was sitting in a chair on its circumference.
+
+"But come in, dawgie," said the mother gently to Poacher, who stood
+hesitating on the threshold.
+
+He came in, and was greeted silently and politely by two respectable
+curs that rose from the hearth-stone for the purpose, then he lay
+down beside them, and gratefully extended his limbs to the fire.
+
+'Tilda Jane sat for a minute looking about her without speaking.
+These people were not staring at her, but they were all stealing
+occasional curious glances in her direction.
+
+"I'm lookin' for Hobart Dillson's," she said, bluntly, "but I guess
+there ain't no such person, for the nearer I get the more he seems to
+run off."
+
+The mother of the family smiled, and 'Tilda Jane gazed in admiration
+at the soft black eyes under the firm brows. "I can tell you,
+_mademoiselle_--he is near by, even nex' doah."
+
+"Oh!" murmured 'Tilda Jane, then she fell into meditation. These
+people were foreigners, poor, too, evidently, though perfectly neat
+and clean. She wondered how they got into the country.
+
+"You air emigrants?" she said, at last, inquiringly.
+
+"French," said the woman, "'Cajien French--sent from our country long
+ago. Our people went back. We returned to earn a little money. Too
+many people where we lived."
+
+"Did you come through Vanceboro?" asked 'Tilda Jane.
+
+The woman's liquid eyes appealed to her husband. He shrugged his
+shoulders, looked down the barrel of his gun, and said, "It is a long
+time ago we come. I do not know."
+
+"Mebbe they weren't so partickler," observed 'Tilda Jane.
+
+"Let um do!" came in a sepulchral voice from the fireplace.
+
+'Tilda Jane stared at the old grandfather, who had taken his pipe
+from his mouth to utter the phrase, and was now putting it back.
+
+The house-mother addressed her. "Do not fear, _mademoiselle_; it
+is the only English he knows. He means 'all right, do not anxious
+yourself, be calm, very calm.'"
+
+"Does he?" murmured 'Tilda Jane; then she added, unwillingly, "I must
+be going."
+
+"Delay youself yet a leetle," urged the woman, and her pitying eyes
+ran over the girl's drooping figure. "The children go to make corn
+hot. Marie--" and a stream of foreign syllables trickled and gurgled
+from her lips, delighting and fascinating her caller.
+
+A little maid danced from the fireplace to one of the tiny
+pigeon-hole rooms opening from the large one, and presently came back
+with a bag of corn and a popper.
+
+"And a glass of milk for _mademoiselle_," said the woman to another
+child.
+
+'Tilda Jane was presently sipping her milk, eating a piece of dark
+brown bread, and gazing dreamily at the fire. Why could she not
+linger in this pleasant home.
+
+"You know Mr. Dillson?" she said, rousing herself with an effort, and
+turning to her hostess.
+
+"But yes--we have lived nex' him for so many yeahs."
+
+"Do you think I can keep house for him?" asked 'Tilda Jane, wistfully.
+
+[Illustration: "'YOU ARE YOUNG FOR THAT, _MADEMOISELLE_, YET--'"]
+
+The woman hesitated, laid her knitting on her lap, and thoughtfully
+smoothed her tweed dress. "You are young for that, _mademoiselle_,
+yet--" and she scrutinised 'Tilda Jane's dark, composed, almost
+severe face--"if a girl could do it, I should think yes--you can. He
+is seeck, poor man. He walks not well at all. It makes him--"
+
+"Like the evil one," muttered her husband, clutching his gun more
+tightly; "if he was a crow, I would shoot."
+
+"Let um do!" came in guttural tones from grandfather's corner.
+
+The woman laughed merrily, and all anxiety faded from her face. "Hark
+to _gran'père_--it makes me feel good, so good. No one can make us
+feel bad if we feel not bad ourselves. Deelson is seeck. He is not
+hap-py. Let us not be seeck, too. Let us be hap-py. _Allons mes
+enfants, est-ce que le_--" and then followed more smooth syllables
+that 'Tilda Jane did not understand.
+
+She soon saw, however, that an order had been given to butter and
+salt the corn, and presently she was shyly but sweetly offered some
+by the French children. Even Poacher and Gippie had some kernels laid
+before them, and in the midst of her concern as to Mr. Dillson's
+behaviour, her heart swelled with gratitude to think that she should
+have such good neighbours. Here all was gentleness and peace. She
+had never seen so kind a woman, such amiable children. Did they ever
+quarrel and slap each other, she wondered.
+
+"It's getting late, ain't it?" she exclaimed at last, with
+uneasiness. "I must go," and she rose quickly.
+
+"But you can stay all night if you desiah," said the woman, motioning
+toward the pigeon-holes. "Stay, and go nex' doah in the morning."
+
+"No, no, I must not," said 'Tilda Jane very hastily, through fear
+that she might yield to so pleasant a temptation. "But can I drop in
+an' see you by spells?"
+
+"But yes, yes--certainly, come often," said the woman. "Come at any
+hour," she said under her breath, and seizing 'Tilda Jane's hand in
+her own, "if it is not agreeable there, at any time run here."
+
+"I'm 'bliged to you," said Tilda Jane, gratefully, "much 'bliged, an'
+if you want any floors scrubbed, or anythin' done, jus' you run over
+an' get me. I'll come--" and with a sturdy nod of her head, she took
+her dogs, and slipped out into the darkness.
+
+"If agreeable leave your dogs here till mornin'," called the woman
+after her.
+
+The little girl shook her head. "I guess he'd better see 'em right
+off. Good-night, an' thank you."
+
+The woman clasped her hands, and, looking up at the sky before she
+went into the house, murmured in her own language, "Holy One, guard
+her from that terrible rage!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE TIGER IN HIS LAIR.
+
+
+The next house to that of the French people was larger and more
+pretentious than theirs. It had more of a garden, there were two
+stories instead of one, and the roof was surmounted by a tiny tower.
+
+The outside of the tiger's den was highly satisfactory, and 'Tilda
+Jane smiled in weary stoical humour. Now to find the particular
+corner in which the tiger himself abode. The house was dark, except
+for one feeble glimmer of light on the ground floor. She had rapped
+at the front door, she had rapped at the back door without getting
+any response, and now she returned to the latter to see if perchance
+it had been left unfastened.
+
+It had, and lifting the latch cautiously, she went in. She knew Mr.
+Dillson was an old man, she knew he was lame, and possibly he heard
+her, but could not come to her rescue. Passing through a small porch
+where she stumbled against some heaped up pans, she turned the first
+door-knob she touched in passing her hand around the dark wall.
+
+She found herself in a kitchen. The table in the middle of the floor,
+the chairs, the dresser, were all illumined by a feeble, dying glow
+in a small cooking stove, and by the beams of a candle struggling
+through an open door.
+
+Poacher and Gippie crept after her as she proceeded slowly in
+the direction of this light. They felt that there was something
+mysterious afoot.
+
+'Tilda Jane paused at the bedroom door. Here was the lair of the
+tiger, and there was the tiger himself,--an old man with white hair,
+red eyes, and a night-cap. A candle was on a shelf by the head of the
+bed, and a pair of crutches was within reaching distance, and the old
+man was lifting his head from the pillow in astonishment.
+
+'Tilda Jane could not help laughing aloud in her relief. This was not
+a very dangerous looking person. He seemed more amazed than vexed,
+and she laughed again as she noted his clutch of the bed-clothes, and
+the queer poise of his white head.
+
+"'Scuse me, sir," she said, humbly, "for comin' this time o' night,
+but I thought you'd like me to report first thing. I hope you've
+heard from your son I was comin'?"
+
+The old man said nothing. He was still open-mouthed and dumb, but
+something in his face assured 'Tilda Jane that he had heard--he had
+received some news of her, apart from the telegram sent by Mr. Jack.
+
+"I've had lots o' speriences," she said, with a tired gesture. "I'll
+tell 'em some other time. I jus' wanted to 'nounce my 'rival, an'
+tell you I'm goin' to wait on you good--I guess I'll go to bed, if
+you'll tell me where to get a candle, an' where I'm to sleep."
+
+He would tell her nothing. He simply lay and glared at her, and by no
+means disposed to seek a quarrel with him, she made her way back to
+the kitchen, opened the stove door, and, lighting a piece of paper,
+searched the room until she found the closet where the candles were
+kept.
+
+The old man lay motionless in his bed. He heard her searching, heard
+the dogs pattering after her, and a violent perspiration broke
+out upon him. Wrath sometimes gave him unwonted fluency of speech.
+To-night it rendered him speechless. He did not wish this beggar's
+brat to wait on him. Hank had not asked his permission to send
+her--had simply announced that she was coming. He was treated as
+if he were a baby--an idiot, and this was his own house. Hank had
+nothing to do with it. He didn't care if Hank did pay her. He had
+money enough of his own to hire a housekeeper. But he didn't want
+one. He wanted to wait on himself. He hated to have women cluttering
+round, and he lay, and perspired, and inwardly raged, and obtained
+not one wink of sleep, while 'Tilda Jane, having obtained what she
+wished, peacefully composed herself to rest.
+
+First though, she calmly bade him "Good-night," told him to "holler,"
+if he wanted anything, and, calling her dogs, went off in search of a
+bed for herself.
+
+Beyond the kitchen was a front hall,--cold, dusty, and comfortless.
+Up-stairs were four rooms, two unfurnished, one having something the
+appearance of a spare room left long unoccupied, the other smelling
+of tobacco, exceedingly untidy, littered with old clothes, fishing
+rods, bats, cartridge shells, and other boyish and manly belongings.
+This must be Hank's room, probably it had been occupied later than
+the other, and the bed would not be so damp. She would sleep here,
+and she turned down the clothes.
+
+"Good land!" she murmured, "I wonder how long sence those blankets
+has been washed?" and she turned them back again, and, going to the
+other room, obtained two coverlets that she spread over herself,
+after she lay down on the outside of the bed.
+
+The dogs had already curled themselves up on a heap of clothes on the
+floor, and in a few minutes the three worn-out travellers were fast
+asleep.
+
+When 'Tilda Jane lifted her head from her very shady pillow the next
+morning, her ears were saluted by the gentle patter of rain. The
+atmosphere was milder--a thaw had set in.
+
+She sprang up, and went to the dogs, who were still snoring in their
+corner. "Wake up," she said, touching them with her foot. Gippie
+started, but something in the expression of Poacher's eloquent eyes
+told her that, although he had been apparently sound asleep, he knew
+perfectly well what was going on about him.
+
+"Let's go and see Mr. Dillson," she exclaimed, and picking up Gippie,
+she ran down-stairs with Poacher at her heels.
+
+"It ain't cold--it's just pleasant," she muttered, turning the key
+with difficulty in the front door, and throwing it open.
+
+"Oh, my, how pretty!" and she clasped her hands in delight. Across
+the road was the deep hollow of the river. She was in one of a line
+of cottages following its bank, and across the river were fields and
+hills, now a soft, hazy picture in the rain. But the sun would shine,
+fine days would come--what an ideal place for a home! and her heart
+swelled with thankfulness, and she forgot the cross old man in the
+room behind her.
+
+The cross old man would have given the world to have turned her out
+of his house at that very minute, but his night of sleeplessness and
+raging temper had given him a fierce headache, a bad taste in his
+mouth, and such a helplessness of limbs that he could not turn in bed.
+
+'Tilda Jane fortunately did not know that if he could have commanded
+his tongue he would have ordered her into the street, but she saw
+that there was something wrong with him, and as she stood in his
+doorway, she said, pityingly, "I guess you're sick; I'll make you
+some breakfast," and she vanished in the direction of the wood-shed.
+
+He heard her chopping sticks, he heard the brisk snapping of the fire
+and the singing of the teakettle. He heard her breaking eggs--two
+eggs when he never cooked more than one at a time! He opened his
+mouth to protest, but only gave utterance to a low roar that brought
+Poacher, who happened to be the only one in the kitchen, into his
+room to stare gravely and curiously at him.
+
+She made an omelet, she toasted bread, she steeped him a cup of
+tea--this slip of a girl. She had evidently been taught to cook, but
+he hated her none the less as she brought in a tray and set it beside
+his bed.
+
+He would not touch the food, and he gave her a look from his angry
+eyes that sent her speedily from the room, and made her close the
+door behind her.
+
+"I guess he'd like to gimme a crack with them crutches," she
+reflected, soberly, "I'd better keep out of his way till he's over
+it. Reminds me o' the matron's little spells."
+
+If she had been a petted darling from some loving home, she would
+have fled from the cottage in dismay. As it was, although she
+suffered, it was not with the keenness of despair. All her life she
+had been on the defensive. Some one had always found fault with her,
+some one was always ready to punish her. Unstinted kindness would
+have melted her, but anger always increased her natural obstinacy.
+She had been sent here to take care of this old man, and she was
+going to do it. She was too unconventional, and too ignorant, to
+reflect that her protective attitude would have been better changed
+for a suppliant one in entering the old man's domain.
+
+However, if she had meekly begged the privilege of taking care of
+him, he would have sent her away, and as she was given neither
+to hair-splitting nor introspection, but rather to the practical
+concerns of life, she calmly proceeded with her task of tidying the
+house without reference to future possibilities.
+
+The kitchen was the first place to be attacked, and she carefully
+examined the stove. It smoked a little. It needed cleaning, and
+girding on some old aprons she found in the porch, she let the fire
+go out, and then brushed, and rubbed, and poked at the stove until
+it was almost as clean outside as it was inside. Her next proceeding
+was to take everything off the walls, and wipe them down with a
+cloth-bedraped broom. Then she moved all the dishes off the dresser,
+washed the chairs, and scrubbed the floor.
+
+Then, and not until then, did she reopen the door into the old man's
+room. Now he could see what a clean kitchen she had, and how merrily
+the fire was burning in the stove. It was also twelve o'clock, and
+she must look about for something more to eat.
+
+Mr. Dillson had not touched his breakfast, so she ate it herself,
+made him fresh toast, a cup of tea, and a tiny meat hash, then went
+up-stairs to tidy her bedroom.
+
+The hash was well-seasoned, and the odour of onions greeted the old
+man's nostrils tantalisingly. He was really hungry now. His wrath had
+burned down for lack of fuel, and some power had come back to his
+limbs. He ate his dinner, got out of bed, dressed himself, and limped
+out to the kitchen.
+
+When he had dropped in his big rocking-chair, he gazed around the
+room. The girl had done more in one morning than all the women he had
+ever employed had done in three. Perhaps it would be economy to keep
+her. He was certainly growing more feeble, and a tear of self-pity
+stood in his eye.
+
+There she was now, coming from the French-woman's house. She had been
+over there to borrow sheets, and a flash of impotent rage swept over
+him. He tried to have no dealings with those foreigners. He hated
+them, and they hated him. This girl must go, he could not stand her.
+
+The back of his rocking-chair was padded, and before he realised what
+was happening, his state of fuming passed into one of sleepiness,--he
+was off, soundly and unmistakably announcing in plain terms, through
+throat and nose, to the world of the kitchen, that he was making up
+for time lost last night.
+
+When he opened his eyes, it was late afternoon, and 'Tilda Jane,
+sitting at a safe distance from him, was knitting an unfinished sock
+of his, left by his dead wife some ten years ago.
+
+He blinked at her in non-committal silence. She gave him one shrewd
+glance, with her toe pushed Gippie's recumbent body nearer her own
+chair, and went on with her work. If he wanted to hear her talk, he
+could ask questions.
+
+The afternoon wore away and evening came. When it grew quite dark
+'Tilda Jane got up, lighted a lamp, put on the teakettle, and with
+the slender materials at hand prepared a meal that she set before the
+uncommunicative old man.
+
+He ate it, rolling his eyes around the clean kitchen meanwhile, but
+not saying a word.
+
+'Tilda Jane kept at a safe distance from him until he had finished
+and had limped into bed. She then approached the table and ate a few
+morsels herself, muttering as she did so, "I ain't hungry, but I
+mus' eat enough to help me square up to that poor ole crossy."
+
+She was, however, too tired to enjoy her supper, and soon leaving it,
+she washed her dishes and went up-stairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE TIGER MAKES A SPRING.
+
+
+The situation would have been absurd if it had not been painful. The
+next morning the old man was still in the same mood, angry at the
+girl's invasion of his premises, and yet so appreciative of the value
+of her energetic ways that he did not insist on her departure. And so
+day after day, for a whole week, 'Tilda Jane lived on, keeping house
+for the old man, but saying not one word to him.
+
+He would not speak to her, and she would not begin a conversation
+with him. She prepared his meals from food that the storekeeper and
+butcher readily gave her on the old man's account, and exercised her
+tongue by talking to her dogs.
+
+Occasionally she called on her French neighbours, the Melançons, and
+from them gleaned various items of information about the eccentric
+Mr. Dillson, without, however, allowing them to know that he would
+not speak to her. This secret she proudly kept to herself. She found
+out from them that the old man was ordinarily in better health than
+at present,--that he was usually able to hobble about the house and
+wait on himself, for his temper had of late become so violent that no
+woman in Ciscasset would enter his house to work for him. Therefore,
+'Tilda Jane's arrival had been most opportune, for he would have been
+in danger of starving to death if left to himself.
+
+Feeling persuaded of this, and greatly pleased to think that she had
+been and was of service to the father of her benefactor Hank, her
+attitude toward the old man continued to be one of philosophical
+and good-natured obstinacy. She would not speak to him, but she was
+willing to wait on him in silence, looking forward to the time when
+he would find his tongue.
+
+Her only fear of his sullenness was on behalf of her dogs. He hated
+them--she knew it by the menacing tremble of his crutches whenever
+the animals came within his reach. Therefore, her constant endeavour
+was to keep them out of his way. She had made two soft, persuasive
+beds in the wood-shed for them; but it was cold there, and she could
+not stay with them. They loved her with all the strength of their
+doggish hearts, and wished to be with her every minute of the time.
+
+Often at night she would start up in bed from troubled dreams of
+a fierce old figure mounting the staircase, crutch in hand. There
+was no lock on her bedroom door, and if the old man had a sudden
+accession of strength, he could easily push aside the barrier of a
+wash-stand and two chairs that she put across this door before she
+went to bed.
+
+She wished that Hank would come home. He might persuade his peculiar
+parent to end this unnatural silence, and give her a chance to become
+acquainted with him.
+
+"Mebbe he'll soon come, Poacher," she whispered in the ear of the dog
+who was sitting close beside her. "We'll make up our minds for that,
+won't we?"
+
+The dog was sitting up very straight beside her, and gazing
+benevolently down at Gippie, who lay on her lap. They were all out
+on the front door-step, and 'Tilda Jane was knitting industriously.
+It was a day like May in the month of March--there was a soft, mild
+air and a warm sun that made dripping eaves and melting snow-banks.
+Little streams of water were running from the garden to the road, and
+from the road to the hollow of the river, where large cakes of ice
+were slowly loosening themselves, breaking up and floating toward the
+sea. Spring was coming, and 'Tilda Jane, despite the incorrigible
+sulkiness of the person with whom she was living, felt it good to
+have a home.
+
+"We'll have lots o' sport by an' by runnin' in the fields, Poacher,"
+she whispered, lovingly, in his ear, "you ole comfort--always so
+sweet, an' good, an' never sassing back. You jus' creep away when you
+see some one comin' and don't say a word, do you? You're a sample to
+me; I wish I was like you. An' you never want to be bad, do you, an'
+chase back to the woods?"
+
+The dog abandoned his stately attitude, and gave his tongue a quick
+fillip in the direction of her forehead. No--thanks to her intense
+devotion to him, he had no time for mournful reflections on the past.
+
+"But I guess you'd like to see your master sometimes," she murmured.
+"I see a hankerin' in your eyes now an' agin, ole feller, an' then I
+jus' talk to you hard. You darlin'!" and throwing her arm around his
+neck, she squeezed him heartily.
+
+He was boldly reciprocating, by licking her little, straight,
+determined nose, when there was a clicking sound around the corner of
+the house.
+
+'Tilda Jane released him and raised her head. The old man was
+approaching, leaning heavily on his crutches. The beauty of the day
+had penetrated and animated even his ancient bones. 'Tilda Jane
+was delighted to see him moving about, but, giving no sign of her
+satisfaction, she rose and prepared to enter the house. He did not
+approve of having the front door unlocked, he did not approve of her
+habit of dodging out-of-doors whenever she had no work to do inside.
+She felt this, although he had never said it, and pushing Gippie into
+the hall, she stepped down the walk to pick up her ball of yarn.
+
+The dog's enemy was some distance away, and seeing him leaning so
+heavily on his crutches, it did not occur to her that there could be
+any fear of danger. However, with all her acuteness, she did not
+measure the depth of his animosity, nor the agility with which it
+could inspire him.
+
+With a deftness and lightness that would have been admirable if it
+had not been cruel, the old man bore all his weight on one crutch,
+swung the other around in the air, and with the heavy end struck a
+swift, sure blow on Poacher's glossy black forehead.
+
+It was all done in the twinkling of an eye--in the short space of
+time that the little girl's back was turned. She heard the crashing
+blow, flashed around, and saw the black body of the dog extended on
+a white snow-bank. His eyes were open, his expression was still the
+loving one with which he had been regarding her as she stooped to
+pick up the ball.
+
+For an instant 'Tilda Jane felt no emotion but wonder. She stood
+stock-still, staring alternately at the old man and at the motionless
+body of the dog. It had occurred to her that he would kill one of
+her pets if he had a chance, but now that he had done it, the thing
+seemed unreal, almost absurd. Surely she was dreaming--that was not
+Poacher lying there dead.
+
+She went up to the dog, touched him with soft, amazed fingers, lifted
+the velvet ears, and put her hands on his forehead. There was the
+slightest ruffling of the smooth skin where the crutch had struck him.
+
+The old man stood and watched her for a few seconds, his face a
+trifle redder than usual, but giving no other sign of emotion. He
+watched her until she lifted her head and looked at him, then he
+turned hastily and limped to the back door.
+
+It was an awful look to see on the face of a child,--an avenging,
+unforgiving, hateful look,--the look of a grown person in cold,
+profound wrath. He did not regret killing the dog, he would like to
+dispose of the other one, but he did object to those murderous eyes.
+She was capable of killing him. He must get rid of her, and make his
+peace with some of the Ciscasset witches, in order that they might
+come and wait on him.
+
+He went thoughtfully into the house and sat down in his usual corner
+beyond the kitchen stove. He wondered whether she would give him
+any supper. He could get it himself to-night if she did not. He was
+certainly better, and a glow of pleasure made his blood feel warm in
+his veins.
+
+Stay--there she was, coming slowly in--he thanked his lucky stars,
+looking very much the same as usual. He would not be slain in his
+bed that night. And she was getting fresh wood for the fire. Perhaps
+she would make hot cakes for supper. She was wonderfully smart for a
+girl. He had several times speculated as to her age. Sometimes when
+talking to the dogs she seemed no more than eleven or twelve years
+old. Ordinarily she appeared to him about fifteen, but small for
+the age. To-day in her wrath, she might be taken for seventeen. How
+subdued she seemed as she moved about the kitchen. He had done a good
+thing to strike down one of those animals. She would not have such an
+independent air now.
+
+She built up the fire, set the teakettle on the back of the stove--he
+wondered why she did not put it on the front, and why she gradually
+piled on sticks of wood until there was a roaring blaze that caused
+him some slight uneasiness. Was she going to set the chimney on fire?
+
+No, she was not; when there was a bed of fiery red coals, she took
+up her tiny padded holder, lifted off one of the stove covers, then,
+to his surprise, went into the corner behind him, where he kept his
+crutches.
+
+What was she going to do? and he uneasily turned his head.
+
+She had both his crutches in her hand--his polished wooden crutches
+with the gold plate inscription. Years ago, when he resigned his
+position as bookkeeper at Waysmith and Son's big mill, a gold-headed
+cane had been presented to him, on which was engraved a flattering
+inscription. Nothing that had ever been given to him in his life had
+tickled his vanity as this present from the rich and prosperous firm
+had done.
+
+When he had been obliged to put away the cane on account of his
+increasing bodily infirmities, he had had the gold plate inscription
+transferred to his crutches where he could see it all the time,
+and have others see it. Now--what was she going to do with those
+crutches?
+
+[Illustration: "HE LIFTED UP HIS VOICE AND ROARED AT HER."]
+
+He opened his mouth, and for the first time addressed her. "Put those
+crutches down."
+
+She paid less attention to him than she did to the crackling of the
+fire. Walking behind his chair, and making a wide circle to avoid his
+outstretched arms, she went to the other side of the stove and--
+
+He lifted up his voice and roared at her. She was sticking the legs
+of his crutches down in that fiery furnace.
+
+He roared again, but she did not even raise her head. She was holding
+the crutches down, stuffing them in, burning them off inch by
+inch--very quietly, very deliberately, but very surely. She was not
+thinking of him, she was thinking of the dead dog out on the snow.
+
+He kept quiet for a few seconds, then he began to bellow for mercy.
+She was burning up to the cross-bar handles, she would soon reach
+that gold-plate inscription, and now for the first time he knew what
+those eulogistic words were to him--he, a man who had had the temper
+of a maniac that had cut him off from the sympathy of every human
+being he knew.
+
+Tears ran down his cheeks--in incoherent words he stammered an
+apology for killing her dog, and then she relented.
+
+Throwing the charred and smoking tops to him, she shut up the stove,
+took her hat and tippet from a peg in the wall, and clasping Gippie
+to her, left the house without one glance at the old man as he sat in
+the smoky atmosphere mumbling to himself, and fumbling over the burnt
+pieces of wood as tenderly as if they had been babies.
+
+She had conquered him, but without caring for her conquest she left
+him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+IN SEARCH OF A PERFECT MAN.
+
+
+Ciscasset, perhaps most beautiful of Maine towns near the Canadian
+border, was particularly beautiful on the morning after 'Tilda Jane's
+departure from Hobart Dillson's cottage. The sun was still shining
+fervently--so fervently that men threw open their top-coats or
+carried them on their arms; the sky was still of the delicate pink
+and blue haze of the day before, the wind was a breath of spring
+blown at departing winter.
+
+It was still early, and beautiful Ciscasset was not yet really astir.
+Few women were to be seen on the streets,--only a score of shop-girls
+hurrying to their work,--but men abounded. Clerks were going to their
+desks and counters, and early rising business men to their offices.
+Market-men swarmed in from the country in order to be the first to
+sell their produce in the prosperous little town with the Indian
+name.
+
+Other towns and villages might direct their search across the sea
+for European titles for streets and homes. Ciscasset prided itself
+on being American and original. The Indian names were native to the
+State, and with scarcely an exception prevailed in the nomenclature
+of the town. Therefore the--in other places Main Street--was here
+Kennebago Street, and down this street a group of farmers was
+slowly proceeding. They had sold their farm produce to grocers and
+stable-keepers, and were now going to the post-office for their mail.
+
+Assembled a few moments later in a corner of the gray stone building,
+and diligently reading letters and papers, they did not see a small
+figure approaching, and only looked up when a grave voice inquired,
+"Air you too busy to speak to me a minute?"
+
+The men all stared at the young girl with the dog in her arms, the
+heavy circles around her eyes, and the two red spots on her cheeks.
+
+"What do you want?" asked the oldest farmer, a gray-haired man in a
+rabbit-skin cap.
+
+"I want to find the best minister in this place."
+
+A smile went around the circle of farmers. They were all amused,
+except the gray-haired one. He was nearest to 'Tilda Jane, and felt
+the intense gravity of her manner.
+
+"In the town, I mean," she went on, wearily. "I want to ask him
+something. I thought they'd know in the post-office, but when I asked
+behind them boxes," and she nodded toward the wall near them, "they
+told me to get out--they was busy."
+
+The old farmer was silent for a moment. Then he said, gruffly, "You
+look beat out, young girl, like as if you'd been out all night."
+
+"I was," she said, simply, "I've been pacin' the streets waitin' for
+the mornin'."
+
+The attitude of the younger men was half reproachful, half disturbed.
+They always brought with them to the town an uneasy consciousness
+that they might in some way be fooled, and 'Tilda Jane's air was
+very precocious, very citified, compared with their air of rustic
+coltishness. They did not dream that she was country-bred like
+themselves.
+
+The older man was thinking. He was nearer the red spots and the
+grieving eyes than the others. The child was in trouble.
+
+"Bill," he said, slowly, "what's the name o' that man that holds
+forth in Molunkus Street Church?"
+
+His son informed him that he did not know.
+
+"How d'ye do, Mr. Price," said the farmer, leaving the young farmers,
+and sauntering across to the other side of the post-office, where
+a brisk-looking man was ripping open letters. "Can you give us the
+name of the preacher that wags his tongue in the church on Molunkus
+Street?"
+
+"Burness," said Mr. Price, raising his head, and letting his snapping
+eyes run beyond the farmer to the flock of young men huddling
+together like gray sheep.
+
+"Would you call him the best man in Ciscasset?" pursued the farmer,
+with a wave of his hand toward 'Tilda Jane.
+
+Mr. Price's snapping eyes had already taken her in. "What do you mean
+by best?" he asked, coolly.
+
+"I mean a man as always does what is right," said 'Tilda Jane, when
+the question was left for her to answer.
+
+"Don't go to Burness, then," said Mr. Price, rapidly. "Good
+preacher--poor practiser."
+
+"Ain't there any good practisers in Ciscasset?" asked the farmer,
+dryly.
+
+"Well--I know some pretty fair ones," responded Mr. Price. "I don't
+know of one perfect person in the length and breadth of the town. But
+I know two people, though, who come near enough to perfection for
+your job, I guess," and his brilliant glance rested on 'Tilda Jane.
+
+"Who be they?" asked the farmer, curiously.
+
+"Is it this young girl that wants 'em?" asked Mr. Price.
+
+"Yes, sir," said the farmer, "it is."
+
+"Then I'll tell her," said his quicksilver friend, and he flashed to
+'Tilda Jane's side. "Go up Wallastook Street to Allaguash Street. Ask
+for Reverend Mr. Tracy's house. Any one'll tell you--understand?"
+
+"Yes, sir--thank you; and thank _you_, too," and with a grateful
+gesture toward the farmer, she was gone.
+
+The farmer gazed after her. "I hate to see a young one in trouble.
+Someone's been imposin' on her."
+
+Mr. Price felt sympathetic, but he said nothing.
+
+"Who'd you send her to?" inquired the farmer. "I'd give a barrel of
+apples to know."
+
+"To me?" inquired Mr. Price, smartly.
+
+The farmer laughed. "Yes, sir--I'd do it. You've put me in the way of
+business before now."
+
+"I sent her to a man," replied Mr. Price, "who might be in Boston
+to-day if he wanted to. He gave up a big church to come here. He's
+always inveighing against luxury and selfishness and the other crowd
+of vices. He and his wife have stacks of money, but they give it
+away, and never do the peacock act. They're about as good as they
+make 'em. It isn't their talking I care about--not one rap. It's the
+carrying out of their talk, and not going back on it."
+
+"My daughter wants to go out as hired help. I guess that would be
+an A number one place, if they'd have her," observed the father,
+meditatively. "Good enough," said Mr. Price, "if you want her to
+ruin her earthly prospects, and better her heavenly ones," and he
+went away laughing.
+
+The farmer stepped to the post-office door. 'Tilda Jane was toiling
+up the sidewalk with downcast head. The shop windows had no
+attractions for her, nor was she throwing a single glance at the line
+of vehicles now passing along the street; and muttering, "Poor young
+one!" the farmer returned to his correspondence.
+
+The Reverend Mr. Tracy was having his breakfast in the big yellow
+house set up on terraces, which were green in summer and white in
+winter. The house was large, because it was meant to shelter other
+people beside the Tracys and their children, but there was not a
+stick of "genteel" furniture in it, the new housemaid from Portland
+was just disdainfully observing to the cook.
+
+"You'll get over that soon," remarked the cook, with a laugh and a
+toss of her head, "and will be for givin' away what we've got an'
+sittin' on the floor. There's the door-bell. You'd better go answer
+it; it's time the beggars was arrivin'."
+
+Mr. Tracy was late with his breakfast this morning, because he had
+been out half the night before with a drunken young man who had
+showed an unconquerable aversion to returning home. Now as he ate his
+chop and drank his hot milk, fed a parrot by his side, and talked to
+his wife, who kept moving about the room, he thought of this young
+man, until he caught the sound of voices in the hall.
+
+"Bessie," he said, quietly, "there's your new maid turning some one
+away."
+
+His wife stepped into the hall. The housemaid was indeed assuring a
+poor-looking child that the master of the house was at breakfast and
+could not see any one.
+
+"Then I'll wait," Mrs. Tracy heard in a dogged young voice. The front
+door closed as she hurried forward, but she quickly opened it. There
+on the top step sat a small girl holding a dog.
+
+"Good morning," she said, kindly; "do you want something?"
+
+"I want to see the Reverend Tracy," responded the little girl, and
+the clergyman's wife, used to sorrowful faces, felt her heart ache as
+this most sorrowful one was upturned to her.
+
+"Come in," she went on, and 'Tilda Jane found herself speedily
+walking through a wide but bare hall to a sunny dining-room. She
+paused on the threshold. That small, dark man must be the minister.
+He was no nearer beauty than she was, but he had a good face,
+and--let her rejoice for this--he was fond of animals, for on the
+hearth lay a cat and a dog asleep side by side, in the long windows
+hung canaries in cages, and on a luxuriant and beautiful rose-bush,
+growing in a big pot drawn up to the table, sat a green and very
+self-possessed parrot. She was not screeching, she was not tearing at
+the leaves, she sat meekly and thankfully receiving from time to time
+such morsels as her master chose to hand her.
+
+The little, dark, quiet man barely turned as she entered, but his one
+quick glance told him more than hours of conversation from 'Tilda
+Jane would have revealed. He did not get up, he did not shake hands
+with her, he merely nodded and uttered a brief "Good-morning."
+
+"Won't you sit here?" said Mrs. Tracy, bustling to the fireplace, and
+disturbing the cat and the dog in order to draw up a chair.
+
+"I think our young caller will have some breakfast with me," said the
+minister, without raising his eyes, and stretching out his hand he
+pushed a chair beyond the rose-bush, and by a gesture invited 'Tilda
+Jane to sit in it.
+
+She seated herself, crowded Gippie on her lap under the table, and
+mechanically put to her mouth the cup of steaming milk that seemed
+to glide to her hand. She was nearly fainting. A few minutes more,
+and she would have fallen to the floor. The minister did not speak
+to her. He went calmly on with his breakfast, and a warning finger
+uplifted kept his wife from making remarks. He talked a good deal to
+the parrot, and occasionally to himself, and not until 'Tilda Jane
+had finished the milk and eaten some bread and butter did any one
+address her.
+
+Then the minister spoke to the bird. "Say good morning to the little
+girl, Lulu."
+
+"Good morning," remarked the parrot, in a voice of grating amiability.
+
+"Say 'It's a pretty world,' Lulu," continued her owner.
+
+"It's a pretty world, darlin'," responded the parrot, bursting into
+hoarse, unmusical laughter at her own addition. "Oh, it's a pretty
+world--a pretty world!"
+
+To the gentleman and his wife there was something cynical and
+afflicting in the bird's comment on mundane affairs, and they
+surreptitiously examined their visitor. Did she feel this?
+
+She did--poor girl, she had been passing through some bitter
+experience. There was the haunting, injured look of wounded childhood
+on her face, and her curled lip showed that she, too, young as she
+was, had found that all was not good in the world, all was not
+beautiful.
+
+The parrot was singing now:
+
+      "'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam,
+      Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
+      Home, home, sweet, s-we-e-e-t ho-o-o-me,"
+
+but at this point she overbalanced herself. Her uplifted claw swung
+over and she fell backward among the rose-branches.
+
+The bird's rueful expression as she fell, her ridiculous one as she
+gathered herself up, and with a surprised "Oh, dear!" climbed back to
+her perch, were so overcoming that the minister and his wife burst
+into hearty laughter.
+
+'Tilda Jane did not join them. She looked interested, and a very
+faint crease of amusement came in a little fold about her lips, but
+at once faded away.
+
+The minister got up and went to the fire, and taking out his watch
+earnestly consulted its face, then addressed his wife.
+
+"I have a ministers' meeting in half an hour. Can you go down-town
+with me?"
+
+"Yes, dear," replied Mrs. Tracy, and she glanced expectantly toward
+'Tilda Jane.
+
+The little girl started. "Can I ask you a question or so afore you
+go?" she asked, hurriedly.
+
+"No, my dear," said the man, with a fatherly air. "Not until I come
+back."
+
+"I guess some one's told you about me," remarked 'Tilda Jane,
+bitterly.
+
+"I never heard of you, or saw you before a quarter of an hour ago,"
+he replied, kindly. "Do you see that sofa?" and he drew aside a
+curtain. "You lie down there and rest, and in two hours we shall
+return. Come, Bessie--" and with his wife he left the room.
+
+'Tilda Jane was confounded, and her first idea was of capture. She
+was trapped at last, and would be sent back to the asylum--then a
+wave of different feeling swept over her. She would trust those two
+people anywhere, and they liked her. She could tell it by their looks
+and actions. She sighed heavily, almost staggered to the sofa, and
+throwing herself down, was in two minutes sleeping the sleep of utter
+exhaustion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+SWEET AND SOFT REPENTANCE.
+
+
+She was awakened by a hoarse whisper in her ear: "Get up and go on,
+get up and go on. Don't croak, don't croak!"
+
+Her eyelids felt as heavy as lead, it seemed as if she would rather
+die than stir her sluggish limbs, yet she moved slightly as the rough
+whisper went on, "Get up and go on, get up and go on. Don't croak,
+don't croak!"
+
+It was the parrot with the cold in her throat, and she was perched on
+the sofa cushion by her head. 'Tilda Jane raised herself on one hand.
+How weary, how unspeakably weary she was! If she could only lie down
+again--and what was the matter with her? Why had she waked with that
+terrible feeling of unhappiness?
+
+She remembered now--Poacher was gone. She had not shed a tear over
+him before, but now she hid her face in her hands, and indulged in
+low and heart-broken lamentation. Poor Poacher--dear, handsome dog!
+She would never see him again. What would the Lucases say if they
+knew of his untimely end? What should she do without him? and she
+cried miserably, until the sound of voices in the next room recalled
+her to herself.
+
+She was in the minister's house, and she must get her business
+over with, and be gone. So choking back her emotion, she wiped her
+face, smoothed her dress, and, followed by Gippie, stepped into the
+dining-room.
+
+The minister was seated by the fire reading to his wife. He got up
+when he saw 'Tilda Jane, gave her a chair, then went on with his
+book. After some time he laid it down. His caller was composed now,
+and something told him that she was ready to consult him.
+
+He smiled a beautiful, gentle smile at her, and thus encouraged, she
+swallowed the lump in her throat and began:
+
+"I'm 'bliged to you, sir, for lettin' me sleep an' givin' me some
+breakfus, an' can I tell you somethin' 'bout myself? I'm all kind o'
+scatter-wise."
+
+"And you wish some one to straighten you out?" he asked, benevolently.
+
+"Yes, sir--an' I thought the best person would be a minister--they
+said you was the best here."
+
+Mrs. Tracy smiled in a gratified fashion, while 'Tilda Jane went
+earnestly on, "I'm all mixy-maxy, an' I feel as if I hadn't started
+right. I guess I'll tell you jus' where I come from--I s'pose you
+know the Middle Marsden Orphan 'Sylum?"
+
+The minister told her that he had heard of it. He did not tell her
+that he had heard it was one of the few badly managed institutions
+for orphans in the State, that the children were kept strictly, fed
+poorly, and were rapidly "institutionalised" while under the care of
+uneducated, ignorant women, who were only partially supervised by a
+vacillating board of lady managers.
+
+"Well, I was riz there," continued 'Tilda Jane, "rizzed mostly in
+trouble, but still I was riz, an' the ladies paid for me, an' I
+didn't take that into 'count when I run away."
+
+"So you ran away," he said, encouragingly.
+
+"Yes, sir, 'count o' this dog, I said," and she pointed to Gippie,
+"but I guess inside o' me, 'twas as much for myself. I didn't like
+the 'sylum, I wanted to run away, even when there was no talk o' the
+dog, an' I'll tell you what happened," and while the minister and his
+wife courteously listened, she gave a full and entire account of her
+wanderings during the time that she had been absent from the asylum.
+She told them of Hank Dillson, of her sojourn at Vanceboro, and her
+experience with the Lucases, and finally her story brought her down
+to the events of the day before.
+
+"When that ole man keeled over my dog," she said, brokenly, "that
+dog as had saved my life, I wanted murder. I wished something would
+strike him dead. But he didn't fall dead, an' then I thought it was
+time for me to chip in an' do somethin'. I took them crutches as he
+can't move without, an' I burnt 'em most up--all but a little bit at
+the top with the gold writin', 'cause he sits an' gazes at it, an' I
+guess sets store by it."
+
+"You burnt Hobart Dillson's crutches!" exclaimed Mrs. Tracy, in
+surprise.
+
+"Yes, ma'am--'cause he'd killed my dog."
+
+"I wonder he had not struck you down," said the lady, with a shudder.
+"He is said to be a man with a very violent temper."
+
+'Tilda Jane sprang up, her face as white as a sheet. "I mos' forgot.
+I s'pose he's sittin' there this minute. He can't move without 'em,
+an' nobody'll go near him. Now, sir,"--and she turned in desperate
+haste to the little, dark, silent man,--"tell me quick what I ought
+to do."
+
+"You are a child with a conscience," he said, gravely; "you have been
+turning the matter over in your own mind. What conclusion have you
+reached?"
+
+"Go on," said the parrot, hoarsely, and between intervals of climbing
+by means of bill and claw to the top of a chair, "go on, and don't
+croak. Don't cr-r-r-r-oak!"
+
+[Illustration: "'I'VE LED ANOTHER DOG ASTRAY, AN' NOW HE'S DEAD!'"]
+
+'Tilda Jane turned her solemn face toward the bird. "Walkin' to an'
+fro las' night, a verse o' Scripter kep' comin' to me, 'Children,
+obey your parents in the Lord--' Now, I ain't got any parents, but
+I had lady-boards. I oughtn't to 'a' run away. I ought to have give
+up the dog, an' trusted. I ought to 'a' begged them to get me a home.
+I ought to 'a' been a better girl. Then I might 'a' been 'dopted.
+Ever sence I've run away, there's been trouble--trouble, trouble,
+nothin' but trouble. I've led another dog astray, an' now he's dead!"
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Tracy exchanged a pitying glance. The child was
+intensely in earnest. Her black eyes were bent absently on the parrot
+who had fallen prey to an immense curiosity with regard to Gippie,
+and having surveyed him from the back of the chair and the mantel,
+and finding him harmless, was now walking cautiously around him as
+he lay on the hearth-rug. Presently, emboldened by his silence, she
+took the end of his tail in her beak. He did not move, and she gently
+pinched it.
+
+There was a squeal, a rush, and a discomfited parrot minus three tail
+feathers flying to her master's shoulder.
+
+"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, "my, my! What a fuss--what a fuss!"
+
+Very little attention was paid her. Her master and mistress
+were taken up with the youthful owner of the dog, but Mr. Tracy
+mechanically stroked the bird as he put another question to 'Tilda
+Jane.
+
+"And what do you propose to do?"
+
+"I think I ought to go back," she said, earnestly. "I ought to say
+I'm sorry. I ought to say I'll do better."
+
+"Go back--where?" asked Mrs. Tracy, eagerly.
+
+"First to the ole man. I ought to be civil to him. I ought to talk,
+an' not be mum like an oyster. I ought to ask him if he wants me to
+go 'way. I ought to write the lady-boards an' tell 'em where I be. I
+ought to say I'll go back."
+
+"Do you wish to go back?" asked Mr. Tracy.
+
+A shiver passed over 'Tilda Jane's slight frame, but she spoke up
+bravely. "I ain't a-goin' to think o' that, sir. I've got to do
+what's right."
+
+"And what about your dog?"
+
+"Oh, Gippie ain't in it at all," she said, with animation. "He don't
+need to go. I guess I'll find some nice home for him with somebody
+as likes animiles," and a shrewd and melancholy smile hovered about
+her tense lips as she gazed at her host and hostess.
+
+"Poor little girl," said Mrs. Tracy, sympathetically; "we will take
+your dog and you, too. You shall not go back--you shall live with us."
+
+As she spoke, her big blue eyes filled with tears, and she laid a
+caressing hand on 'Tilda Jane's shoulder.
+
+"Please don't do that, ma'am," said the little girl, vehemently, and
+slipping her shoulder from under the embracing hand. "Please don't do
+anything homey to me. Treat me as if I was a real orphan."
+
+"A real orphan," repeated Mrs. Tracy, in slight bewilderment.
+
+"Oh, I want a home," cried the little girl, clenching her hands, and
+raising her face to the ceiling. "I want some one to talk to me as
+if I had blue eyes and curly hair. I want a little rocking-chair an'
+a fire. I don't want to mind bells, an' run with a crowd o' orphans,
+but it ain't the will o' Providence. I've got to give up," and her
+hands sank to her sides, and her head fell on her breast.
+
+Mrs. Tracy bit her lip, and pressed her hands together.
+
+"Will you stay to dinner with us, my dear?" said Mr. Tracy,
+softly. "I will take you into my study where there is a fire and a
+rocking-chair, and you shall see some curiosities that I picked up in
+Palestine."
+
+"Oh, no, sir, I must go," and she again became animated. "That ole
+man--I mus' see him. Tell me, sir, jus' what I am to do. I've been
+doin' all the talkin', an' I wanted to hear you. I guess I'm crazy,"
+and she pressed her hands nervously over her ears.
+
+She was in a strange state of nervous exaltation that was the natural
+reaction from her terrible dejection of the evening before. She had
+decided to make a martyr of herself--a willing martyr, and Mr. Tracy
+would not detain her.
+
+"Go back to Mr. Dillson's, my dear; you have mapped out your own
+course. I do not need to advise you. Your conscience has spoken, and
+you are listening to its voice. Go, and God bless you. You shall
+hear from us."
+
+'Tilda Jane was about to rush away, but Mrs. Tracy detained her.
+"Wait an instant. I have something for you," and she hurried from the
+room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+WAITING.
+
+
+Mr. Dillson had not passed a pleasant night. In the first place
+he had not been able to move for a long time after 'Tilda Jane's
+departure. For half an hour he had sat, hoping that she would return,
+or that some one would call on some errand. Without his crutches he
+was helpless.
+
+Strange to say, he was not in a rage with her. Indeed, he had never
+felt more kindly disposed toward her, and he certainly had never so
+longed for a sight of her little thin, ungraceful figure. Just at the
+moment of the burning of the crutches he could have felled her to the
+earth, but after it was an accomplished fact his lack of resentment
+was a marvel even to himself. Possibly it was because she had saved
+the gold plate. Possibly--as minute after minute went by--it was
+because a peculiar fear drove all vengeance from his mind.
+
+He had not liked the look in her eyes when she went out. Suppose she
+should make way with herself? Suppose she should jump into a hole in
+the ice, or throw herself in front of a locomotive, or do any other
+of the foolish things that desperate and maddened people were in the
+habit of doing? What would then be his position? Not an enviable one,
+by any means. He was partly--not wholly, for he had some shreds of
+vanity left--aware of his neighbours' opinion respecting himself.
+There was an ugly word they might connect with his name--and he
+glowered over the fire, and felt sufficiently uncomfortable until a
+strange and marvellous thing happened.
+
+The kitchen was in an ell of the house, and, by hitching his chair
+around, he could command a view from the side window of a slice of
+the garden in front, and also of a narrow strip of the road before
+the house. He would watch this strip, and if a passer-by appeared,
+would hail him or her, and beg to have a new pair of crutches ordered
+from the town.
+
+It was while he was sitting in the gathering gloom watching this bit
+of highway, that the marvellous thing happened. Just by the corner
+of the house was a black patch on the snow,--the hind legs and tail
+of the poor deceased Poacher. The fore part of the body was beyond
+his vision. Dillson had no particular dislike for the spectacle. A
+dead dog was a more pleasant sight than a living one to him, and he
+was just wondering whom he would get to remove the animal, when he
+imagined that he saw the tail move.
+
+No, it was only his imperfect vision, and he rubbed his eyes and
+moistened his glasses. Now the tail was no longer there--the hind
+legs were no longer there. Had some one come up the front walk and
+drawn the creature away?
+
+He pressed his face close against the window-pane. No--there was the
+dog himself on his feet and walking about--first in a staggering
+fashion, then more correctly.
+
+The old man eagerly raised the window. If the girl lived, and was
+going about saying that he had killed her dog, here was proof
+positive that he had not; and smacking his lips, and making a
+clicking sound with his tongue, he tried to attract the resuscitated
+Poacher's attention. He must capture the animal and keep him.
+
+It was years since he had called a dog--not since he was a young man
+and had gone hunting on the marshes below the town.
+
+"Here, dog, dog!" he said, impatiently; "good dog!"
+
+Poacher gravely advanced to the window and stood below him.
+
+"Good dog," repeated the old man. "Hi--jump in," and he held the
+window higher.
+
+The dog would not jump while the enemy was there. He would not have
+jumped at all, if he had been at the back door, for he would have
+smelled his mistress's tracks and gone after her. Now he suspected
+that she was in the house.
+
+Though every movement gave him agony, the old man hobbled away from
+the window. The dog sprang in, and Dillson clapped the sash down. He
+had the animal now.
+
+Poacher was running around the room, sniffing vigorously. He stood on
+his hind legs and smelled at the peg where the hat and tippet had
+hung. Then he ran to the wood-shed door.
+
+With a most unusual exertion of strength, the old man rose, pushed
+the chair before him, and breathing hard, and resting heavily on
+it, opened the cellar door. He would shut the dog down there out of
+sight, and where he could not run out if any one came in.
+
+"She's down there, dog," he said, and the boldness with which he told
+the story so impressed Poacher, that after one inquiring glance which
+convinced him that his enemy's attitude had changed from that of a
+murderous to a semi-friendly one, he dashed down the steps into the
+cold cellar.
+
+Dillson slammed the door, and chuckled. Now to get back to the
+window. He tried to hitch his chair along, but he was weak and must
+rest. He sat for a few minutes, and when the few minutes were over,
+he found that his muscles had stiffened. He could not move.
+
+He sat a little longer. The fire went out, and the room got cold. He
+was so far from the window that he doubted if any one could hear him
+if he shouted.
+
+He lifted up his voice to try. He was as hoarse as a crow. He had a
+cold, and it was every minute getting worse. If he had the dog from
+the cellar, he might tie something to him and frighten him so that
+he would go dashing through a window. He began to feel that if the
+little girl did not return, he might sit there till he died.
+
+His case was not desperate yet, however. He waited and waited. The
+night came and went, and another morning dawned, and the weather
+changed outside, until a stiff frost began to transform the thaw into
+a return of winter weather--and still he waited, but the little girl
+did not come.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE TIGER BECOMES A LAMB.
+
+
+Gippie was tired out, and in an execrable temper. He had had to trot
+home all the way from the Tracys, for his mistress was carrying a
+long bundle under one arm, and a good-sized basket on the other. And
+now that she was in sight of the house, she was fairly running, and
+he could scarcely keep up with her.
+
+Her head was turned far round, she was looking over her shoulder in
+the direction away from the front of the house, and yet she went
+right to the spot where the unfortunate Poacher had fallen.
+
+Gippie knew very well what all her emotion was about. Like some deaf
+and partly blind human beings, he was more aware of happenings than
+people supposed. Poacher was dead, and he was not sorry for it,
+for he had been desperately jealous of him, and limping up to his
+mistress he impatiently whined to claim recognition.
+
+"Oh, Gippie, what shall I do?" she moaned. "What shall I do? He was
+so good and gentle. I can't go in--I can't go in."
+
+She was on her knees on the snow. Her hands were wandering over the
+depression where Poacher had lain. Her face was so pale and unhappy,
+that even Gippie's selfish heart was touched, and standing on his
+hind legs to reach her shoulder, he tenderly licked her right ear
+inside and out, until she brushed him aside with a half laugh, half
+sob, and a murmured, "You tickle my ear, Gippie."
+
+She got up and moved slowly toward the back door, while the dog
+trotted along nimbly on his three legs after her. Why, what a
+vault! and Gippie shivered and turned his short-sighted eyes in the
+direction of the kitchen stove. It was black and cold, and the old
+man, sitting in the draughtiest corner of the room, right by the
+cellar door, was a dull, mottled purple. He did not speak when the
+door opened. He was morose and silent, and his whole appearance was
+that of a man in extreme distress.
+
+Gippie was an excellent hater, and it did him good to see the old man
+suffer. However, he did not care to suffer with him, and squealing
+dismally, he planted himself near the delinquent stove.
+
+'Tilda Jane's listlessness and painful depression were gone. With a
+quick exclamation, she had dropped her basket and bundle, and had
+sprung to the kindling box.
+
+There was nothing in it. She rushed to the wood-shed, came back with
+a handful of sticks and paper, and by dint of extra quick movements
+had, in an astonishingly short space of time, a good fire roaring up
+the chimney.
+
+Then she turned to the old man, who was still sitting in stony
+silence. "I'm 'fraid you're most froze, sir. Can't you come nigher
+the fire?"
+
+Dillson's eyelids were swollen with the cold, but there was still
+room for a disagreeable twinkle to glimmer through. He would say
+nothing, however, and 'Tilda Jane, approaching the long, peculiar
+looking bundle, opened it, took out a pair of crutches, and handed
+them to him with a humble, supplicating air.
+
+Gippie crawled farther under the stove, and, lowering his head,
+awaited developments.
+
+But there was no danger of a blow from the old man. His hands were
+so benumbed that he could not hold the crutches. They slipped to the
+floor with a crash, and, opening his purple lips, he ejaculated the
+word, "Tea!"
+
+"Ain't you had nothin' sence I left?" inquired 'Tilda Jane, sharply.
+
+Dillson shook his head.
+
+"You ain't been sittin' there all night?"
+
+He nodded his head this time.
+
+'Tilda Jane's face took on an expression of dismay, and she flew
+around the kitchen.
+
+The warm atmosphere was now enwrapping the old man in a most
+agreeable manner, and when 'Tilda Jane handed him the big cup, he
+grunted something between an expression of thanks and a desire that
+she should hold it to his lips.
+
+While he greedily drank the hot liquid, 'Tilda Jane, with a queer
+choking in her throat, addressed broken remarks to him. "I didn't
+know, sir--I was hopin' some one would come in--I was mos' crazy
+'bout the dog--I forgot all 'bout you till jus' now."
+
+"More," he said, shortly, when 'Tilda Jane put the cup down.
+
+She refilled it, then, as his hands began to get supple and he could
+manipulate it himself, she uncovered the basket Mrs. Tracy had given
+her.
+
+"I didn't look in before," she exclaimed. "Oh, the beauty eggs!" and
+she carefully unrolled a napkin, "an' the white rolls, an' Washington
+cake, an' a meat pie, an' a tart--I say, grampa, we'll have a good
+dinner!"
+
+The old man looked strangely at her, but she went on unheedingly:
+"They're jus' boss people. I'm glad I went an' talked to 'em--I'm
+sorry I was so ugly to you, grampa, an' if you don't want me, I guess
+I'd better go 'way."
+
+She spoke quite humbly and naturally, and, as she did so, she raised
+her head and glanced in Dillson's direction.
+
+He made no response, and she went on: "I've been a very bad little
+girl, but I'm goin' to be better, an' you jus' tell me what you want
+me to do, grampa, an' I'll do it, an' if you don't want to talk, you
+jus' write it. I know you're a big man, an' mebbe you don't want to
+talk to a little girl like me, but I'll not lay it up agin you. You
+jus' do what you want, an' I'm not tryin' to come round you, 'cause I
+'spect you'll send me off quicker'n a flash so soon as you get some
+one else."
+
+Her lips were trembling, and her face was bright and expectant, but
+the old man gave her no satisfaction.
+
+"Hand me some of that pie," he said, unexpectedly.
+
+"Can you wait till I set the table an' make it look real pretty,
+grampa?" she said, coaxingly.
+
+Dillson was nearly starved, and, without a word, held out his hand in
+a commanding fashion.
+
+"All right, grampa," she said, gently, and she handed him a generous
+slice; "anythin' you like. This is your house. It ain't mine."
+
+Dillson ate his pie, watching her meanwhile out of a corner of his
+eye.
+
+"Bread and meat," he said when he had finished.
+
+'Tilda Jane supplied this want, and earnestly watched these viands
+going the way of the pie.
+
+"More tea," he said, when they were gone.
+
+When he had eaten and drunk to an alarming extent, he pointed to the
+crutches. "Where did you get them?"
+
+"I saw 'em in a window, grampa,--a great big druggist's window,--an'
+I went in an' said to the man, 'Can you trust me for 'em? I'll pay
+you, sure pop, if you'll gimme time. I'm goin' to be a good girl now,
+an' never tell no more lies nor steal, nor do anythin' bad,' but he
+jus' said ever so grumpy, 'This is a cast down, no credit system
+store,' but I wasn't cas' down, an' I said, 'S'pose you was a lame
+man, an' a bad little girl burnt up your crutches, how would you
+feel? 'Then he looked kind o' solemn, an' said, 'Whose crutches was
+burnt up?' An' I said, 'Mr. Hobart Dillson's crutches,' an' he said,
+'What girl burnt 'em?' I said, 'A little girl that don't know where
+to look.' Then he asked what you said when I burnt your crutches, an'
+I said you didn't say much, you jus' cussed. Then he turned his face
+round to the bottles, an' when he looked out it was red, an' he was
+shakin' all over like as if he's been cryin', an' he jus' pointed to
+the crutches an' said, 'Take 'em, an' welcome.'"
+
+Dillson's head dropped on his breast. This girl had evidently gone to
+Peter Jerret's store,--Peter Jerret who had owed him a grudge ever
+since the day he went in and denounced him before a store full of
+customers for overcharging him for prescriptions. Peter had actually
+dared to pity him--Hobart Dillson, and so had let the girl have the
+crutches, not caring whether he ever got paid or not. Well, he hadn't
+thought Peter would ever pity him, and, drawing his crutches toward
+him, Dillson cautiously lifted himself, and tried his weight upon
+them.
+
+Yes, he could walk, he would go to bed, and think over Peter's
+conduct. It affected him, but he must not look soft. "Open my door,"
+he said to 'Tilda Jane.
+
+While she flew to obey his command, the old man heard a low whine
+near him, and remembered Poacher. The dog had recognised the girl's
+voice, and would soon make himself known. He might as well have
+the credit of his discovery. If she had come home sulky he would
+have allowed her to find the dog for herself, but she was meek and
+biddable, and she had also secretly pleased him by addressing him as
+"grampa," in tones of such respect and affection. She had improved
+decidedly, and he exclaimed, peremptorily, "Here, you!"
+
+'Tilda Jane ran out from the bedroom, where she was turning down the
+icy sheets in the bed so that the chill might be taken from them.
+
+"Open this door," ordered the old man.
+
+With a wondering air 'Tilda Jane threw back the cellar door. Then she
+gave a joyful scream.
+
+There, standing on the top step, cold and shivering, half famished,
+but alive and well, was her beloved Poacher.
+
+She tried to catch him around the neck, but he flew past her into the
+kitchen, came back like a shot, and, dashing up her back, licked her
+neck, sprang into the air, and again racing round and round the room,
+brought on what she herself would call a "combobberation."
+
+The old man was so near, that Poacher, in his wild gyrations to and
+fro, swept one of his crutches from him. 'Tilda Jane, even in the
+midst of her astonished and ecstatic glee, perceived this, and
+stooped down to recover the lost article, but she could not lay her
+hand on it, for the excited dog, with his head in the air and his
+tongue hanging out, made repeated dashes at her, beside her, behind
+her,--he was everywhere that she was. And Gippie was after him, for,
+snorting with rage and mortification at the resuscitation of his
+rival, he had bounded from under the stove, and, with his maimed
+tail wagging excitedly in the air, was biting, snapping, growling
+at Poacher's heels, nipping him fiercely, if by chance he paused a
+second to rest.
+
+The noise and confusion were overcoming, and the old man, holding
+firmly to his remaining crutch, and grasping the back of a chair,
+grimly surveyed the scene. Finally 'Tilda Jane secured the crutch,
+and, pantingly brushing back her dishevelled hair, she passed it to
+him across the dogs' backs.
+
+Poacher had now sunk on the floor at her feet, while Gippie was
+exerting his feeble strength in trying to crowd him away from 'Tilda
+Jane's stout shoes.
+
+"Forgive us, grampa, dear grampa," she said, beseechingly; "but it's
+such a joyful 'casion--such a 'casion. My heart never felt so big in
+my life. It's all swolled up. Oh, ain't you sweet to prepare this
+s'prise for me. When I come back jus' now I thought my pet was buried
+in the cold ground--oh, I jus' love you!" and, climbing over the
+quarrelling dogs, she seized the bunch of knuckles nearest her, and
+kissed them fervently.
+
+The old man slowly uncurled his fist and looked at it. How many years
+was it since any one had kissed him?
+
+He put the crutch under his arm, and turned toward the bedroom.
+
+"Good night, grampa, dear grampa," floated sweetly after him. The
+girl was down on the floor with her dogs, her arm was around the
+hound's black neck, the three-legged atrocity was pressed to her
+side. She was happy, yes, happy--"as happy as a fool," he grumbled to
+himself. Nothing to annoy her, nothing to trouble her. Wait till she
+got older, and life's worries began to crowd around her, and with an
+impatient groan the old man flung himself down on the chair by his
+bed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+A TROUBLED MIND.
+
+
+'Tilda Jane and grampa were sitting out in front of the house. The
+spring months had passed, the apple-trees had blossomed, and the
+young apples had formed. With the changing season had come happier
+days for 'Tilda Jane. Little by little, as the weeks slipped by, a
+better understanding had arisen between her and "grampa."
+
+He still gave way occasionally to terrible fits of temper and
+sullenness, but 'Tilda Jane understood him better now, and was quick
+to soothe and pacify him, or, if he was unmanageable, to keep out of
+his presence until he recovered.
+
+Just now he was in an unusually amiable frame of mind,--a frame
+of mind so accommodating that it boded storms in the near future.
+However, 'Tilda Jane did not care. She accepted the present peace and
+was thankful.
+
+She had dragged out his big rocking-chair for him to sit on, and had
+given him an evening paper to read, while she herself was curled up
+on her favourite seat on the door-step.
+
+The old man was not inclined to read his paper, and dropping it on
+his knees he took off his glasses, put them in his pocket, and let
+his eyes wander to the apple-trees.
+
+The river was flowing blue and open now, birds were singing, and all
+things betokened a fine summer.
+
+"When you hear those robins sing, don't it feel as if there was a
+little string squeakin' inside o' you?" said 'Tilda Jane, gleefully.
+
+Dillson made no reply, and seeing that he was in no mood for a
+sympathetic comparison of emotions, she diplomatically started
+another topic of conversation.
+
+"I guess the birds make me glad, 'cause I'm so happy you let me bide
+with you, grampa--an' you've been so noble an' generous to lend me
+money to pay for the matron's shawl I took for Gippie. An' it was so
+kind in the lady-boards to write back that they was glad to get rid
+of me."
+
+[Illustration: "'THEY WAS GLAD TO GET RID OF ME.'"]
+
+The old man laughed a toothless laugh at her whimsical view of the
+lady-boards' reply, but said nothing.
+
+"I ain't told you much of my travels yet, grampa," she said,
+agreeably. "I've been so busy house-cleanin'. I guess you'd like to
+hear about Vanceboro."
+
+The old man did not display any particular interest in Vanceboro, but
+having assured herself by a swift examination of his features that
+the subject was not disagreeable to him, she went on, "It's a great
+ole place. I'd like you to go there sometime, grampa. Such goings-on
+with them furriners! I saw one woman walkin' up and down wringin' her
+hands an' cryin' 'cause they wouldn't let her bring her ole mother
+into this nation."
+
+She waited for her hearer to ask why the mother was forbidden to
+come where the daughter could enter, but he did not do so, and she
+continued, "She was a poor woman from Boston, an' her mother was a
+poor woman from Canada, an' they said if she come in 'twould be two
+poor women together, an' first thing they knowed they'd be both in
+the poorhouse. So her mother had to go back to Canada."
+
+Dillson looked entirely uninterested in the case of the would-be
+immigrant, so, after a farewell announcement that sometimes as many
+as two hundred "furriners" went through Vanceboro in a single day,
+'Tilda Jane passed on to another branch of her subject.
+
+"It's a reg'lar jubilee, grampa, when the trains come in--a boy
+runnin' to a big bell an' ringin' it, an' people pourin' into the
+lunch-room, an' jus' chasin' the food into their mouths an' lookin'
+hunted-like, as if there was somethin' after them, an' some don't
+take time to go to the tables. They step up to the lunch-counter,
+which is shaped jus' like a moon when it ain't full. There's glass
+dishes on it, with oranges, an' bananas, an' cakes an' pies, an'
+sangwiches, an' a funny machine where you drop a nickel in a
+crack, an' if the hand points to five, or ten or fifteen, you get
+twenty-five cents' worth of candy, an' if you don't get candy you get
+good advice like as, 'You've been keepin' bad comp'ny, quit it or you
+will never prosper,' or 'You've run away from home, an' the perlice
+is on your track,' or 'Smokin is a bad thing for your health.'"
+
+Grampa was not very much interested, so 'Tilda Jane tried something
+more startling.
+
+"There's great talk of railroad accidents there. Men get killed
+awful. I heard a table-girl ask a brakeman how he could go on a
+train for fear he'd be hurt, an' he said he dassent stop to think,
+he had to take chances. I used to see 'em runnin' like cats on top
+o' them cars, slippery with snow an' ice. If you're inside one o'
+them cars, grampa, an' there's goin' to be a turnover, jus' grip hard
+on somethin' steady, 'cause then you're not so apt to get killed. I
+heard a conductor say that."
+
+Grampa's travelling days were over, yet it pleased him to be talked
+to as if he were still a strong and active man, and he said, shortly,
+"I'm not likely to be going far from home."
+
+"You don't know, grampa," she said, soothingly. "Some day when you
+get nice and well, I'd like to travel with you, but first you must be
+very quiet like one of Job's mice, an' not have anythin' gnawin' at
+you--I guess you've had lots of plague times in your life."
+
+Grampa looked unheedingly beyond her to the apple-trees.
+
+Her face was shrewd and puckered, and she was surveying him like a
+cunning little cat.
+
+"Sometimes, grampa, I hear you fussin' in your sleep--moanin' an'
+cryin' like a poor dog what's lost her pups."
+
+The old man turned and looked at her sharply.
+
+She went on boldly, "Can I lie in my soft, warm bed up-stairs an' you
+a-sufferin'? No, I creepy, creepy down, to see if I can do anythin'."
+
+"Don't you do that again," said the old man, his face becoming red.
+"You stay in your bed at night."
+
+"All right, grampa," she said, meekly, "but I've heard things
+already."
+
+"Things--what things?" he asked, sharply.
+
+'Tilda Jane folded together the apron she was hemming, and getting
+up, opened a door of retreat behind her into the house.
+
+"About losin' that money," she said, sadly. She paused, and as he
+neither spoke or made any motion to throw a crutch at her, she
+proceeded, "Grampa, I jus' know it's like a little pain hawk pickin'
+at your skin."
+
+Grampa was still silent, painfully so, and she hurried on, "You
+haven't got much money, an' you have me an' the dogs to take care
+of. Now, grampa, won't you let me get some work to do outside to
+help us?" and she screwed her features into their most persuasive
+appearance.
+
+Grampa had his head turned away over his shoulder, and when he after
+a long time twisted it around, 'Tilda Jane rose, and prudently and
+swiftly retired into the hall.
+
+He must be in a rage. His face was fiery, and he was making a
+choking, spluttering sound in his throat,--a sound that only came
+from him in moments of agitation.
+
+"Don't you--don't you," he stammered, "spy on me again, and bother
+your young head about things you know nothing of. Do you hear?" and
+he accentuated his remarks by a tap of his crutch on the door-step.
+"I've had a way all my life of talking over things in my sleep. And
+you've got enough to do at home. I'll not have you working for other
+people."
+
+"All right, grampa," said 'Tilda Jane, submissively, and she made
+a step toward him. She had planned to fly through the hall to his
+bedroom, and remove his wash bowl and pitcher, for since she had come
+to the cottage he had broken several in his fits of rage.
+
+But grampa was not angry in a violent way this time. "He's more
+bothered than mad," she murmured, dispiritedly, and she drew aside to
+allow him to pass by her into the house.
+
+"The dew's falling," he muttered, as he went by her. "I'll go sit in
+the kitchen a spell."
+
+'Tilda Jane went mournfully to sit under the trees on a wooden bench
+that grampa had had made for her. The two dogs curled themselves up
+at her feet, and with a sigh she picked up a writing pad beside her.
+It was almost too dark to see the lines, but she must finish a letter
+that she had begun to write to Hank.
+
+His former custom had been to scratch a line to his father once in
+six months to say he was alive and well, but since 'Tilda Jane's
+arrival he had written every week, and had addressed his letters to
+her.
+
+It was a great pleasure to the little girl to get these letters,
+and an equal pleasure to answer them. She related to him every
+occurrence of her daily life, all details of his father's conduct
+except disagreeable ones, and her letters always ended with an urgent
+request that he would come and visit them.
+
+This evening she had as usual made an appeal at the end of her
+letter. "Dear Mr. Hank, it seems a long time sence the snow was on
+the ground. I guess if you knew how much we want to see you you'd
+come hurryin' home. The dogs send love, Gippie specially 'cause he
+knows you. Poacher says he'd be happy to make your acquaintance--and,
+Mr. Hank, your father's kind of worried about somethin'. I guess he'd
+like to see you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+AN UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE.
+
+
+While 'Tilda Jane wrote, Poacher suddenly made a stealthy movement,
+and Gippie, deaf as he was, had enough of the dog spirit left in him
+to know that some one was coming, and to elevate the tiny V-shaped
+flaps over his ears.
+
+The gate clicked, there was a rustling along the ribbon-grass
+bordering the narrow path, and then 'Tilda Jane's writing-pad fell to
+the ground, and she sprang up with a delighted scream.
+
+For peering forward in the gathering gloom, she discovered Hank, the
+long-absent Hank, moving heavily and awkwardly up the path toward her.
+
+He had grown thin; his clothes hung loosely on him, and he was pale
+and worried in appearance, but 'Tilda Jane did not criticise him. He
+was the person who had most helped her in her search for a home, and,
+springing toward him, she caught his arm and ejaculated: "Oh, Hank!
+Mr. Hank--is it truly you I'm pinchin', or is it a ghost?"
+
+He smiled faintly, and, in return, pinched her cheek. "I ain't a
+ghost yet, though 'pon my word I didn't know but what I'd soon be
+one." As he spoke, he threw himself wearily on the seat. "Well,
+'Tilda, how does Ciscasset treat you? Coronation! You're getting
+fat," and he scanned her in satisfaction. "I wouldn't know you for
+the little runaway that held me up last March out at Marsden."
+
+"I guess I'm gettin' fat 'cause I'm peaceful in my mind," said 'Tilda
+Jane, demurely; "I don't have no one to fight. I'm jus' havin' the
+softest time!"
+
+"So father really treats you well?"
+
+"Of course--don't I write you? He's jus' as sweet as a peach. He lets
+me wash, an' scrub, an' cook, an' never says a word excep' not to
+work too hard, an' if he wants to be jus' a little bit cranky, jus' a
+teeny little bit, he goes in his room an' shuts the door till the bad
+spirit gets out of him."
+
+"Did he ever hurt you?"
+
+"No, he never struck me--he usen't to like the dogs."
+
+Hank had never been told of Poacher's adventure, but his attention
+wandered to the dog, and he absently stroked his head.
+
+"You've done the old man a lot of good," he said at last.
+
+"I--no, sir," said 'Tilda Jane, earnestly. "I guess it's the dogs.
+But he wants more good done to him. He's in a regular slouch of
+despond sometimes, Mr. Hank."
+
+"Is he?" said the young man, listlessly; "what's he desponding about?"
+
+"About money, Mr. Hank. He lost some in the street, and never got
+it back--then it costs something to keep me and the dogs. I feel
+dreadful about it. I try to eat jus' as little as possible, but I'm
+as hungry as a bear mos' all the time."
+
+Hank's attention was aroused. "You must not stent yourself, sissy.
+This is too bad. I'm to blame. I've been intending to send you some
+money, but I've had a run of bad luck."
+
+His face was so disturbed that 'Tilda Jane made haste to change the
+subject.
+
+"Oh, I'm so worked up to see you--I'm perfectly 'tossicated. I feel
+jus' like the teakettle afore it boils, an' that 'minds me--I mus' go
+set it on. You mus' be starvin'."
+
+"No, I ain't hungry; I haven't had an appetite for a week. How much
+did father lose?"
+
+"Sixty dollars," said the little girl, reluctantly.
+
+Hank relapsed into silence after this information. He was evidently
+not inclined to talk, but 'Tilda Jane was brimful of questions, and
+presently burst out with one of them.
+
+"Mr. Hank, what did you do with that beauty horse of yours?"
+
+"Had to sell it," he said, bitterly. "I've lost everything I had.
+Those farmers are all against me. Every potato top among them. I'm
+played out in this State. They'd like to jail me if they could."
+
+"Jail you," said 'Tilda Jane, resentfully, "I guess I'd come and
+pound at the door of the jail if they did."
+
+"You ought to pound," said Hank, in an ungrateful and ungallant
+tone, "'cause I ain't had a mite of luck since you crossed my path."
+
+'Tilda Jane fell into blank astonishment for the space of one minute,
+then she asked, wistfully, "Do you mean that--did I truly bring you
+bad luck?"
+
+"You truly did," he said, peevishly. "I'm all broken up in my
+business, cleaned out, done for."
+
+'Tilda Jane pushed the hair back from her forehead with a bewildered
+gesture. Her benefactor was in trouble--perhaps ruined, and through
+her. But this was no time for reflection, the urgency of the case
+demanded action.
+
+"Mr. Hank," she said, softly, "warn't it a roguey kind of a business,
+anyway?"
+
+"All business is roguey," he said, gruffly.
+
+"I guess you don't mean that," she said, mildly. "I know you don't
+mean that I've done you harm. I guess you're jus' in trouble like the
+river in the spring, when the ice goes mixy-maxy every way."
+
+He smiled slightly as he rose, and looked down into the shrewd little
+face, "Well, ta, ta, 'Tilda--be a good girl."
+
+"Where are you goin'?" she asked, helplessly.
+
+"Blest if I know--somewhere to earn a living, to Canada, maybe."
+
+"Don't you go through Vanceboro," she said, sharply, then she pressed
+her hands to her head. "I think I'm crazy--are you Hank Dillson,
+standin' there sayin' you're goin' to leave us like this?"
+
+"Don't take on, 'Tilda," he said, consolingly. "I'm real sorry. I
+wouldn't have come out of my way this much if I hadn't promised you,
+and if you hadn't been such a nice little girl. Of course you haven't
+hurt me. I guess you've done me good, for I've had a kind of disgust
+with my business ever since you set foot in my life."
+
+She paid no attention to the latter part of his speech. "You say
+you've got to go, an' I can't keep you," she murmured, stupidly, "an'
+you don't know where you're goin'."
+
+"I don't know, an' I don't want to know. I'll loaf along till my
+money gives out, then I'll go to work."
+
+"Hank, do you think of Orstralia?"
+
+"No, I ain't got dough enough to get that far."
+
+"Do you mean bread?"
+
+"No, I mean cash."
+
+"Why don't you stay here?"
+
+"Nothing to do that I know of. This is a one-horse place."
+
+"Hank, you ain't seen your father," she cried, catching at his coat
+sleeve, as he turned toward the gate.
+
+"'Pon my word, I forgot the old man. I believe I'll go in for sixty
+seconds. You say his health's better?"
+
+"Yes," said 'Tilda Jane, hurriedly, "I didn't write you that he had a
+fit not long sence, and it seemed to straighten him out. He goes to
+town on his crutches every day, an' Gippie limps after him--oh, Hank
+Dillson, Hank Dillson, I'm mos' loony about this business of your
+goin' away."
+
+Hank smiled wearily at her, and went slowly toward the house.
+
+"How long can you stay?" she asked, running after him. "How long will
+you give us?"
+
+He took out his watch, and held it close to his face. "I guess I'll
+take the eleven o'clock train. It's nine now--I thought I'd look up
+some of the boys."
+
+"Give us all the time," she said, pleadingly, "stay with your father
+an' me. Oh, promise, will you?"
+
+"All right," he said, obligingly. "I don't care if I do. I'm beat
+out, anyway."
+
+"I have to go some place, but I'll be back soon," she called after
+him, then she threw up both hands and pressed them over her ears,--a
+favourite gesture with her when she was doing hard thinking.
+
+"Mr. Waysmith or Mr. Tracy," she repeated, half aloud. "Mr. Waysmith
+or Mr. Tracy. Mr. Tracy," she said, at last, "he's most likely," and
+whirling on her heel, she flew down the path, out the gate, and into
+the street.
+
+Poacher, silent, graceful, and swift, kept close to her, but the
+battered Gippie soon gave up the chase with a howl of protest, and
+went limping home.
+
+Hank, to his surprise, had, on the whole, the most agreeable talk of
+his life with his father. The old man was altered. He had been, at
+the same time, the stiffest and the most demonstrative of parents,
+the young man reflected. There really was a remarkable change for the
+better in him, and yet, at the end of three-quarters of an hour, Hank
+got up to take his leave.
+
+They were nearly always absent from each other, they had got out of
+the way of taking an active interest in each other's concerns--there
+was not yet sufficiently firm footing and enough of it to bridge
+to the shaky background of the past, and parting would be a mutual
+relief.
+
+Yet the old man's eyes twinkled wistfully as they followed his son to
+the door. Hank had told him nothing of his troubles, yet his father
+saw that he had lost flesh, that he had not a prosperous air, and he
+acutely guessed that all was not going well with him. He would find
+out from the young girl, and with a sigh he settled back in his chair.
+
+"I'll try to come home soon again, father," said Hank, dispiritedly,
+as he looked over his shoulder before closing the bedroom door, and
+he was just shrugging his shoulders at the promise, when something
+dark and panting caught at him in the unlighted kitchen, and made him
+jump.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+A FRIEND IN NEED.
+
+
+It was 'Tilda Jane, breathing like a race-horse.
+
+"What's up with you, sissy?" he asked.
+
+She could not speak for a few seconds, then she gasped with
+difficulty, "Hank, dear old Hank, he's in there--the loveliest
+man--he's always ready to do a turn for any one--go in--tell him your
+business. I've said a little, mind what he tells you, an' you'll
+get on. He's helped lots of people. He was in the midst of a dinner
+party. He's so good--he jus' left it an' come. Go--" and she gave
+him a gentle push and sent him into the parlour, where he blinked
+his eyes alternately at the lamp on the table, and at a small, dark,
+quiet man who sat with his hat on his knee.
+
+The small man was breathing hard, as if he, too, had been walking
+fast, but on seeing Hank, he rose and stood with outstretched hand.
+
+"My name is Tracy," he said, kindly, "and I have come to this town
+since you left it, but I know your family."
+
+"I know you, too," said Hank, bluntly, "from her letters," and he
+jerked his head backward, but 'Tilda Jane, after softly closing the
+door, had disappeared.
+
+Mr. Tracy sat down again, and Hank sat opposite him. A slight and
+awkward pause ensued, broken speedily, however, by the minister.
+
+"Young man, you are in trouble."
+
+"Yes, I am that," said Hank, gruffly.
+
+"State your trouble," said the minister, kindly.
+
+Hank hesitated an instant, then his words came with a rush. "You've
+visited creameries, sir?"
+
+"I have."
+
+"Well, there's good creameries and bad creameries. A few years ago,
+when I was casting about in my mind for something to do, I got in
+with a Chicago firm known as the White Elephant firm--owing to
+so many States being spotted with their buildings, loaded on the
+farmers, and costing too much to keep up. Being a Maine man, they
+sent me to my own State. I was one of their most go-ahead sharks,
+now they've fired me to fix themselves right with the farmers. Do you
+know how they take in a community, sir?"
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+"Well, s'pose you're a shark. You navigate round among the farmers,
+and make a smother of big talk about hauling in buckets full of
+money. You get a committee to visit some creamery where the outfit
+is salted to make an extra showing. You pay the farmers' expenses,
+you offer 'em a block of stock, and up goes the creamery in their
+district with machinery from the promoting company, costing two or
+three times over what everything is worth. When the whole thing's up,
+it'll usually dawn on the minds of your stockholders that a creamery
+ain't much without cows, and their cows ain't got enough milk to pay
+for the fuel they burn. 'Way back here fifty miles, I had whipped up
+a creamery; I had a man to run the machinery, but he was a simpleton.
+He ruined the separator, it had to be sent back to the shop, an' I
+got mad with him.
+
+"Then he blabbed, told everything he knew, an' a lot he didn't,
+an' the farmers stopped counting their cows long enough to listen.
+Hasty words flew round, about fraudulent subscriptions, vitiated
+transactions, no contracts, ruined farms, going to law--an' I thought
+it was time to skip. The firm had made me stop there up to this, an'
+as soon as I ran, they bounced me--I'm all played out here, sir. My
+native State bids me farewell!"
+
+Hank suddenly ceased speaking, his head dropped on his breast, yet
+before it did so, he shot one appealing, hopeful glance at his
+listener. Despite his "don't-care" tone, and off-hand manner, it was
+plainly to be seen that he felt himself in trouble, and knew that
+there was one at hand who would help him.
+
+"You've been in a poor business," observed Mr. Tracy, quietly. "You
+want to quit it?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Hank, meekly.
+
+"Listen then--" and his companion in his turn began to speak rapidly.
+
+'Tilda Jane, flying about the house, sent many an anxious thought to
+the closed parlour. What was the minister saying to Hank? Would Hank
+talk to him freely?
+
+"O Lord! Lord! Lord!" she cried, suddenly stopping and raising her
+clasped hands to the ceiling, "do make his heart soft--soft as mush,
+an' don't let him be sassy. The minister is smooth an' nice, an' he
+would stand sass, but it's awful bad for Hank. He's got to sober
+down. O Lord, make him solemn--jus' like an owl!"
+
+She dashed a tear from the corner of her eye, and went on with her
+occupation of wrapping various articles in a red handkerchief.
+
+When the parlour door opened, she ran to the front hall, and as Mr.
+Tracy passed her, she caught his hand and pressed it fervently.
+
+He said nothing, but smiling with the more than earthly sweetness of
+one who truly loved his fellow men, he hurried back to his deserted
+guests.
+
+Hank followed close at his heels, and as he stood in the hall
+doorway, looking already straighter and taller, he smiled
+patronisingly down at 'Tilda Jane.
+
+"You're a mighty fine girl, sissy, how old are you now?"
+
+"Thirteen o'clock las' week--struck fourteen this--oh, what did the
+minister say?"
+
+Hank thumped his chest. "He's got me a situation, sissy,--a situation
+that means bread and butter for you and father, and maybe cake and
+jam."
+
+The little girl locked her hands in intense excitement. "Where, Hank,
+oh, where?"
+
+"Here, sissy."
+
+"In Ciscasset?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+'Tilda Jane suppressed a scream. "An' you can live at home?"
+
+"Well, I rather guess so."
+
+'Tilda Jane's pleasure was too deep for words. She stood gaping
+speechlessly at him.
+
+Hank, in high good humour, beamed benevolently on the orphan girl as
+she stood beside him. "What are you sticking your head up an down for
+like a chicken taking a drink?" he said at last.
+
+"Hank, I'm givin' thanks," she said, reverently, "givin' thanks that
+you've got led out of that roguey business."
+
+"I'll not get into anything of that kind again, sissy," he said,
+with a shamefaced air. "You may just be sure of that. I've had a
+great talk with that friend of yours--and sissy, I'm obliged to you."
+
+There was a queer break in his voice. An end had suddenly come to his
+troubles. He would now be in the way of earning an honest living. And
+it would be a pleasure to live with his father and this young girl
+who would look up to him and admire him.
+
+"Sissy," he said, abruptly, "where do you think my new berth is?"
+
+"I don't know--oh, tell me quick."
+
+"In the Waysmith lumber mill. Mr. Waysmith offered a place to your
+friend Tracy to-day for some young man, and I'm the young man."
+
+"With the Waysmiths?" murmured 'Tilda Jane, "where your father used
+to be?"
+
+"The same, sissy."
+
+'Tilda Jane could stand no more. "O Lord, I thank thee!" she cried,
+with a burst of tears, and running into the kitchen, she buried her
+face in the roller towel hanging on a door.
+
+Hank sauntered after her, and on his way stumbled over a bundle done
+up in a spotted red handkerchief. He stooped down, picked it up,
+and opened it. It contained a few lumps of sugar, a Bible, a pair
+of socks, two handkerchiefs, half a loaf of cake, and fifty cents
+wrapped in a piece of newspaper.
+
+"My travelling kit," he murmured; "well, if she ain't the best little
+creature!"
+
+"Hello, 'Tilda!" he called out; "stop that whimpering, and come and
+tell grampa the news."
+
+The little girl hastily dried her face on the towel, and ran into the
+bedroom where grampa sat surveying them in bewilderment from the edge
+of his bed. Some time ago he had come to his room with the intention
+of undressing. His son's visit had upset him, and he had been sitting
+confusedly listening to the scraps of conversation he caught from
+different parts of the house.
+
+"Grampa, grampa!" cried 'Tilda Jane, running in, and excitedly waving
+her hands, "Hank's goin' to live at home with you, an' me, an' the
+dogs. We'll be a real family. Oh, ain't it lovely, ain't it lovely?"
+and catching hold of her skirts she began a sidling and peculiar
+dance about the room.
+
+Hank laughed till the tears came into his eyes. 'Tilda Jane was good,
+but she was not graceful. Then his merriment over, he began to yawn,
+and 'Tilda Jane, as keen of observation as ever, immediately espied
+this sign of fatigue.
+
+She caught up Gippie, who alone showed no pleasure at the prospect of
+having another inmate of the house, and danced out to the kitchen.
+
+"Come out, grampa dear," she called, "we'll all have a good supper,
+'cause this is a most joyful 'casion."
+
+As grampa started to limp out to the kitchen, Hank quietly placed
+himself by his side.
+
+The old man looked at him. "I'm not sorry you're going to stay," he
+remarked, gruffly. "They say there's no place like home."
+
+"You'd better believe that's true, father," said Hank, warmly; "a
+fellow gets sick of hotels and boarding-houses. We'll have some more
+funds now that I'm going to get at some decent kind of work. You
+mustn't bother your head about expenses."
+
+The old man sank into his chair with a sigh of relief. His face was
+working strangely. Last year at this time he was alone and miserable
+in a cheerless house. Now his son was with him, a brisk young girl
+was flying about his kitchen, a bright fire burned in the stove, a
+fire that was not unpleasantly warm to his aged limbs even on this
+summer night. A white cloth covered his formerly bare and uninviting
+table; he was going to have pie, and coffee, and toast and cake for
+supper,--surely the coming of this orphan had been a fortunate thing
+for him, and he slowly chafed his hands as he gazed at the glowing
+bed of coals.
+
+Hank was following 'Tilda Jane from kitchen to pantry, and from
+pantry to kitchen.
+
+"You're getting to be a great housekeeper," he said, admiringly; "but
+we must not forget the schooling. It's a great thing to be educated.
+You can't hold your own in this world unless you know something. You
+wrote me Mrs. Tracy was teaching you some, didn't you?"
+
+'Tilda Jane paused as she filled a sugar-bowl.
+
+"Yes, three evenin's a week. She's a boss--I mean a good teacher. I
+learned some at the 'sylum,--no, the asylum, when I warn't--no, when
+I werent'--no, when I wasn't in the kitchen. And grampa talks to me
+some. He's a fine scholar."
+
+"That's good--get all you can; but three evenings a week ain't
+enough. As soon as I can compass it, I'll have some one to take care
+of father daytimes, and let you go to school."
+
+"To school!" said the little girl, "to learn more--to know how to
+speak proper! Oh, oh, I'm mos' too happy to live! Hank Dillson,
+I think you're the mos' beautiful man that was ever made!" and,
+dropping her sugar-bowl on the shelf, she seized a hand of the
+ex-creamery shark, and warmly pressed it between her little lean
+palms.
+
+Hank, in some embarrassment, murmured, "Oh, fudge, I'm not as good as
+the next one."
+
+"You're a million times better!" exclaimed 'Tilda Jane. "Oh, what
+a glad man Mr. Waysmith will be to have you in his mill! Come now,
+let's have supper. Dear ole grampa mus' get to bed. You wouldn't like
+to kill him with joy the first night you're home."
+
+A few minutes later 'Tilda Jane was beaming behind the big
+coffee-pot. At last she had become a member of a really happy
+family. Her dogs were stretched luxuriously on their rag mat by the
+stove, Grampa, calm and quiet, was sipping his coffee, and listening
+to some of Hank's travelling adventures.
+
+She could not contain her delight. Her heart was too full, and
+presently she burst into low, irrepressible laughter.
+
+Her companions stopped talking and stared at her.
+
+"Oh, I can't help it!" she exclaimed, wildly, "I feel as if I'd
+come through a big sea of troubles to reach the promised land! I'm
+crazy--I'm crazy!" and too excited to keep still she pushed her chair
+aside, and rocked back and forth on her feet.
+
+She saw stretching before her a long vista of happy years--the sight
+was almost too much for her, yet even in her ecstasy she thought of
+other children less fortunate.
+
+"Hank, brother Hank!" she called suddenly, "the Tracys say to pass
+on blessings. All the world ain't joyful like us. When you make a
+little money will you let me write to the lady-boards for another
+orphan,--the ugliest little orphan they've got,--worse than me, if
+it's not unpossible."
+
+"You just write it down that I will," said Hank, gazing kindly and
+benevolently at her flushed face.
+
+"We'll do it," cried 'Tilda Jane. "We'll be good to that other
+orphan. I know they'll have one, but how can I wait? What shall I do?
+I mus' hug some one, I'm so happy!"
+
+She flashed a glance at the dogs. They were sleepy and comfortable.
+"Grampa, I guess it'll have to be you," she said, gaily, and, running
+to the old man, she threw her arms around his wrinkled neck, kissed
+his bald head, and fulfilled her promise of a hugging so vigorously
+that at last he called for mercy.
+
+"Now, I'll go take something," she said, demurely, and, with a last
+caress, "you darlin' ole grampa--I could eat you--Lord, give me a
+thankful heart for all these mercies," then, reverently bending her
+head over her plate, she took up her knife and fork with a long and
+happy sigh.
+
+
+  THE END.
+
+
+
+
+L. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S
+
+Cosy Corner Series
+
+OF
+
+Charming Juveniles
+
+
+Each one volume, 16mo, cloth, Illustrated, 50 cents
+
+
+  =Ole Mammy's Torment.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+  Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.
+
+  =The Little Colonel.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+  Author of "Big Brother."
+
+  =Big Brother.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+  Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.
+
+  =The Gate of the Giant Scissors.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+  Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.
+
+  =Two Little Knights of Kentucky,= who were "The Little Colonel's"
+  neighbors. By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+  A sequel to "The Little Colonel."
+
+  =The Story of Dago.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+  Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.
+
+  =Farmer Brown and the Birds.= By FRANCES MARGARET FOX. A little
+  story which teaches children that the birds are man's best
+  friends.
+
+  =Story of a Short Life.= By JULIANA HORATIA EWING.
+  This beautiful and pathetic story is a part of the world's
+  literature and will never die.
+
+  =Jackanapes.= By JULIANA HORATIA EWING.
+  A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite and
+  touching story, dear alike to young and old.
+
+  =The Little Lame Prince.= By MISS MULOCK.
+  A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by
+  means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.
+
+  =The Adventures of a Brownie.= By MISS MULOCK.
+  The story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener,
+  but is a constant joy and delight to the children.
+
+  =His Little Mother.= By MISS MULOCK.
+  Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant source
+  of delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in this new and
+  attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts of readers.
+
+  =Little Sunshine's Holiday.= By MISS MULOCK.
+  "Little Sunshine" is another of those beautiful child-characters
+  for which Miss Mulock is so justly famous.
+
+  =Wee Dorothy.= By LAURA UPDEGRAFF.
+  A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the
+  eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme.
+
+  =Rab and His Friends.= By Dr. JOHN BROWN.
+  Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known to need
+  description.
+
+  =The Water People.= By CHARLES LEE SLEIGHT.
+  Relating the further adventures of "Harry," the little hero of
+  "The Prince of the Pin Elves."
+
+  =The Prince of the Pin Elves.= By CHAS. LEE SLEIGHT.
+  A fascinating story of the underground adventures of a sturdy,
+  reliant American boy among the elves and gnomes.
+
+  =Helena's Wonderworld.= By FRANCES HODGES WHITE.
+  A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in the
+  mysterious regions beneath the sea.
+
+  =For His Country.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS.
+  A beautiful story of a patriotic little American lad.
+
+  =A Little Puritan's First Christmas.= By EDITH ROBINSON.
+
+  =A Little Daughter of Liberty.= By EDITH ROBINSON.
+  Author of "A Loyal Little Maid," "A Little Puritan Rebel," etc.
+  A true story of the Revolution.
+
+  =A Little Puritan Rebel.= By EDITH ROBINSON.
+  An historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the
+  gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.
+
+  =A Loyal Little Maid.= By EDITH ROBINSON.
+  A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in
+  which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important
+  services to George Washington and Alexander Hamilton.
+
+  =A Dog of Flanders.= A CHRISTMAS STORY. By LOUISE DE LA RAMÉE
+  (Ouida).
+
+  =The Nurnberg Stove.= By LOUISE DE LA RAMÉE (Ouida).
+  This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular
+  price.
+
+  =The King of the Golden River.= A LEGEND OF STIRIA. By JOHN
+  RUSKIN.
+  Written fifty years or more ago, this little fairy tale soon
+  became known and made a place for itself.
+
+  =La Belle Nivernaise.= THE STORY OF AN OLD BOAT AND HER CREW. By
+  ALPHONSE DAUDET.
+  It has been out of print for some time, and is now offered in
+  cheap but dainty form in this new edition.
+
+  =The Young King.= =The Star Child.=
+  Two stories chosen from a recent volume by a gifted author, on
+  account of their rare beauty, great power, and deep significance.
+
+  =A Great Emergency.= By MRS. EWING.
+
+  =The Trinity Flower.= By JULIANA HORATIA EWING.
+  In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. Ewing's best
+  short stories for the young people.
+
+  =The Adventures of Beatrice and Jessie.= By RICHARD MANSFIELD.
+  A bright and amusing story of the strange adventures of two
+  little girls in the "realms of unreality."
+
+  =A Child's Garden of Verses.= By R. L. STEVENSON.
+  This little classic is undoubtedly the best of all volumes of
+  poetry for children.
+
+  =Little King Davie.= By NELLIE HELLIS.
+  It is sufficient to say of this book that it has sold over
+  110,000 copies in England, and consequently should well be worthy
+  of a place in "The Cosy Corner Series."
+
+  =Little Peterkin Vandike.= By CHARLES STUART PRATT.
+  The author's dedication furnishes a key to this charming story.
+  "I dedicate this book, made for the amusement of the boys who may
+  read it, to the memory of one boy, who would have enjoyed as much
+  as Peterkin the plays of the Poetry Party."
+
+  =The Making of Zimri Bunker.= A TALE OF NANTUCKET. By W. J. LONG.
+  The story deals with a sturdy American fisher lad during the war
+  of 1812.
+
+  =The Fortunes of the Fellow.= By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE. A sequel
+  to "The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow."
+
+  =The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.= By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE.
+  This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, will
+  appeal to all that is best in the natures of her many admirers.
+
+  =The Sleeping Beauty.= A MODERN VERSION. By MARTHA B. DUNN.
+  A charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, intellectually
+  "asleep," until she meets the "Fairy Prince."
+
+  =The Young Archer.= By CHARLES E. BRIMBLECOM.
+  A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied Columbus on
+  his voyage to the New World.
+
+
+
+
+NEW JUVENILES
+
+
+Our Devoted Friend
+
+the Dog
+
+BY SARAH K. BOLTON
+
+AUTHOR OF "GIRLS WHO HAVE BECOME FAMOUS," ETC.
+
+_Fully illustrated with many reproductions from original photographs._
+
+1 vol., small quarto, $1.50
+
+
+This book of the dog and his friends does for the canine member of
+the household what Helen M. Winslow's book, "Concerning Cats," did
+for the feline. No one who cares for dogs--and that class includes
+nearly all who do not care for cats, and some who do--will admit that
+the subject of Mrs. Bolton's book is a less felicitous choice than
+that of its predecessor; while the author's well-known ability as a
+writer and lecturer, as well as her sympathy with her subject, are a
+sufficient guarantee of a happy treatment.
+
+
+SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+NEW JUVENILES
+
+
+THE
+
+Rosamond Tales
+
+BY CUYLER REYNOLDS
+
+_With many full-page illustrations from original photographs by
+the author, together with a frontispiece from a drawing by Maud
+Humphreys._
+
+Large 12mo, cloth, $1.50
+
+
+These are just the bedtime stories that children always ask for, but
+do not always get. Rosamond and Rosalind are the hero and heroine
+of many happy adventures in town and on their grandfather's farm;
+and the happy listeners to their story will unconsciously absorb a
+vast amount of interesting knowledge of birds, animals, and flowers,
+just the things about which the curiosity of children from four to
+twelve years old is most insatiable. The book will be a boon to tired
+mothers, as a delight to wide-awake children.
+
+
+SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+NEW JUVENILES
+
+
+THE
+
+Little Cousin Series
+
+BY MARY F. WADE
+
+Four volumes, each illustrated, cloth, 12mo, 60 cents
+
+  VOLUME I.
+  Our Little Japanese Cousin
+
+  VOLUME II.
+  Our Little Brown Cousin
+
+  VOLUME III.
+  Our Little Indian Cousin
+
+  VOLUME IV.
+  Our Little Russian Cousin
+
+
+These are the most interesting and delightful accounts possible of
+child-life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings and
+adventures. The "Little Japanese Cousin," with her toys in her wide
+sleeve and her tiny bag of paper handkerchiefs; the "Little Brown
+Cousin," in whose home the leaves of the breadfruit-tree serve for
+plates and the halves of the cocoanut shells for cups; the "Little
+Indian Cousin," who lives the free life of the forest, and the
+"Little Russian Cousin," who dwells by the wintry Neva, are truly
+fascinating characters to the little cousins who will read about them.
+
+
+SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+NEW JUVENILES
+
+
+THE
+
+Cosy Corner Series
+
+A SERIES OF CHARMING ILLUSTRATED JUVENILES BY WELL-KNOWN AUTHORS
+
+We shall issue ten new volumes in this well-known series of child
+classics, and announce three as follows:
+
+
+A Little Puritan Pioneer
+
+BY EDITH ROBINSON
+
+Author of "A Loyal Little Maid," "A Little Puritan's First
+Christmas," etc.
+
+
+Madam Liberality
+
+BY MRS. EWING
+
+Author of "Jackanapes," "A Great Emergency," "Story of a Short Life,"
+etc., etc.
+
+
+A Bad Penny
+
+BY JOHN T. WHEELWRIGHT
+
+
+The other seven will include new stories by Louise de la Ramée, Miss
+Mulock, Nellie Hellis, Will Allen Dromgoole, etc., etc.
+
+_Forty-four volumes previously published_
+
+
+SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+Selections from
+
+L. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S
+
+Books for Young People
+
+
+  =Old Father Gander:= OR, THE BETTER-HALF OF MOTHER GOOSE. RHYMES,
+  CHIMES, AND JINGLES scratched from his own goose-quill for
+  American Goslings. Illustrated with impossible Geese, hatched and
+  raised by WALTER SCOTT HOWARD.
+
+  1 vol., oblong quarto, cloth decorative      $2.00
+
+  The illustrations are so striking and fascinating that the
+  book will appeal to the young people aside from the fact even
+  of the charm and humor of the songs and rhymes. There are
+  thirty-two full-page plates, of which many are in color. The
+  color illustrations are a distinct and successful departure from
+  the old-fashioned lithographic work hitherto invariably used for
+  children's books.
+
+  =The Crock of Gold:= A NEW BOOK OF FAIRY TALES. By S. BARING
+  GOULD.
+
+  Author of "Mehalah," "Old Country Life," "Old English Fairy
+  Tales," etc. With twenty-five full-page illustrations by F. D.
+  Bedford.
+
+  1 vol., tall 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top      $1.50
+
+  This volume will prove a source of delight to the children of two
+  continents, answering their always increasing demand for "more
+  fairy stories."
+
+  =Shireen and Her Friends:= THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A PERSIAN CAT. By
+  GORDON STABLES.
+
+  Illustrated by Harrison Weir.
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative      $1.25
+
+  A more charming book about animals Dr. Stables himself has not
+  written. It is similar in character to "Black Beauty," "Beautiful
+  Joe," and other books which teach us to love and protect the dumb
+  animals.
+
+  =Bully, Fag, and Hero.= By CHARLES J. MANSFORD.
+
+  With six full-page illustrations by S. H. Vedder.
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top      $1.50
+
+  An interesting story of schoolboy life and adventure in school
+  and during the holidays.
+
+  =The Adventures of a Boy Reporter= IN THE PHILIPPINES. By HARRY
+  STEELE MORRISON.
+
+  Author of "A Yankee Boy's Success."
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated      $1.25
+
+  A true story of the courage and enterprise of an American lad. It
+  is a splendid boys' book, filled with healthy interest, and will
+  tend to stimulate and encourage the proper ambition of the young
+  reader.
+
+  =Tales Told in the Zoo.= By F. C. GOULD.
+
+  With many illustrations from original drawings.
+
+  1 vol., large quarto      $2.00
+
+  A new book for young people on entirely original lines.
+
+  The tales are supposed to be told by an old adjutant stork in
+  the Zoological Gardens to the assembled birds located there, and
+  they deal with legendary and folk-lore stories of the origins of
+  various creatures, mostly birds, and their characteristics.
+
+  =Philip:= THE STORY OF A BOY VIOLINIST. By T. W. O.
+
+  1 vol., 12mo, cloth      $1.00
+
+  The life-story of a boy, reared among surroundings singular
+  enough to awaken interest at the start, is described by the
+  present author as it could be described only by one thoroughly
+  familiar with the scene. The reader is carried from the cottages
+  of the humblest coal-miners into the realms of music and art; and
+  the _finale_ of this charming tale is a masterpiece of pathetic
+  interest.
+
+  =Black Beauty:= THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A HORSE. By ANNA SEWELL.
+  _New Illustrated Edition._
+
+  With twenty-five full-page drawings by Winifred Austin.
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top      $1.25
+
+  There have been many editions of this classic, but we confidently
+  offer this one as the most appropriate and handsome yet produced.
+  The illustrations are of special value and beauty, and should
+  make this the standard edition wherever illustrations worthy of
+  the story are desired.
+
+  =The Voyage of the Avenger:= IN THE DAYS OF THE DASHING DRAKE. By
+  HENRY ST. JOHN.
+
+  Author of "A Middy of Nelson's Day," etc. With twenty-five
+  full-page illustrations by Paul Hardy.
+
+  1 vol., tall 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 400 pages      $1.50
+
+  A book of adventure, the scene of which is laid in that stirring
+  period of colonial extension when England's famous naval heroes
+  encountered the ships of Spain, both at home and in the West
+  Indies. Mr. St. John has given his boy readers a rattling good
+  story of the sea. There is plenty of adventure, sufficient in
+  fact to keep a boy fixed near the fireside until the last page is
+  reached.
+
+  =A Child's History of Spain.= By LEONARD WILLIAMS.
+
+  Author of "Ballads and Songs of Spain," etc.
+
+  1 vol., small 12mo, with frontispiece, cloth, gilt top      $0.75
+
+  Although the recent war with Spain has aroused general interest
+  and caused a great demand for literature relating to the subject,
+  there has not as yet been published a condensed history of
+  Spain for young people. Mr. Williams's little book will prove a
+  desirable addition to the children's historical library.
+
+  =Fairy Folk from Far and Near.= By A. C. WOOLF, M. A.
+
+  With numerous full-page color illustrations by Hans Reitz.
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative      $1.50
+
+  It is long since there has appeared such a thoroughly delightful
+  volume of fairy tales as that of Annie C. Woolf. An added
+  attraction to the book is found in the exquisite colored
+  illustrations, the work of Hans Reitz. As a Christmas gift-book
+  to children, these tales will be hard to excel.
+
+  =The Magnet Stories.= By LYNDE PALMER.
+
+  A new edition; new binding and larger size volume, 5 vols., 12mo.
+  Reduced price.
+
+  Drifting and Steering      $1.00
+  One Day's Weaving           1.00
+  Archie's Shadow             1.00
+  John-Jack                   1.00
+  Jeannette's Cisterns        1.00
+
+
+
+
+NEW JUVENILES
+
+
+THE
+
+Woodranger Tales
+
+  VOLUME III.
+  The Hero of the Hills
+  BY G. WALDO BROWNE
+
+  VOLUME I.
+  The Woodranger
+  BY G. WALDO BROWNE
+
+  VOLUME II.
+  The Young Gunbearer
+  BY G. WALDO BROWNE
+
+Each large 12mo, cloth, fully illustrated, $1.00
+
+
+There is the reality of history behind these stories, the successful
+series of "Woodranger Tales," the scope and trend of which are
+accurately set forth in the title. While full of adventure, the
+interest in which sometimes rises to the pitch of excitement, the
+stories are not sensational, for Mr. Browne writes with dignity, if
+with liveliness. The books will not fail to interest any lively,
+wholesome-minded boy.
+
+
+SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+NEW JUVENILES
+
+
+Prince Harold
+
+A FAIRY STORY
+
+BY L. F. BROWN
+
+_With ninety full-page illustrations_
+
+Large 12mo, cloth, $1.50
+
+
+A delightful fairy tale for children, dealing with the life of a
+charming young Prince, who, aided by the Moon Spirit, discovers,
+after many adventures, a beautiful girl whom he makes his Princess.
+He is so enamored that he dwells with his bride in complete seclusion
+for a while, entrusting the conduct of his kingdom meantime to his
+monkey servant, Longtail. The latter marries a monkey princess from
+Amfalulu, and their joint reign is described with the drollest humor.
+The real rulers finally return and upset the reign of the pretenders.
+An original and fascinating story for young people.
+
+
+SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+L. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S
+
+Gift Book Series
+
+FOR
+
+Boys and Girls
+
+
+Each one volume, tall 12mo, cloth, Illustrated, $1.00
+
+
+  =The Little Colonel's House Party.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+
+  Author of "Little Colonel," etc. Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
+
+  Mrs. Johnston has endeared herself to the children by her
+  charming little books published in the Cosy Corner Series.
+  Accordingly, a longer story by her will be eagerly welcomed by
+  the little ones who have so much enjoyed each story from her pen.
+
+  =Chums.= By MARIA LOUISE POOL.
+
+  Author of "Little Bermuda," etc. Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman.
+
+  "Chums" is a girls' book, about girls and for girls. It relates
+  the adventures, in school, and during vacation, of two friends.
+
+  =Three Little Crackers.= FROM DOWN IN DIXIE. By WILL ALLEN
+  DROMGOOLE.
+
+  Author of "The Farrier's Dog." A fascinating story for boys and
+  girls, of the adventures of a family of Alabama children who move
+  to Florida and grow up in the South.
+
+  =Miss Gray's Girls:= OR, SUMMER DAYS IN THE SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS.
+  By JEANNETTE A. GRANT.
+
+  A delightfully told story of a summer trip through Scotland,
+  somewhat out of the beaten track. A teacher, starting at Glasgow,
+  takes a lively party of girls, her pupils, through the Trossachs
+  to Oban, through the Caledonian Canal to Inverness, and as far
+  north as Brora.
+
+  =King Pippin:= A STORY FOR CHILDREN. By MRS. GERARD FORD.
+
+  Author of "Pixie."
+
+  One of the most charming books for young folks which has been
+  issued for some time. The hero is a lovable little fellow, whose
+  frank and winning ways disarm even the crustiest of grandmothers,
+  and win for him the affection of all manner of unlikely people.
+
+  =Feats on the Fiord:= A TALE OF NORWEGIAN LIFE. By HARRIET
+  MARTINEAU.
+
+  This admirable book, read and enjoyed by so many young people,
+  deserves to be brought to the attention of parents in search of
+  wholesome reading for their children to-day. It is something more
+  than a juvenile book, being really one of the most instructive
+  books about Norway and Norwegian life and manners ever written.
+
+  =Songs and Rhymes for the Little Ones.= Compiled by MARY WHITNEY
+  MORRISON (Jenny Wallis).
+
+  New edition, with an introduction by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney.
+
+  No better description of this admirable book can be given than
+  Mrs. Whitney's happy introduction:
+
+  "One might almost as well offer June roses with the assurance
+  of their sweetness, as to present this lovely little gathering
+  of verse, which announces itself, like them, by its own
+  deliciousness. Yet, as Mrs. Morrison's charming volume has long
+  been a delight to me, I am only too happy to declare that it
+  is to me--and to two families of my grandchildren--the most
+  bewitching book of songs for little people that we have ever
+  known."
+
+  =The Young Pearl Divers:= A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN ADVENTURE BY LAND
+  AND BY SEA. By LIEUT. H. PHELPS WHITMARSH.
+
+  This is a splendid story for boys, by an author who writes in
+  vigorous and interesting language, of scenes and adventures with
+  which he is personally acquainted.
+
+  =The Woodranger.= By G. WALDO BROWNE.
+
+  The first of a series of five volumes entitled "The Woodranger
+  Tales."
+
+  Although based strictly on historical facts the book is an
+  interesting and exciting tale of adventure, which will delight
+  all boys, and be by no means unwelcome to their elders.
+
+  =Three Children of Galilee:= A LIFE OF CHRIST FOR THE YOUNG. By
+  JOHN GORDON.
+
+  There has long been a need for a Life of Christ for the young,
+  and this book has been written in answer to this demand. That it
+  will meet with great favor is beyond question, for parents have
+  recognized that their boys and girls want something more than a
+  Bible story, a dry statement of facts, and that, in order to hold
+  the attention of the youthful readers, a book on this subject
+  should have life and movement as well as scrupulous accuracy and
+  religious sentiment.
+
+  =Little Bermuda.= By MARIA LOUISE POOL.
+
+  Author of "Dally," "A Redbridge Neighborhood," "In a Dike
+  Shanty," "Friendship and Folly," etc.
+
+  The adventures of "Little Bermuda" from her home in the tropics
+  to a fashionable American boarding-school. The resulting conflict
+  between the two elements in her nature, the one inherited from
+  her New England ancestry, and the other developed by her West
+  Indian surroundings, gave Miss Pool unusual opportunity for
+  creating an original and fascinating heroine.
+
+  =The Wild Ruthvens:= A HOME STORY. By CURTIS YORK.
+
+  A story illustrating the mistakes, failures, and successes of
+  a family of unruly but warm-hearted boys and girls. They are
+  ultimately softened and civilized by the influence of an invalid
+  cousin, Dick Trevanion, who comes to live with them.
+
+  =The Adventures of a Siberian Cub.= Translated from the Russian
+  of Slibitski by LEON GOLSCHMANN.
+
+  This is indeed a book which will be hailed with delight,
+  especially by children who love to read about animals. The
+  interesting and pathetic adventures of the orphan-bear, Mishook,
+  will appeal to old and young in much the same way as have "Black
+  Beauty" and "Beautiful Joe."
+
+  =Timothy Dole.= By JUNIATA SALSBURY.
+
+  The youthful hero, and a genuine hero he proves to be, starts
+  from home, loses his way, meets with startling adventures, finds
+  friends, kind and many, and grows to be a manly man. It is a
+  wholesome and vigorous book, that boys and girls, and parents as
+  well, will read and enjoy.
+
+
+
+
+  TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
+
+  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
+
+  Bold text is denoted by =equal signs=.
+
+  Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
+  corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
+  the text and consultation of external sources.
+
+  Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
+  and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. For example:
+  writing-pad, writing pad; cocoanut; curtsey; beshawled.
+
+  Pg 38, 'Onct our washerwoman' replaced by 'Once our washerwoman'.
+  Pg 38, 'Onct I took' replaced by 'Once I took'.
+  Pg 42, 'Onct when cats come' replaced by 'Once when cats come'.
+  Pg 90, 'dare the undarable' replaced by 'dare the undareable'.
+  Pg 163, 'only onct a day?' replaced by 'only once a day?'.
+  Pg 180, 'onct have blue eyes' replaced by 'once have blue eyes'.
+  Pg 269, "You mus' he" replaced by "You mus' be".
+
+  Publisher's Book Catalog:
+  In the Cosy Corner Series, 'and announce four' replaced by 'and
+  announce three'.
+
+  A page from 'Gift Series for Boys and Girls' has been moved to its
+  proper position at the end of that section. This page described
+  'Three Children of Galilee' through 'Timothy Dole'.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of 'Tilda Jane, by Marshall Saunders
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52018 ***
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-<pre>

-

-The Project Gutenberg EBook of 'Tilda Jane, by Marshall Saunders

-

-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

-almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license

-

-

-Title: 'Tilda Jane

-       An Orphan in Search of a Home

-

-Author: Marshall Saunders

-

-Illustrator: Clifford Carleton

-

-Release Date: May 7, 2016 [EBook #52018]

-

-Language: English

-

-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

-

-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 'TILDA JANE ***

-

-

-

-

-Produced by David Edwards, John Campbell and the Online

-Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This

-file was produced from images generously made available

-by The Internet Archive)

-

-

-

-

-

-

-</pre>

-

-

-

-<div class="transnote">

-<p><strong>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</strong></p>

-

-<p>Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been

-corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within

-the text and consultation of external sources.</p>

-

-<p>More detail can be found at the <a href="#TN">end of the book.</a></p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="600" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-

-<hr class="chap pg-brk" />

-<p class="p6" />

-<h1>'TILDA JANE</h1>

-<p class="p6" />

-

-

-<hr class="chap pg-brk" />

-<p class="p6" />

-<div class="bbox">

-

-<p class="pfs90">Works of</p>

-

-<p class="pfs120">Marshall Saunders</p>

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-<p>Rose à Charlitte</p>

-<p>Her Sailor</p>

-<p>Deficient Saints</p>

-<p class="negin1x">For His Country and Grandmother and <br />

-the Crow</p>

-<p>'Tilda Jane</p>

-

-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20px;">

-<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" height="22" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-<p class="pfs90">L. C. PAGE &amp; COMPANY,</p>

-

-<p class="pfs90">Publishers</p>

-

-<p class="pfs90">200 Summer Street, Boston, Mass.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="figcenter pg-brk">

-<a name="FP" id="FP"></a>

-<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="500" alt="" />

-<div class="caption">"SHE SPELLED OUT THE INFORMATION, 'I AM AN ORPHAN.'"

-<p class="right padr6">(<em>See <a href="#Page_80">page 80</a></em>)</p>

-</div>

-</div>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p class="p4" />

-<div class="tpage">

-

-<p class="xxl lsp">'TILDA JANE</p>

-

-<p class="large">AN ORPHAN IN SEARCH OF A HOME</p>

-<br />

-<p class="medium"><em>A Story for Boys and Girls</em></p>

-<br />

-

-<p>

-<span class="xs">BY</span><br />

-<span class="large lsp">MARSHALL SAUNDERS</span><br />

-<span class="xs wsp">AUTHOR OF "BEAUTIFUL JOE," "FOR HIS COUNTRY,"<br />

-"ROSE À CHARLITTE," "HER SAILOR,"<br />

-"DEFICIENT SAINTS," ETC.</span></p>

-<br />

-

-<p class="antiqua">Illustrated by</p>

-<p>CLIFFORD CARLETON</p>

-<p class="small"><em>By courtesy of The Youth's Companion</em></p>

-<br />

-

-<p><span class="small">"My brother, when thou seest a poor man,<br />

-behold in him a mirror of the Lord."<br />

-<span class="pad6 smcap">&mdash;St. Francis of Assisi.</span></span></p>

-<br />

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-<img src="images/colophon.jpg" width="100" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-<br />

-<p>BOSTON</p>

-<p class="medium wsp">L. C. PAGE &amp; COMPANY</p>

-<p class="medium">1901</p>

-</div>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<div class="p6"></div>

-<div class="tpage">

-

-<p>

-<em>Copyright, 1901</em><br />

-<span class="smcap">By Perry Mason Company</span><br />

-<br />

-<em>Copyright, 1901</em><br />

-<span class="smcap">By L. C. Page &amp; Company</span><br />

-(Incorporated)<br />

-<br />

-<em>All rights reserved</em><br />

-</p>

-

-<div class="p6"></div>

-<p class="antiqua">Colonial Press</p>

-<p class="fs80">Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds &amp; Co.<br />

-Boston, Mass., U. S. A.</p>

-</div>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<div class="p6"></div>

-<div class="tpage wsp">

-

-<p>

-<span class="xs">I DEDICATE THIS STORY TO</span><br />

-<span class="small">EMILE HUGUENIN, JEAN BRUN,<br />

-GERALD MUIR, SANFORD ROTHENBURG,<br />

-HARRY KRUGER, MAUGHS BROWN,</span><br />

-<span class="xs">AND</span><br />

-<span class="small">ROBBIE MACLEAN,</span><br />

-<span class="xs">BOYS OF BELMONT SCHOOL WHO USED TO GATHER ROUND ME<br />

-ON SUNDAY AFTERNOONS AND BEG FOR A MANUSCRIPT<br />

-READING OF THE TRIALS OF MY ORPHAN<br />

-IN SEARCH OF A HOME.</span>

-</p>

-</div>

-

-

-<p class="p6" />

-<hr class="chap pg-brk" />

-<p class="p6" />

-

-<div class="blockquot fs90">

-

-<p><em>Owing to the exigencies of serial publication, the story of

-"'Tilda Jane," as it appeared in The Youth's Companion, was

-somewhat condensed. In the present version the omitted portions

-have been restored, and the story published in its original

-form.</em></p></div>

-

-

-<p class="p6" />

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p class="p6" />

-

-<h2 class="xl"><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</a></h2>

-<hr class="r10" />

-

-<div class="center smcap">

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="90%" summary="Table of Contents">

-<tr><td class="tdr xs">CHAPTER</td><td></td><td class="tdr xs">PAGE</td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td><td class="tdl">A Creamery Shark</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td><td class="tdl">Even Sharks Have Tender Hearts</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td><td class="tdl">The Story of Her Life</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td><td class="tdl">Unstable as Water</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td><td class="tdl">Another Adventure</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td><td class="tdl">Deaf and Dumb</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td><td class="tdl">Clearing up a Mistake</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td><td class="tdl">A Third Running Away</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td><td class="tdl">Lost in the Woods</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td><td class="tdl">Among Friends</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td><td class="tdl">A Sudden Resolution</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XII.</td><td class="tdl">Farewell to the Poachers</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XIII.</td><td class="tdl">An Attempted Trick</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XIV.</td><td class="tdl">Home, Sweet Home</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XV.</td><td class="tdl">The French Family</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XVI.</td><td class="tdl">The Tiger in His Lair</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XVII.</td><td class="tdl">The Tiger Makes a Spring</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XVIII.</td><td class="tdl">In Search of a Perfect Man</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XIX.</td><td class="tdl">Sweet and Soft Repentance</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XX.</td><td class="tdl">Waiting</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XXI.</td><td class="tdl">The Tiger Becomes a Lamb</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XXII.</td><td class="tdl">A Troubled Mind</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XXIII.</td><td class="tdl">An Unexpected Appearance</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdr">XXIV.</td><td class="tdl">A Friend in Need</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td></tr>

-</table></div>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p class="p6" />

-

-<h2 class="xl"><a name="LOI" id="LOI">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</a></h2>

-<hr class="r10" />

-

-<div class="center smcap">

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="90%" summary="List of Illustrations">

-<tr><td class="tdl"></td><td class="tdr xs">PAGE</td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">"She spelled out the information, 'I am an orphan'" (<em><span class="fvnormal">See <a href="#Page_80">page 80</a></span></em>)</td><td class="tdr"><em><span class="fvnormal"><a href="#FP">Frontispiece</a></span></em></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">"'Well, I vum!'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p015">15</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">"'Tilda Jane sat like a statue"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p045">45</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">"'I'm goin' to repent some day'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p092">92</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">"He lay down beside her"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p116">116</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">"'Stop thar&mdash;stop! Stop!'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p168">168</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">"'You are young for that, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>, yet&mdash;'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p190">190</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">"He lifted up his voice and roared at her"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p215">215</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">"'I've led another dog astray, an' now he's dead'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p235">235</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">"'They was glad to get rid of me'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p258">258</a></td></tr>

-</table></div>

-

-

-<hr class="chap pg-brk" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>

-

-<p class="pfs240">'TILDA JANE.</p>

-<hr class="r10" />

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER I.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">A CREAMERY SHARK.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>The crows had come back. With the fashionables

-of Maine they had gone south for the winter,

-but now on the third day of March the advance

-guard of the solemn, black army soared in sight.</p>

-

-<p>They were cawing over the green pine woods of

-North Marsden, they were cawing over the black

-spruces of South Marsden, and in Middle Marsden,

-where the sun had melted the snow on a few

-exposed knolls, they were having a serious and

-chattering jubilation over their return to their summer

-haunts.</p>

-

-<p>"Land! ain't they sweet!" muttered a little girl,

-who was herself almost as elfish and impish as a

-crow. She stood with clasped hands in the midst

-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>

-of a spruce thicket. Her face was upturned to the

-hot sun set in the hard blue of the sky. The sun

-burned her, the wind chilled her, but she remained

-motionless, except when the sound of sleigh-bells was

-heard. Then she peered eagerly out into the road.</p>

-

-<p>Time after time she returned to her hiding-place

-with a muttered, "No good!" She allowed a priest

-to go by, two gossiping women on their way from

-the village to spend a day in the country, a minister

-hurrying to the sick-bed of a parishioner, and

-several loaded wood-sleds, but finally a hilarious

-jingle drew her hopefully from her retreat.</p>

-

-<p>Her small black eyes screwed themselves into two

-glittering points as she examined the newcomer.</p>

-

-<p>"He'll do!" she ejaculated; then, with a half-caressing,

-half-threatening, "You'll get murdered if

-there's a word out o' you," addressed to an apparent

-roll of cloth tucked among spruce branches a few

-feet from the ground, she stepped out by the

-snake fence.</p>

-

-<p>"Hello, mister!"</p>

-

-<p>The fat young man bobbing over the "thank-you-ma'ams"

-of the snowy road, pulled himself up with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>

-a jerk in his small sleigh drawn by a long-legged

-mare.</p>

-

-<p>"Coronation! Where did that noise come from?

-Hello, wood-lark," as he observed the little girl peeping

-at him through the fence, "is there a hawk in

-your nest?"</p>

-

-<p>"Who be you?" she asked.</p>

-

-<p>"I've got an awful pretty name," he replied, flicking

-his whip over the snow-bank beside him, "too

-pretty to tell."</p>

-

-<p>"Who be you?" she asked, pertinaciously.</p>

-

-<p>"Ever hear tell of a creamery shark?"</p>

-

-<p>"I didn't know as sharks favoured cream," she

-said, soberly.</p>

-

-<p>"They dote on it."</p>

-

-<p>"Be you a creamery shark?"</p>

-

-<p>"No&mdash;course not. I'm chasing one. I'm a

-farmer."</p>

-

-<p>The small, keen-eyed girl looked him all over.

-He was the creamery shark himself, and he certainly

-had an oily, greasy appearance befitting his

-fondness for cream. However, she did not care

-what he was if he served her purpose.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Will you gimme a lift?" she asked.</p>

-

-<p>"A lift&mdash;where?"</p>

-

-<p>"Anywhere out o' this," and she pointed back to

-the smart, white village up the river.</p>

-

-<p>"Now what be you?" he said, cunningly.</p>

-

-<p>"I be a runaway."</p>

-

-<p>"What you running from?"</p>

-

-<p>"I'm a-runnin' from an orphan 'sylum."</p>

-

-<p>"Good for you&mdash;where you going?"</p>

-

-<p>"I'm goin' to Orstralia."</p>

-

-<p>"Better for you&mdash;what you going there

-for?"</p>

-

-<p>"'Cause," she said, firmly, "they know how

-to treat orphans there. They don't shut 'em

-up together like a lot o' sick pigs. They scatter

-'em in families. The gover'ment pays their

-keep till they get old enough to fend for themselves.

-Then they gets a sum o' money an' they

-works&mdash;I heard a lady-board readin' it in a newspaper."</p>

-

-<p>"A lady-board?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes&mdash;lady-boards has to run 'sylums."</p>

-

-<p>"Course they do. Well, skip in, little un."</p>

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-<a name="p015" id="p015"></a>

-<img src="images/p015.jpg" width="475" alt="" />

-<div class="caption">"'WELL, I VUM!'"</div>

-<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>

-</div>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"There's another passenger," she said, firmly;

-"an' them as takes me takes him."</p>

-

-<p>"Have you got your granddaddy along?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, siree, but I've got somethin' mos' as good

-as a granddaddy, an' I'd thank you to keep a straight

-tongue when you speak of him."</p>

-

-<p>The young man put the offending tongue in his

-cheek, and chuckled enjoyably as the small, elfish

-figure disappeared in the wood. Presently she

-returned with a good-sized bundle in her arms, that

-she thrust through the fence.</p>

-

-<p>"Give it a name," said the young man; "why,

-see how it's wiggling&mdash;must be some kind of an

-animal. Cat, weasel, rabbit, hen, dog&mdash;"</p>

-

-<p>"Stop there," she ejaculated; "let it be dog.

-His name's Gippie."</p>

-

-<p>"Well, I vum!" the young man said, good-naturedly,

-as she approached the sleigh and deposited

-her beshawled dog on his knees.</p>

-

-<p>"I guess this sleigh warn't built for two," she

-said, as she crawled in beside him.</p>

-

-<p>"Right you are; but you don't want to be carted

-far."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Gimme that dog," she said, taking the bundle,

-"an' start off. Prob'ly they're just hitchin' up to

-be after me."</p>

-

-<p>He clicked his tongue to the long-legged mare,

-and speedily fences and trees began to fly by

-them.</p>

-

-<p>"What did you twig me for?" asked the fat

-young man. "Ain't you had no other chance?"</p>

-

-<p>"Lots," she said, briefly.</p>

-

-<p>"There was an ole boy ahead o' me with a two-seated

-rig, an' a youngster on the back seat. Why

-didn't you freeze on to him?"</p>

-

-<p>She turned her little dark face toward him, a little

-face overspread by sudden passion. "D'ye know

-what that ole shell-back would 'a' done?"</p>

-

-<p>"He'd 'a' took ye in."</p>

-

-<p>"He'd 'a' druv me back to that 'sylum. He looked

-too good, that one. You looked like a baddie."</p>

-

-<p>"Much obliged," he said, dryly.</p>

-

-<p>"I guess you've done bad things," she said, inexorably.

-"You've stole pies, an' tole lies, an' fed

-dogs an' cats on the sly. I guess you've been found

-out."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>The fat young man fell into a sudden reverie,

-and they passed several white fields in silence.</p>

-

-<p>"They'll never ketch me," she said at last, gleefully;

-"we're goin' like the wind."</p>

-

-<p>The young man looked down at her. She had

-the appearance of a diminutive witch as she sat with

-one hand clasping her faded hat, the other holding

-firmly to the bundle on her lap. Her countenance

-was so much older and shrewder in some phases than

-in others that the young man was puzzled to guess

-her age.</p>

-

-<p>"Why, you ain't got any cloak," he said.

-"That's nothing but a dress you've got on, ain't

-it? Take the shawl off that dog."</p>

-

-<p>"No, sir," she said, decidedly, "I don't do that."</p>

-

-<p>"Hold on; I've got a horse blanket here," and he

-dived under the seat. "There!" and he wrapped it

-around her shoulders.</p>

-

-<p>"Thanks," she said, briefly, and again her bird-like

-eyes scanned the road ahead.</p>

-

-<p>"Hot cakes an' syrup!" she exclaimed, in a voice

-of resigned distress, "there's the North Marsden

-lady-board comin'. They must have 'phoned her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>

-Say, mister, lemme sneak under here. If she holes

-you up, you'll have to tell a lie."</p>

-

-<p>The young man grinned delightedly as the little

-girl slipped through the blanket and disappeared

-under the lap-robe. Then he again went skimming

-over the snow.</p>

-

-<p>There was a very grand sleigh approaching him,

-with a befurred coachman on the seat driving a pair

-of roan horses, and behind him a gray-haired lady

-smothered in handsome robes.</p>

-

-<p>"Please stop!" she called pathetically, to the

-approaching young man.</p>

-

-<p>The creamery shark pulled up his mare, and

-blinked thoughtfully at her.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, have you seen a little girl?" she said excitedly;

-"a poor little girl, very thin and miserable,

-and with a lame, brown dog limping after her?

-She's wandering somewhere&mdash;the unfortunate,

-misguided child. We have had such trouble with

-her at the Middle Marsden Asylum&mdash;the orphan

-asylum, you know. We have fed her and clothed

-her, and now she's run away."</p>

-

-<p>The fat young man became preternaturally solemn,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>

-the more so as he heard a low growl somewhere in

-the region of his feet.</p>

-

-<p>"Did she have black hair as lanky as an Injun's?"

-he asked.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, yes."</p>

-

-<p>"And a kind o' sickly green dress?"</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, yes, and a dark complexion."</p>

-

-<p>"And a sort of steely air as if she'd dare the

-world?"</p>

-

-<p>"That's it; oh, yes, she wasn't afraid of any one."</p>

-

-<p>"Then I've sighted your game," he said, gravely,

-very gravely, considering that the "game" was

-pinching one of his legs.</p>

-

-<p>"I'll give you the scent," he went on. "Just

-follow this road till you come to the three pine-trees

-at the cross. Then turn toward Spruceville."</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, thank you, thank you. I'm ever so much

-obliged. But was she on foot or driving?"</p>

-

-<p>"Driving like sixty, sitting up on the seat beside

-a smooth old farmer with a red wig on, and a face as

-long as a church."</p>

-

-<p>"A red wig!" exclaimed the lady. "Why, that's

-Mr. Dabley&mdash;he's one of our advisory committee."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Dabley or Grabley, he's driving with one of your

-orphans. I see her as plain as day sitting beside

-him&mdash;brown face, faded black hat, sickly green

-frock, bundle on her lap."</p>

-

-<p>"Farmer Dabley&mdash;incredible! How one can be

-deceived. Drive on, Matthew. We must try to

-overtake them. Had he one horse or two?"</p>

-

-<p>"A pair, ma'am&mdash;a light-legged team&mdash;a bay

-and a cream. He's a regular old sport."</p>

-

-<p>"He's a Mephistopheles if he's helping that child

-to escape," said the lady, warmly. "I'll give him a

-piece of my mind."</p>

-

-<p>Her coachman started his horses, and the little

-girl under the robe was beginning to breathe freely

-when a shout from the young man brought her heart

-to her mouth.</p>

-

-<p>"Say, ma'am, was that a striped or a plain shawl

-she had her dog wrapped in?"</p>

-

-<p>"Striped&mdash;she had the impudence to steal it

-from the matron, and leave a note saying she did it

-because her jacket was locked up, and she was afraid

-her dog would freeze&mdash;I'm under a great obligation

-to you, sir."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"No obligation," he said, lifting his hat. "I'm

-proud to set you on the chase after such a bad young

-one. That's your girl, ma'am. Her shawl was

-striped. I didn't tell you she had the nerve to ask

-me to take her in."</p>

-

-<p>"Not really&mdash;did she?" the lady called back;

-then she added, wonderingly, "but I thought you

-met her driving with Farmer Dabley?"</p>

-

-<p>They had both turned around, and were talking

-over their shoulders.</p>

-

-<p>There was a terrible commotion under the lap-robe,

-and the young man felt that he must be brief.</p>

-

-<p>"If you bark I'll break your neck," he heard the

-refugee say in a menacing whisper, and, to cover a

-series of protesting growls, he shouted, lustily, "Yes,

-ma'am, but first I passed her on foot. Then I

-turned back, and she was with the farmer. That

-young one has got the face of a government mule,

-but I'm used to mules, and when she asked me I

-said, ''Pears to me, little girl, you favour a runaway,

-and I ain't got no room for runaways in this narrow

-rig, 'specially as I'm taking a bundle of clothing to

-my dear old father'&mdash;likewise a young pig," he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>

-added, as there was a decided squeal from between

-his feet.</p>

-

-<p>"Thank you, thank you," came faintly after him

-as he started off at a spanking gait, and, "You're

-badder than I thought you was," came reproachfully

-from the tumbled head peeping above the lap-robe.</p>

-

-<p>"You're grateful!" he said, ironically.</p>

-

-<p>"I'm bad, but I only asked the Lord to forgive

-the lies I'd got to tell," said the little girl as she

-once more established herself on the seat. "You

-should 'a' said, 'No, ma'am, I didn't see the little

-girl'&mdash;an' druv on."</p>

-

-<p>"I guess you're kind of mixed in your opinions,"

-he remarked.</p>

-

-<p>"I ain't mixed in my mind. I see things as

-straight as that air road," she replied. "I said,

-'This is a bad business, for I've got to run away,

-but I'll be as square as I can.'"</p>

-

-<p>She paused suddenly, and her companion asked,

-"What's up with you?"</p>

-

-<p>"Nothin'," she said, faintly, "only I feel as if

-there was a rat inside o' me. You ain't got any

-crackers round, have you?"</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"No, but I've got something better," and he drew

-a flask from the pocket of his big ulster and put it

-to her mouth.</p>

-

-<p>Her nostrils dilated. "I'm a Loyal Legion girl."</p>

-

-<p>"Loyal Legion&mdash;what's that?"</p>

-

-<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry">

-<p class="verseq">"Beware of bottles, beware of cups,</p>

-<p class="verse">Evil to him who evil sups."</p>

-</div></div>

-

-<p>"Oh! a temperance crank," and he laughed.

-"Well, here's a hunk of cake I put in my pocket

-last night."</p>

-

-<p>The little girl ate with avidity the section of a

-rich fruit loaf he handed her.</p>

-

-<p>"How about your dog?" asked the young

-man.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, I guess he ain't hungry," she said, putting

-a morsel against the brown muzzle thrust from the

-shawl. "Everythin' was locked up last night, an'

-there warn't enough lunch for him an' me&mdash;see, he

-ain't for it. He knows when hunger stops an' greed

-begins. That's poetry they taught us."</p>

-

-<p>"Tell us about that place you've been raised.

-No, stop&mdash;you're kind of peaked-looking. Settle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>

-down an' rest yourself till we pull up for dinner. I'll

-gabble on a bit if you'll give me a starter."</p>

-

-<p>"I guess you favour birds an' things, don't you?"

-she observed, shrewdly.</p>

-

-<p>"Yaw&mdash;do you?"</p>

-

-<p>"Sometimes I think I'm a bird," she said, vehemently,

-"or a worm or somethin'. If I could 'a'

-caught one o' them crows this mornin' I'd 'a' hugged

-it an' kissed it. Ain't they lovely?"</p>

-

-<p>"Well, I don' know about lovely," said the young

-man, in a judicial manner, "but the crow, as I take

-him, is a kind of long-suffering orphan among birds.

-From the minute the farmers turn up these furrows

-under the snow, the crow works like fury. Grubs

-just fly down his red throat, and grasshoppers

-ain't nowhere, but because he now and then lifts

-a hill o' petetters, and pulls a mite o' corn when it

-gets toothsome, and makes way once in so often

-with a fat chicken that's a heap better out o' the

-world than in it, the farmers is down on him, the

-Legislature won't protect him, and the crow&mdash;man's

-good friend&mdash;gets shot by everybody and

-everything!"</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"I wish I was a queen," said the little girl,

-passionately.</p>

-

-<p>"Well, sissy, if you ever get to be one, just unmake

-a few laws that are passed to please the

-men who have a pull. Here in Maine you might

-take the bounty off bob-cats, an' let 'em have their

-few sheep, an' you might stand between the mink

-and the spawning trout, and if you want to put a

-check on the robins who make war on the cherries

-an' strawberries, I guess it would be more sensible

-than chasing up the crows."</p>

-

-<p>"I'm remarkin' that you don't beat your horse,"

-said his companion, abruptly.</p>

-

-<p>"That mare," said the young man, reflectively,

-"is as smart as I be, and sometimes I think a

-thought smarter."</p>

-

-<p>"You wouldn't beat that little dog," she said,

-holding up her bundle.</p>

-

-<p>"Bet your striped shawl I wouldn't."</p>

-

-<p>"I like you," she said, emphatically. "I guess

-you ain't as bad as you look."</p>

-

-<p>The young man frowned slightly, and fell into

-another reverie.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER II.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">EVEN SHARKS HAVE TENDER HEARTS.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>The old Moss Glen Inn, elm-shaded and half covered

-by creeping vines, is a favourite resort for travellers

-in the eastern part of Maine, for there a good

-dinner can be obtained in a shorter space of time

-than in any other country hotel in the length and

-breadth of the State.</p>

-

-<p>"And all because there's a smart woman at the

-head of it," explained the young man to the

-little waif beside him. "There she is&mdash;always on

-hand."</p>

-

-<p>A round, good-natured face, crowning a rotund,

-generous figure, smiled at them from the kitchen

-window, but while the eyes smiled, the thick, full

-lips uttered a somewhat different message to a tall,

-thin woman, bending over the stove.</p>

-

-<p>"Ruth Ann, here's that soapy Hank Dillson round

-again,&mdash;takin' in the farmers, as usual, engagin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>

-them to pay for machinery and buildings more than

-are needed, considerin' the number of their cows, an'

-he's got a washed-out lookin' young one with him.

-She'll make a breach in the victuals, I guess."</p>

-

-<p>Ruth Ann, who was her sister and helper in

-household affairs, came and looked over her shoulder,

-just as Dillson sprang from the sleigh.</p>

-

-<p>Mrs. Minley stepped to the door, and stood bobbing

-and smiling as he turned to her.</p>

-

-<p>"How de do, Mrs. Minley. Give this little girl a

-place to lie down till dinner's ready, will you? She's

-dead beat."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane walked gravely into the kitchen, and

-although her head was heavy, and her feet as light as

-if they were about to waft her to regions above, she

-took time to scrutinise the broad face that would

-have been generous but for the deceitful lips, and

-also to cast a glance at the hard, composed woman at

-the window, who looked as if her head, including the

-knob of tightly curled hair at the back, had been

-carved from flint.</p>

-

-<p>"Step right in this way," said Mrs. Minley, bustling

-into a small bedroom on the ground floor.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane was not used to being waited on, and

-for one proud moment she wished that the children

-in the orphan asylum could see her. Then a feeling

-of danger and insecurity overcame her, and she sank

-on one of the painted, wooden chairs.</p>

-

-<p>"You're done out," said Mrs. Minley, sympathetically.

-"Are you a relation of Mr. Dillson's?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, I ain't."</p>

-

-<p>"You can lie on that bed if you like," said

-Mrs. Minley, noticing the longing glance cast

-at it.</p>

-

-<p>"Well, I guess I will," said 'Tilda Jane, placing

-her bundle on a chair, and stooping down to unloose

-her shoes.</p>

-

-<p>"Stop till I get some newspapers to put on the

-bed," said the landlady&mdash;"what's in that package?

-It's moving," and she stared at the shawl.</p>

-

-<p>"It's a dog."</p>

-

-<p>"Mercy me! I don't allow no dogs in my

-house."</p>

-

-<p>"All right," said the little girl, patiently putting

-on her shoes again.</p>

-

-<p>"What you going to do, child?"</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"I'm goin' to the wood-shed. Them as won't have

-my dog won't have me."</p>

-

-<p>"Land sakes, child, stay where you be! I guess

-he can't do no harm if you'll watch him."</p>

-

-<p>"No ma'am, he'll not rampage. He's little, an'

-he's ole, an' he's lame, an' he don't care much for

-walkin'. Sometimes you'll hear nothin' out o' him

-all day but a growl or a snap."</p>

-

-<p>The landlady drew away from the bundle, and

-after she had seen the tired head laid on the pillow,

-she softly closed the door of the room.</p>

-

-<p>In two minutes 'Tilda Jane was asleep. The night

-before she had not dared to sleep. To-day, under

-the protection of the creamery shark, she could take

-her rest, her hunger satisfied by the cake he had

-given her in the sleigh. The shark crept in once

-to look at her. "Ain't she a sight?" he whispered

-to Mrs. Minley, who accompanied him, "a half-starved

-monkey."</p>

-

-<p>She playfully made a thrust at his ribs. "Oh,

-go 'long with you&mdash;always making your jokes!

-How can a child look like a monkey?"</p>

-

-<p>He smiled, well pleased at her cajoling tone, then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>

-stretching himself out in an armchair, he announced

-that dinner must be postponed for an hour to let the

-child have her sleep out.</p>

-

-<p>Mrs. Minley kept a pleasant face before him, but

-gave vent to some suppressed grumbling in the

-kitchen. With fortitude remarkable in a hungry

-man, he waited until one o'clock, then, losing patience,

-he ate his dinner, and, telling Mrs. Minley

-that he had business in the neighbourhood, and

-would not be back until supper-time, he drove away

-in his sleigh.</p>

-

-<p>At six o'clock 'Tilda Jane felt herself gently

-shaken, and opening her eyes, she started up in

-alarm.</p>

-

-<p>"All right&mdash;'tain't the police," said Mrs. Minley.

-"I know all about you, little girl. You needn't be

-scared o' me. Get up and have a bite of supper.

-Mr. Dillson's going away, and he wants to see you."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane rose and put on her shoes in silence.

-Then she followed the landlady to the next room.

-For an instant she staggered back. She had never

-before seen such a huge, open fireplace, never had

-had such a picture presented to her in the steam<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>-heated

-orphanage. Fresh from troubled dreams,

-it seemed as if these logs were giants' bodies laid

-crosswise. The red flames were from their blood

-that was being licked up against the sooty stones.

-Then the ghastliness vanished, and she approvingly

-took in the picture,&mdash;the fat young

-creamery shark standing over the white cat and

-rubbing her with his toe, the firelight on the

-wall and snowy table, and the big lamp on the

-mantel.</p>

-

-<p>"Hello!" he exclaimed, turning around, "did you

-make your sleep out?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes sir," she said, briefly. "Where shall I put

-this dog?"</p>

-

-<p>"Don't put him nowhere till we turn this cat out.

-Scat, pussy!" and with his foot he gently assisted

-the small animal kitchenwards.</p>

-

-<p>"Now you can roast your pup here," he said,

-pointing to the vacated corner.</p>

-

-<p>"Don't touch him," warned 'Tilda Jane, putting

-aside his outstretched hand. "He nips worse'n a

-lobster."</p>

-

-<p>"Fine dog that," said the young man, ironically.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>

-"Come on now, let's fall to. I guess that rat's

-rampaging again."</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, he's pretty bad," said 'Tilda Jane, demurely;

-and she seated herself in the place indicated.</p>

-

-<p>Mrs. Minley waited on them herself, and, as she

-passed to and fro between the dining-room and

-kitchen, she bestowed many glances on the lean,

-lank, little girl with the brown face.</p>

-

-<p>After a time she nudged Hank with her elbow.

-"Look at her!"</p>

-

-<p>Hank withdrew his attention for a minute from

-his plate to cast a glance at the downcast head opposite.

-Then he dropped his knife and fork. "Look

-here! I call this kind of low-down."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane raised her moist eyes.</p>

-

-<p>"You've got ham and eggs; fried petetters

-and toast, and two kinds of preserve, and hot

-rolls and coffee, and cake and doughnuts, which

-is more'n you ever got at the asylum, I'll warrant,

-and yet you're crying,&mdash;and after all the

-trouble you've been to me. There's no satisfying

-some people."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane wiped her eyes. "I ain't a-cryin' for

-the 'sylum," she said, stolidly.</p>

-

-<p>"Then what are you crying for?"</p>

-

-<p>"I'm cryin' 'cause it's such a long way to Orstralia,

-an' I don't know no one. I wish you was a-goin'."</p>

-

-<p>"I wish I was, but I ain't. Come on now, eat

-your supper."</p>

-

-<p>"I suppose I be a fool," she muttered, picking up

-her knife and fork. "I've often heard I was."</p>

-

-<p>"Hi now&mdash;I guess you feel better, don't you?"

-said the young man, twenty minutes later.</p>

-

-<p>He was in excellent humour himself, and, sitting

-tilted back in his chair by the fireplace, played a

-tune on his big white teeth with a toothpick.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, I guess I'm better," said 'Tilda Jane,

-soberly. "That was a good supper."</p>

-

-<p>"Hadn't you better feed your pup?" asked the

-young man. "Seems to me he must be dead, he's

-so quiet."</p>

-

-<p>"He's plumb beat out, I guess," said the little

-girl, and she carefully removed the dog's queer

-drapery.</p>

-

-<p>A little, thin, old, brown cur staggered out, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>

-lips viciously rolled back, and a curious unsteadiness

-of gait.</p>

-

-<p>"Steady, old boy," said the young man; "my

-soul and body, he ain't got but three legs! Whoa&mdash;you're

-running into the table."</p>

-

-<p>"He don't see very well," said 'Tilda Jane, firmly.

-"His eyes is poor."</p>

-

-<p>"What's the matter with his tail? It don't seem

-to be hung on right."</p>

-

-<p>"It wobbles from having tin cans tied to it.

-Gippie dear, here's a bone."</p>

-

-<p>"Gippie dear," muttered the young man. "I'd

-shoot him if he was my dog."</p>

-

-<p>"If that dog died, I'd die," said the little girl,

-passionately.</p>

-

-<p>"We've got to keep him alive, then," said the

-young man, good-humouredly. "Can't you give him

-some milk?"</p>

-

-<p>She poured out a saucer full and set it before

-him. The partially blind dog snapped at the saucer,

-snapped at her fingers until he smelled them and

-discovered whose they were, then he finally condescended

-to lick out the saucer.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"And you like that thing?" said the young man,

-curiously.</p>

-

-<p>"Like him!&mdash;I love him," said 'Tilda Jane,

-affectionately stroking the brown, ugly back.</p>

-

-<p>"And when did he give away that leg?"</p>

-

-<p>She shook her head. "It's long to tell. I guess

-you'd ask me to shut up afore I got through."</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER III.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">THE STORY OF HER LIFE.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>The young man said nothing more at the time,

-but ten minutes later, when he was thoughtfully

-smoking a long brown pipe, and 'Tilda Jane sat

-in a chair beside him, rocking her dog, he called

-out to Mrs. Minley, who was hovering about the

-room. "Sit down, Mrs. Minley. P'raps you can

-get this little girl to talk; I can't."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane turned sharply to him. "Oh, mister,

-I'd do anything for you. I'll talk."</p>

-

-<p>"Well, reel it off then. I've got to start soon."</p>

-

-<p>"What d'ye want to know?" she said, doggedly.</p>

-

-<p>"Everything; tell me where you started from.

-Was you born in the asylum?"</p>

-

-<p>"Nobody don't know where I was born. Nobody

-don't know who I am, 'cept that a woman come

-to the poorhouse with me to Middle Marsden when

-I was a baby. She died, an' I was left. They give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>

-me the name of 'Tilda Jane Harper, an' put me in

-the 'sylum. Children come an' went. Just as soon

-as I'd get to like 'em they'd be 'dopted; I never

-was 'dopted, 'cause I'm so ugly. My eyes ought

-to 'a' been blue, an' my hair curly. I might 'a'

-been a servant, but my habits was in the way."</p>

-

-<p>"Habits&mdash;what habits?" asked Hank.</p>

-

-<p>"Habits of impidence an' pig-headedness. When

-the men come to kill the pigs I'd shut myself in

-my room, an' put my fingers in my ears, an' I

-couldn't hear, but I'd always squeal when the pigs

-squealed."</p>

-

-<p>"Is that why you wouldn't eat your ham just

-now?"</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, that ain't ham to me," she said, eloquently.

-"That bit o' red meat was a cunnin', teeny white

-pig runnin' round a pen, cryin' 'cause the butcher's

-after him. I couldn't eat it, any more'n I'd eat my

-brother."</p>

-

-<p>"You're a queer little kite," interjected the young

-man, and he exchanged an amused glance with Mrs.

-Minley, who was swaying gently back and forth in a

-rocking-chair.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"So you wasn't very much set up at the asylum?"

-he went on.</p>

-

-<p>"I guess I'm too bad for a 'sylum. <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'Onct our washerwoman'">Once our

-washerwoman</ins> took me home to supper. I guess

-heaven must be like that. They had a cat, too. I

-used to get in most trouble at the 'sylum 'bout cats.

-When starvin' ones came rubbin' up agin me in the

-garden, I couldn't help sneakin' them a bit o' bread

-from the pantry. It beats all, how cats find out people

-as likes 'em. Then I'd get jerked up."</p>

-

-<p>"Jerked up?" repeated her interlocutor.</p>

-

-<p>"Locked in my room, or have my hands slapped.

-<ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'Onct I took'">Once I took</ins> a snake in the house. He was cold,

-but he got away from me, an' the matron found him

-in her bed. She whipped me that time."</p>

-

-<p>"Was that what made you run away?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, I run away on account o' this dog. You

-call up the cold spell we had a week ago?"</p>

-

-<p>"You bet&mdash;I was out in it."</p>

-

-<p>"Well, there come the coldest night. The matron

-give us extry blankets, but I couldn't sleep. I woke

-up in the middle o' the night, an' I thought o' that

-dog out in the stable. 'He'll freeze,' I said, an'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>

-when I said it, it seemed as if icicles were stickin'

-into me. I was mos' crazy. I got up an' looked

-out the window. There was a moon, an awful bitin',

-ugly kind of a moon grinnin' at me. I put on some

-clo'es, I slipped down-stairs, an' it seemed as if

-everythin' was yellin' in the cold. Every board

-an' every wall I touched went off like a gun, but

-no one woke, an' I got out in the stable.</p>

-

-<p>"The horse was warm an' so was the cow, but this

-little dog was mos' froze. I tried to warm him, but

-my fingers got like sticks. Then I did a scand'lous

-thing. I says, 'I'll take him in bed with me an'

-warm him for a spell, an' no one'll know;' so I

-lugged him in the house, an' he cuddled down on

-my arm just so cunnin'. Then I tried to stay

-awake, so I could carry him out early in the

-mornin', but didn't I fall to sleep, an' the first thing

-I knowed there was the matron a-spearin' me

-with her eyes, an she put out her hand to ketch

-the dog, an' he up an' bit her, an' then there was

-trouble."</p>

-

-<p>"What kind of trouble?" asked the young

-man.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"I had bread an' water for two days, an' the dog

-was shut up in the stable, an' then I was brought up

-before the lady-board."</p>

-

-<p>"The lady-board," murmured Mrs. Minley; "what

-does the child mean?"</p>

-

-<p>"The board of lady managers," explained Dillson.</p>

-

-<p>"Tell us about it," he said to 'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>The latter was keeping an eye on the clock. She

-knew that the time must soon come for her to part

-from her new-found friend. It was not in her nature

-to be very demonstrative, yet she could not altogether

-hide a certain feverishness and anxiety. One thing,

-however, she could do, and she subdued her emotion

-in order to do it. It amused the young man to hear

-her talk. She would suppress her natural inclination

-to silence and gravity, and try to entertain him.

-And the more she talked, possibly the longer he

-would stay.</p>

-

-<p>Therefore she went on: "There they set round

-the table as big an' handsome as so many pies. One

-lady was at the top, an' she rapped on the table with

-a little hammer, an' said, ''Tention, ladies!' Then

-she says, 'Here is the 'fortinate object of dissection.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>

-What part shall we tackle fust? Name your wishes,

-ladies.' Then she stopped an' another lady begun,

-'Mam pressiding, stake the case.'"</p>

-

-<p>The young man took his pipe from his mouth, and

-Mrs. Minley ejaculated, "Mercy me!"</p>

-

-<p>"Madam president, I guess," he said, gravely.

-"Go on, sissy."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane went on, still with her eye on the

-clock, and still speaking feverishly. "The mam

-pressiding staked me out. Says she, 'Here is a

-little girl&mdash;she come to us like a lily o' the field;

-no dress on, no bunnit, no nothin'. We've fed an'

-clothed the lily, an' guv her good advice, an' she's

-lifted up her heel agin us. She deifies us, she introjuces

-toads an' snakes into the sacred presings of

-our sinningcherry for orphans. She packs a dirty

-dog in bed. We'll never levelate her. She's lowering

-the key of our 'stution. She knows not the

-place of reptiles an' quadruples. Ladies, shall we

-keep this little disturving lellement in our 'stution?

-If thy hand 'fend against thee cut it off. If thy

-foot straggle, treat it likewise.'</p>

-

-<p>"Then she set down, an' another lady got up.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>

-Says she, 'I'm always for mercy&mdash;strained mercy

-dropping like juice from heaven. If this little girl is

-turned inside out, she'll be a bright an' shinin' light.

-I prepose that we make the 'speriment. The tastes

-is in her, but we can nip off the grati'cations. I

-remove that instead of disturving her, we disturve

-the animiles. Ladies, we has hard work to run this

-'stution.'"</p>

-

-<p>"This 'stution?" said the young man.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, 'stution," repeated 'Tilda Jane, "that's

-what they call the 'sylum. Well, this lady went on

-an' says she, 'Let's send away the cats an' dogs an'

-all the children's pets&mdash;squirrels an' pigeons an'

-rabbits, 'cause this little girl's disruptin' every child

-on the place. <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'Onct when cats come'">Once when cats come</ins> an' other animiles,

-they was stoned away. Now they're took in.

-I come across one little feller jus' now, an' instead o'

-learnin' his lesson he was playin' with a beetle.

-Ticklin' it with a straw, ladies. Now ain't that

-awful? We've got 'sponsibilities toward these

-foun'lings. I feels like a mother. If we sends 'em

-foolish out in the world we'll be blamed. Our faithful

-matron says it's unpossible to ketch rats an'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>

-mice. This little girl gets at the traps, an' let's

-'em go. She's a born rule-smasher!'</p>

-

-<p>"Then she closed her mouth an' set down, an' the

-big lady sittin' at the head o' the table pounded her

-hammer 'cause they all fell to jabberin'. Says she,

-'Will some lady make a commotion?' Then one

-lady got up, an' she says, 'I remove that all animiles

-be decharged from this 'stution.'</p>

-

-<p>"'What about the chickings?' called out another

-lady. 'You must declude them. This will go on

-record.' The other lady said, ''Scuse me, I forgot

-the chickings. I'll mend my dissolution. I remove

-that all quadruples be decharged from this 'stution.'</p>

-

-<p>"That suited some, an' didn't suit t'others, an'

-there was a kind of chally-vally. One lady said she's

-mend the mendment, an' then the mam pressiding

-got kind o' mixy-maxy, an' said they'd better start

-all over agin, 'cause she'd lose her way 'mong so

-many mendments. After a long time, they got their

-ideas sot, an' they said that I was to stay, but all the

-animiles was to go. I didn't snuffle nor nothin', but

-I just said, 'Are you plannin' to kill that there

-dog?'</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"The mam pressiding gave a squeal an' said, 'No,

-that would be cruel. They would give the dog to

-some little feller who would be good to him.' I said,

-'Little fellers tie tin cans to dogs' tails'&mdash;an' then

-they got mad with me an' said I was trespicious.

-Then I said, 'All right,' 'cause what could I do agin

-a whole lot o' lady-boards? But I made up my mind

-I'd have to work my way out of it, 'cause it would kill

-that little dog to be took from me. So I run away."</p>

-

-<p>Her story was done, and, closing her lips in dogged

-resolution, she stared inquiringly at the young man.

-He was not going to withdraw his protection from

-her, she saw that, but what would he direct her to

-do next?</p>

-

-<p>He was thoughtfully tapping his pipe against the

-fireplace, now he was putting it in his pocket, and

-now he was going to speak.</p>

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-<a name="p045" id="p045"></a>

-<img src="images/p045.jpg" width="550" alt="" />

-<div class="caption">"'TILDA JANE SAT LIKE A STATUE."</div>

-<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>

-</div>

-

-<p>"Little girl, you've started for Australia, and as I

-don't believe in checking a raring, tearing ambition,

-I won't try to block you, exactly, but only to sidetrack.

-You can't go to Australia bang off. It's too

-far. And you haven't got the funds. Now I'll make

-a proposition. I've got an old father 'most as cranky

-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>as that there dog. I guess if you're so long-suffering

-with the animal, you'll be long-suffering with the

-human. He needs some tidy body to keep his house

-trigged up, and to wait on him, 'cause he's lame. He

-has an everlasting wrastle to keep a housekeeper on

-account of this same flash-light temper. But I guess

-from what I've seen of you, that you could fix him.

-And you'd have a home which you seem to hanker

-for. And you could save your money and start for

-Australia when you've put enough flesh on those

-bones to keep you from blowing away into the sea

-and getting lost. Starting would be convenient, for

-my father lives near the big Canadian railway that is

-a round the world route. You can step aboard the

-cars, go to the Pacific, board a steamer, and go on

-your way to Australia. What do you say&mdash;is it a

-bargain?"</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane sat like a statue. The firelight danced

-behind her little, grave profile that remained unchanged,

-save for the big tears rolling slowly and

-deliberately down each thin cheek and dropping on

-the faded dress. Only the tears and the frantically

-clasped hands betrayed emotion.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"I guess it's a go," said the young man, kindly.

-"Here's my father's address," and getting up he

-handed a card to her. "Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset,

-Maine. I've got to make tracks now, but Mrs.

-Minley here will put you on a train that comes by

-here in the morning, and all you've got to do is to sit

-still in it, till you hear the conductor holler Ciscasset.

-Then you hustle out and ask some one where

-Hobart Dillson lives. When you get there, don't

-shake if he throws a crutch at you. Just tell him

-you've come to stay, and I'm going to pay extra

-for it. That'll cool him, 'cause he's had to pay a

-housekeeper out of his own allowance up to this.

-The old boy and I don't rub along together very

-sweet, but he knows the size of a dollar every

-time."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane choked back the suffocating lump in

-her throat, and gravely rose to her feet. "Sir, I'm

-as much obleeged to you as&mdash;"</p>

-

-<p>Here she broke down.</p>

-

-<p>"As you ought to be," he finished. "Don't mention

-it. I'm happy to make your acquaintance. So

-long," and he politely held out two fingers.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>A vague terror seized the little girl. He had

-arranged everything for her, and yet she had never

-since her escape felt so paralysed with fear. Her

-beseeching eyes sought Mrs. Minley's face. The

-landlady was smiling graciously at her, but the little

-girl's heart sunk. Quite unknown to herself, she

-was a sharp reader of character. She was losing her

-best friend in the fat young man.</p>

-

-<p>"Take me with you," she gasped, suddenly clinging

-to his hand.</p>

-

-<p>"Can't do that, sissy. I'm going back into the

-settlements&mdash;bad roads, scattered houses. You'd

-freeze stiff. Better stay here with Mrs. Minley.

-I'll run up to Ciscasset by and by to see you."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane drew back in sudden, steely composure.

-She was ashamed of herself. "I'm crazy,"

-she said, shortly; "you've done enough for me now.

-I'll take care of your father if he gets mad fifty

-times a day."</p>

-

-<p>Already she felt a sense of responsibility. She

-drew herself up with dignity, and in sad, composed

-silence watched the young man leave the room and

-the house. When the last faint sound of his sleigh-bells<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>

-had died away, she gave up her listening attitude,

-and turned patiently to Mrs. Minley, who was

-saying with a yawn, "I guess you'd better go to

-bed."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane walked obediently toward her room,

-and Mrs. Minley, seating herself on a chair in cold

-curiosity, watched her undress.</p>

-

-<p>When the little girl knelt down to say her prayers,

-a feeble smile illuminated the woman's face. However,

-she was still listless and uninterested, until the

-latter portion of the petition.</p>

-

-<p>"O Lord," 'Tilda Jane was praying earnestly,

-almost passionately, "forgive me for all this sin an'

-'niquity. I just had to run away. I couldn't give

-up that little dog that thou didst send me. I'll live

-square as soon as I get takin' care o' that ole man.

-Bless the matron an' make her forgive me, an' bless

-all the lady-boards&mdash;Mis' Grannis 'specially, 'cause

-she'll be maddest with me. Keep me from tellin'

-any more lies. Amen."</p>

-

-<p>When 'Tilda Jane rose from her knees, Mrs.

-Minley's breath was coming and going quickly, and

-there was a curious light in her eyes. "Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>

-Grannis, did you say?" she asked, shortly. "Mrs.

-Grannis, over Beaver Dam way?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>

-

-<p>"What has she got to do with the asylum?"</p>

-

-<p>"She's the fust lady-board. She sits behind the

-table an' pounds the hammer."</p>

-

-<p>"And she'll be maddest with you?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, ma'am. She says children has too much

-liberties."</p>

-

-<p>"Hurry into bed," said Mrs. Minley, briefly, and

-taking up the lamp, and without a word of farewell,

-she disappeared from the room.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane cowered down between the cold sheets.

-Then she stretched out a hand to touch the precious

-bundle on the chair by her bed. And then she tried

-to go to sleep, but sleep would not come.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER IV.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">UNSTABLE AS WATER.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>A vague uneasiness possessed her. Ah, how

-happy would she be, could she know that the young

-creamery man was sleeping under the same roof!

-But he was speeding somewhere far away over the

-snowy roads. However, she should see him again.

-He had said so, and, with the hopefulness of youth,

-she sighed a happy sigh and, closing her eyes tightly,

-listened to the various sounds about the quiet house.</p>

-

-<p>There must have been another arrival, for she

-heard doors opening and shutting, and also the jingle

-of sleigh-bells. They were strangely confused in

-her mind with the ringing of the rising-bell at the

-orphan asylum, and she was just sinking into a

-dreamy condition, a forerunner of sleep, when she

-heard a hard voice in her ear.</p>

-

-<p>"Get up an' dress, little girl."</p>

-

-<p>She raised herself quietly from the pillow. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>

-stood over her the tall, gaunt woman whom she had

-heard Mrs. Minley address as Ruth Ann. To her

-perturbed mind, there rose a vision of a graven

-image from the Bible, as she stared at the woman's

-stony countenance. She was standing shading a

-candle with her hand, and her deep eyes were fixed

-in unmistakable compassion on the little girl.</p>

-

-<p>"Jump up," she repeated, "an' dress like sixty.

-You've got yourself into a peck o' trouble."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane had not a thought of questioning the

-wisdom of this command. Something about the

-hard-faced woman inspired her with confidence, and

-without a word she stepped out of bed, and began

-rapidly putting on her clothes.</p>

-

-<p>"I'll talk while you dress," said the woman, in a

-hard, intense voice, and putting down the candle,

-"but, Lord, how can I say it all?"</p>

-

-<p>There was a kind of desperation in her tone,

-although no trace of emotion appeared on her face.

-'Tilda Jane felt a strange kinship with this reserved

-woman, and flashed her a sympathetic glance while

-buttoning one of her stout and ugly garments.</p>

-

-<p>Ruth Ann made a brief grimace. "Here I am,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>

-she said, with a sudden burst of speech, "a middle-aged

-woman gettin' old. You're a young one settin'

-out on life's journey. I'll never see you agin,

-prob'bly. Let me give you a word&mdash;be honest, an'

-if you can't be honest, be as honest as you can.

-You'll have no luck otherwise. You may think

-you're havin' luck in bein' sly, but it's a kind o' luck

-that turns to loss in the long run. There's that

-sister o' mine. She reminds me o' Reuben in the

-Bible&mdash;'unstable as water thou shalt not excel.'

-She's that deceitful that I should think she'd choke

-with it so she couldn't breathe."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane made no remark, but as she threw her

-dress over her head her two black eyes scintillated

-wonderingly in the woman's direction.</p>

-

-<p>"Unstable," said Ruth Ann, bitterly. "I'd 'a'

-loved her if she'd been honest, but it's always the

-same,&mdash;fair to the face, foul behind the back. I've

-slaved for her an' waited on her, an' heard her

-praised for work I've done, and seen young men

-oggle her, an' she oggle back, an' I've never had

-an offer an' never will, an' sometimes I think I hate

-her."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane paused for an instant in her rapid

-dressing. This sisterly repulsion was something

-unknown to her childish experience.</p>

-

-<p>"Then when she gets sick from stuffin' herself,

-I'm feared, an' think she's goin' to die, but she'll

-'tend my funeral, an' cry an' look so handsome that

-some ole Jack will pop the question on the way

-home. Here, child, eat these while you dress,"

-and she drew some doughnuts from her pocket.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane pushed them from her, with an involuntary

-movement of dislike.</p>

-

-<p>"You've turned agin me for turnin' agin my

-sister," said the woman, bitterly. "Wait till you're

-treated as I am. An' let me tell you what she's

-done to you. You made mention o' Mis' Grannis.

-Mis' Grannis has got a mortgage on this house.

-Mis' Grannis lends her money, Mis' Grannis is the

-god my sister bows down to. Do you think she'd

-let you stand between her and Mis' Grannis? No&mdash;the

-minute she heard you say Mis' Grannis

-would be pleased to git you back, that minute she

-made up her mind to fool you and Hank Dillson

-that she can't abide 'cause he ain't never asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>

-her to stop bein' a widow. So she made me help

-her hitch up, an' she's off on the wings of the

-wind to tell her sweet Mis' Grannis to come an'

-git you; an' just to fool her who is so cute at

-foolin' other folks, I made up my mind to git you

-off. Now do you take it in?"</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane did take in this alarming bit of news,

-and for one instant stood aghast. Then she resolutely

-fell to lacing on her shoes.</p>

-

-<p>"You're gritty," said the woman, admiringly.

-"Now I'll tell you what I've laid out. I'm goin'

-to guide you through the woods to the Moss Glen

-Station. When we git mos' there, I'll skedaddle

-home an' to bed, 'cause I don't want sister to find

-me out. Here's an extry pair o' stockin's an' shoes

-to put on before you board the train. You'll git

-yours full o' snow water. If all goes as I calc'late,

-you'll have time to change 'em in the station.

-You don't want to git sick so you can't stand up

-to that ole man. Here's a little tippet for your

-shoulders. Dillson told sister to give you a shawl,

-but she'll not do it. An' he paid her, too. Now

-come, let's start."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane brushed her hand over her eyes,

-resolutely picked up her dog, and followed her

-guide out to the kitchen.</p>

-

-<p>Ruth Ann caught up a shawl, threw it over her

-head, and opened the door. "My&mdash;it's black! I

-guess we'll have to take a lantern."</p>

-

-<p>She turned back, fumbled in a corner of the

-kitchen, struck a light, then rejoined 'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>For some minutes they plodded on in silence.

-Then Ruth Ann said, anxiously, "I don' know

-what I'll do if it don't snow. She'll track us sure&mdash;me,

-big feet, an' you, smaller ones. Glory, it's

-snowin' now!"</p>

-

-<p>A sudden wind had sprung up in the black, quiet

-night, and whirled a few flakes of snow in their

-faces. Then the snow began to fall from above,

-gently and quietly, flake by flake.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane struggled along the heavy road in the

-wake of the tall woman ahead. The small dog

-seemed to have grown larger, and lay a heavy burden

-in her arms. Yet she uttered no word of

-complaint. Her mind was in a whirl, and she gave

-no thought to physical fatigue. What was she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>

-doing? Had she&mdash;a little girl&mdash;any right to give

-so much trouble to grown people? Her actions

-were exactly in opposition to every precept that

-had been instilled into her mind. Children should

-be seen and not heard. Children should wait on

-grown people. Children must not lie under any

-circumstances. They must be obedient, truthful,

-honest, and uncomplaining. Perhaps she ought to

-go back to the orphan asylum. She could stand

-punishment herself&mdash;but her dog? They would

-make her give him up. Some boy would get him.

-Boys were all mischievous at times. Could she

-endure the thought of that little feeble frame

-subjected to torture? She could not, and steeling

-her heart against the asylum, the matron, and the

-lady managers, she walked on more quickly than

-ever.</p>

-

-<p>She would never forget that ghostly walk through

-the woods. The narrow way wound always between

-high snow-laden sentinels of trees. The sickly,

-slanting gleam of the lantern lighted only a few

-steps ahead. Mystery and solemnity were all about

-her; the pure and exquisite snow, on which they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>

-were putting their black-shod feet, was to her the

-trailing robe of an angel who had gone before.

-The large, flat snowflakes, showered on her erring

-head, were missives from the skies, "Go back,

-little girl, go back."</p>

-

-<p>"Lord, I can't go back," she repeated, stubbornly,

-"but I'll repent some more, by and by. Please

-take away the sick feeling in the middle of my

-stomach. I can't enjoy anythin'."</p>

-

-<p>The sick feeling continued, and she gave Ruth

-Ann only a feeble "yes," when she suddenly turned

-and threw the light of the lantern on her with a

-brisk, "Don't you want to know what lie I'm goin'

-to tell 'bout your leavin'?</p>

-

-<p>"I'm not goin' to tell any lie," Ruth Ann continued,

-triumphantly. "If you've got grace enough

-to hold your tongue, other folks'll do all your lyin'

-for you. Sister'll come home, Mis' Grannis with

-her, prob'bly. They'll go ravagin' in the spare

-room. They'll come ravagin' out&mdash;'Ruth Ann,

-that young one's run off!' An' I'll be busy with

-my pots an' pans, an' all I'll have to say is: 'Do

-tell!' or, 'Why, how you talk!' An' sister'll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>

-rave an' tear, an' run round like a crazy thing, an'

-look at Mis' Grannis out o' the corner of her eye."</p>

-

-<p>Ruth Ann's shoulders shook with enjoyable

-laughter, but if she had turned suddenly she

-would have seen a look of unmistakable disgust

-flitting over the face behind her.</p>

-

-<p>She did turn suddenly a few minutes later, but the

-look was gone. "Here, give me that dog," she said,

-peremptorily.</p>

-

-<p>The little girl protested, but the woman took him,

-and again they plodded on in silence.</p>

-

-<p>"Here we be," she said, after they had been walking

-for an hour longer.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane raised her head. The narrow road had

-abruptly expanded into a circular clearing, and in the

-midst of the clearing stood a small wooden building.</p>

-

-<p>Ruth Ann walked up to it, handed 'Tilda Jane the

-dog and the lantern, and put her hands on one of the

-diminutive windows.</p>

-

-<p>It opened easily, and she ejaculated with satisfaction,

-"Just what I thought. Come, crawl in here;

-the station agent's been here all the evenin', an' the

-fire ain't quite out. You'll be as snug as a bug in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>

-rug. He'll be back at daylight agin, an' soon after

-your train'll come along for Ciscasset. Don't you

-breathe a word to him 'bout me. Say Mis' Minley

-brought you here, if he asks anythin'. Here's enough

-money to buy your ticket. I ain't got much. Sister

-keeps me short, an' she's took away with her what

-Hank Dillson give her for you. Mind an' keep that

-card with his father's name pinned inside your dress.

-Here's a lunch," and she produced a parcel from her

-pocket. "Don't fret, sister can't git home much before

-breakfast, an' by that time you'll be in Ciscasset,

-an' I guess they'll not follow you there. She don't

-know the name o' the place, anyway. She didn't

-take no 'count when Hank mentioned it, an' when

-she asked me, you'd better believe I forgot it, too."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane scrambled through the window, and,

-upon arriving inside, turned around and gravely shook

-hands with her guide. "I guess I sha'n't forgit this."</p>

-

-<p>"Don't you take no pains to remember it before

-sister," said the woman, with a chuckle, "if you don't

-want me to live an' die in hot water. Good luck to

-you. Shut the winder, an' put a stick on the fire,"

-and she strode off through the snow.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane shuddered. She was not a nervous

-child, yet the knowledge that she was alone in a

-forest pressed and bore down upon her. However,

-she was out of the increasing storm. She had got

-her guilty feet off that angel's trailing robe, and the

-little letters from heaven were not dashing in her

-face, nor was there any danger now that one of the

-groaning trees bending to lament over her would fall

-and crush her shrinking form.</p>

-

-<p>They were creaking all around the circular opening&mdash;those

-spying trees&mdash;staring through the curtainless

-windows at her, and instead of throwing on more

-wood, and making a blaze that would enable her to

-be plainly seen, she opened the stove door, and, cowering

-over the embers, changed her wet foot-gear,

-and tried to dry her clinging skirts.</p>

-

-<p>She was entirely miserable until the frightened dog

-crept into her arms. Here was something weaker

-and more in need of protection than herself, and,

-hugging him closely to her, she prepared to spend

-the rest of the night in a patient waiting for the

-morning.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER V.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">ANOTHER ADVENTURE.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>The quietest and most undemonstrative passenger

-on the night train from Boston was the shabby little

-girl in the corner, with the bundle beside her on the

-seat.</p>

-

-<p>The conductor, after one sharp glance, paid no

-attention to her, the brakemen paid no attention to

-her, the boy with the gum-drops and novels ignored

-her. She had the air of knowing where she was

-going, and also of being utterly uninteresting, and

-greatly to her relief she was left entirely to her own

-devices.</p>

-

-<p>In reality 'Tilda Jane was in a state of semi-paralysis.

-She scarcely dared to move, to breathe. All

-her life had been spent in the quiet precincts of the

-asylum. She had scarcely been allowed to go to the

-small village in its vicinity, and when she had been

-allowed to visit it she had seen nothing as wonderful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>

-as this, for there was no railway there. It took her

-breath away to be whirled along at so rapid a rate.

-She wondered how the people dared to walk about.

-She wondered how she had ever had courage enough

-to step on board the flaming, roaring monster that

-had come rushing out of the woods as if it would

-devour the little station, the agent, herself, and her

-dog. But they had not been devoured, and the

-agent had guided her staggering footsteps toward the

-monster. If he had not done so, she would in her

-bewilderment have been left a prey for the pitiless

-Mrs. Minley.</p>

-

-<p>For two hours she sat with swimming brain, then

-it occurred to her that she must in some way acquaint

-this wonderful and frightful means of locomotion,

-with her desire to alight at her destination.

-She closely watched the people entering and leaving

-the car, and discovered that immediately following

-the entrance of a man who bawled some unintelligible

-exclamation, something took place that reminded her

-of a game played at the asylum. Certain people went

-out, and certain others came in and took their places.

-She must catch this noisy man and speak to him.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>She patiently waited for him to pass through the

-car. Once he swept by her, and then some time

-elapsed before she saw him again. The train had

-been waiting for fifteen minutes at a station. A

-number of men had gone out, and presently come

-back brushing their moustaches and with toothpicks

-between their teeth. This must be an eating-place;

-and Ruth Ann said that 'Tilda Jane would arrive in

-Ciscasset before breakfast-time.</p>

-

-<p>The little girl desperately addressed a passenger

-passing her. "I say, sir, when do we come to

-Ciscasset?"</p>

-

-<p>"Ciscasset!" repeated the man. "We passed it

-an hour ago."</p>

-

-<p>"Passed it!" she echoed, stupidly.</p>

-

-<p>The man turned to a news agent sauntering by.

-"Here, you, send the conductor here."</p>

-

-<p>The conductor did not appear, but a brakeman

-came. "Got carried beyond your station, little girl.

-You're in Canada now, but it's all right; we'll ship

-you off at the next stop. Number eight will take

-you back. All ri-i-i-ght."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane fell back on her seat with a strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>

-sinking of heart. She remembered now that Hank

-Dillson had said the conductor would "holler" Ciscasset;

-but, if he had done so, she had not distinguished

-the words in the strange sounds issuing

-from his mouth.</p>

-

-<p>It seemed as if only a few bewildered minutes had

-passed when someone ejaculated, "McAdam Junction!"

-and the friendly brakeman was beside her.

-She felt herself lifted from her seat, bundle and all,

-and swung to a platform, where she stood among a

-group of people. She did not know where to go or

-what to do, and remained as one in a dream until

-some one touched her shoulder.</p>

-

-<p>"You the little girl carried beyond your station?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, sir," she gasped, and looked up into the

-pleasant face of a young man bending over her.</p>

-

-<p>"All right; the conductor told me about you.

-Come in here," and he led the way to a waiting-room.

-"Had your breakfast?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, sir, but I've got it here," and she pulled

-Ruth Ann's parcel out of her pocket.</p>

-

-<p>The young man smiled and motioned it back.

-"Come have some hot coffee," and he passed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>

-through a doorway into an eating-room, where 'Tilda

-Jane presently found herself seated before a steaming

-cup of coffee, and a plate of beefsteak and

-potatoes.</p>

-

-<p>"I ain't got any money to pay for this," she said,

-bluntly, to the young woman who set the tempting

-viands before her.</p>

-

-<p>"That's all right," said the girl, smiling.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane picked up her knife and fork. "All

-right!" seemed to be a railway expression. It was

-immensely comforting to her, and she soberly partook

-of the hot breakfast, drank all her coffee, and

-emptied the scraps from her plate into her handkerchief.

-Then she approached the counter where

-the young woman stood.</p>

-

-<p>"Thank you kindly, ma'am. I've made a good

-meal."</p>

-

-<p>Then she went outdoors into the crisp morning

-air. The snow-storm was over, and the day was

-delightful&mdash;blue above, white below. It was like

-a fairy world. She walked to the end of the platform,

-unrolled her shawl, and, freeing her mummy-like

-dog, set his breakfast before him. He ate with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>

-avidity, then, showing a disinclination to return to

-his bandages, hopped on his three legs along the

-platform beside her, his crooked tail meanwhile

-describing successive circles in the air. Some of

-the loiterers about the station gathered around him,

-and seeing that his bodily infirmities were a subject

-of mirth rather than of compassion, 'Tilda Jane, in

-spite of warm protests on his part, once more

-swathed him in his shawl, and carried him with

-dignity into the waiting-room. There she sat until

-the agreeable young man ran in and said her train

-was coming.</p>

-

-<p>Something warned her that she ought to implore

-him to tell some one to have a care of her&mdash;to see

-that she did not again get carried beyond her destination,

-but a kind of paralysis seized upon her

-tongue, and she could only open her mouth and

-gape stupidly at him.</p>

-

-<p>"You'll be all right now," he said, with a nod.

-"Jump when you hear Ciscasset."</p>

-

-<p>"Ciscasset, Ciscasset!" she repeated the name

-in a kind of desperation, then, as the train started

-with a jerk and she tumbled into a seat, she said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>

-aloud, and without addressing any one in particular,

-"I wish to jump off at Ciscasset."</p>

-

-<p>"Bless the child!" ejaculated an old lady in the

-seat before her, "I guess this is her first journey,"

-and turning around, she stared mildly.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, ma'am," said 'Tilda Jane, "can't you help

-me get off at Ciscasset? The train goes so fast, an'

-I'm so little."</p>

-

-<p>"Bless the child!" said the old lady again, "of

-course I will. Conductor, this little girl wishes to

-get off at Ciscasset."</p>

-

-<p>"All right," said that official, hurrying by.</p>

-

-<p>"This little girl wishes to get off at Ciscasset,"

-exclaimed the old lady once more, this time to a

-brakeman.</p>

-

-<p>He nodded and passed on, and presently the conductor

-returned and said, smartly, "Tickets!"</p>

-

-<p>"I ain't got any," replied 'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>"Then you must buy one," said the old lady;

-"have you got any money, my dear?"</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane never thought of asking the conductor

-if he had not been informed of her mishap. She

-never dreamed that the pleasant-faced young man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>

-had forgotten to ask that she be carried back to the

-station for which she had bought her ticket. Therefore

-she drew her handkerchief from her pocket,

-untied a knot in its corner, and slowly produced

-fifty cents.</p>

-

-<p>"Is that all the money you've got?" asked the

-conductor, briskly.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, sir."</p>

-

-<p>"Where do you come from?"</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane preserved a discreet silence.</p>

-

-<p>"Put it up," he said, waving his hand toward the

-handkerchief and immediately going away.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, what a nice kind man!" said the old lady.

-"He's going to let you ride free."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane breathed more freely, and returned

-her handkerchief to its place.</p>

-

-<p>The conductor, meanwhile, had gone to a Pullman

-car in the rear, where a man in plain clothes was

-lying back on a seat, apparently engaged in an aimless,

-leisurely scrutiny of the occupants of the car.</p>

-

-<p>"Jack," said the conductor, "there's a slip of a

-girl in the day car&mdash;poor clothes, shawl bundle, no

-money, won't tell where she comes from, making a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>

-great fuss about going to Ciscasset, looks like an

-emigrant."</p>

-

-<p>"All right," said Jack, laconically, then he gave

-an imperceptible nod toward a trio of well-dressed

-young men engaged in card playing. "Want to see

-me nab that New York jeweller's clerk?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yep," said the conductor.</p>

-

-<p>"Got any telegrams in your pocket?"</p>

-

-<p>"Two."</p>

-

-<p>"Lend me one, and sit down here a minute."</p>

-

-<p>Jack got up, the conductor took the vacated seat,

-and waited one, two, three minutes, and then Jack

-reappeared from between the curtains of the drawing-room

-at the rear of the car.</p>

-

-<p>"A telegram for H.J. Bolingbroke," he called, in

-a loud voice; "any passenger of that name in this

-car?"</p>

-

-<p>The youngest of the three men playing cards

-involuntarily raised his head, started from his seat,

-half extended his hand, then drew back.</p>

-

-<p>Jack tossed the telegram to the conductor, and

-nodded to the young man. "Thought you were

-travelling under an assumed name. H. J. Boling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>broke

-<em>alias</em> Blixton. Have you got those diamonds

-in your pocket?"</p>

-

-<p>The young man flushed painfully, while his fellow

-players threw down their cards and surveyed him

-curiously.</p>

-

-<p>"Trouble you to follow me to another car," said

-Jack, and he led the way for the detected smuggler.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane saw the two men pass, and innocently

-stared at them, little dreaming that her turn was to

-come next.</p>

-

-<p>After awhile Jack reappeared and sat down in a

-seat behind 'Tilda Jane. After noticing the ineffectual

-attempts made by the old lady to draw the

-little girl into conversation, he leaned over and

-poured some candy into her lap from a bag he held

-in his hand.</p>

-

-<p>"Have some, sissy?"</p>

-

-<p>She gratefully flashed him a glance over her

-shoulder. "Thank you, sir."</p>

-

-<p>"Going far?" he asked, agreeably.</p>

-

-<p>"To Ciscasset," she said, feverishly. "Will you

-tell me when we come to it?"</p>

-

-<p>"Certainly. Going to visit friends?"</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"No, sir."</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, going home?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, sir."</p>

-

-<p>"Your home isn't quite so near as Ciscasset?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, sir."</p>

-

-<p>"Did you bring that small dog across the ocean

-with you?" he asked, his keen eye noting a stirring

-inside the bundle.</p>

-

-<p>"No, sir."</p>

-

-<p>"Where did you pick him up?"</p>

-

-<p>"Some boys were goin' to drown him."</p>

-

-<p>"So you're a kind little girl."</p>

-

-<p>"I ain't as good as I ought to be," she said,

-warmly; "but I'm goin' to try to be better. Oh,

-sir, are we at Ciscasset yet?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, this is Vanceboro, the border station between

-Canada and the States. I guess you'd better

-come this way for Ciscasset, little girl."</p>

-

-<p>"Why, this train goes direct to Ciscasset," interposed

-the old lady.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, ma'am, but this little girl is a stop-over.

-She'll probably go on the next train."</p>

-

-<p>The old lady grew suspicious. "You let that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>

-child alone, sir. Where's the conductor? Conductor,

-I say, come here. Can't some one get the

-conductor? Don't go with him one step, little

-girl."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane, grown very pale, gazed apprehensively

-at the man, and did not offer to leave her seat.</p>

-

-<p>He threw back his coat and displayed a badge.

-"Madam, I'm a government inspector."</p>

-

-<p>"A government inspector! What's that?" the

-old lady spluttered, eyeing him over her glasses.</p>

-

-<p>"Well, madam, there ain't much time for explanation,

-but I can tell you this much, namely, that

-we have to detain and examine all persons without

-means of livelihood who attempt to enter the United

-States from foreign countries."</p>

-

-<p>She still gazed at him suspiciously. "I never

-heard of such a thing. I guess this is a free

-country."</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, ma'am, and the government wants to keep

-it free. If you get a lot of pauper foreigners here,

-it'll not be free long."</p>

-

-<p>"This little girl is American, ain't you, sissy?"</p>

-

-<p>"I'm an orphan," said 'Tilda Jane, guardedly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>

-Whatever happened, she was determined not to

-admit too much.</p>

-

-<p>At this moment the conductor appeared, and the

-old lady hailed him indignantly. "What does this

-mean, sir? This little girl offered to pay her passage.

-I saw her with my own eyes. Now you're

-going to put her off the train."</p>

-

-<p>"It's all right, ma'am," he said, soothingly, "she'll

-likely be allowed to go on to-morrow."</p>

-

-<p>"And you'll keep that innocent child here all

-day, and she too frightened to breathe?" cried the

-old lady. "I never heard of such doings. I'll write

-the President! I'll show you up in the papers!"</p>

-

-<p>"She'll be well taken care of, madam," said the

-conductor. "There's a good hotel here. All detained

-are lodged and fed at government expense.

-She'll be put in charge of a chambermaid."</p>

-

-<p>"You're a set of villains!" said the old lady,

-wrathfully.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, law!" groaned the conductor, "I'm sick of

-these fusses. Pick up her traps, Jack."</p>

-

-<p>"Come, little girl," said Jack, kindly, and 'Tilda

-Jane, seeing that the inevitable had once more over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>taken

-her, rose resignedly, but the too kind and

-officious old lady clung to her so wildly that the

-two men were forced to draw her away from her.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane, in a state of complete bewilderment

-totally unmixed with terror, for she had taken a

-liking to the kind face of her guide, trotted meekly

-after him into the shadow of a long V-shaped building.

-The platform was crowded with people. Two

-trains were standing at the station, and in a large

-dining-room on her right she saw thronged tables

-and hurrying waitresses.</p>

-

-<p>She was ushered into a room where there was a

-handsomely dressed woman with a flushed face and

-tearful eyes, a dejected looking boy and girl sitting

-very close to each other, a diminutive and poorly

-dressed German Jew, and a composed looking man

-sitting behind a small table.</p>

-

-<p>"I'll have to leave you now," said her guide.

-"Don't be scared, but speak up," and with a reassuring

-smile he disappeared.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER VI.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">DEAF AND DUMB.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane sat down on a bench in the corner

-and took the dog on her lap.</p>

-

-<p>The fashionably dressed woman was speaking and

-gesticulating earnestly in front of the man whose

-face was only a trifle less calm and stony than that

-of Ruth Ann.</p>

-

-<p>"I never heard of such a thing in my life&mdash;to

-take my sealskin coat from me in the dead of winter.

-Now if it was summer, it wouldn't be so bad. My

-nice coat that cost me four hundred and seventy-five

-dollars."</p>

-

-<p>The man listened stolidly.</p>

-

-<p>"And you tell me your government orders you

-to take ladies' jackets from them. It seems incredible!"</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane curiously scanned the garment under

-discussion. It certainly was very handsome.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"It is incredible, madam. The government does

-not wish to deprive ladies of their sealskin coats. It

-merely requires its custom officials, of whom I am

-one, to enforce the law which has been made to prevent

-the importation of sealskin coats free of duty."</p>

-

-<p>"And have you taken many jackets?" sneered

-the woman.</p>

-

-<p>The official gazed at her in frigid silence.</p>

-

-<p>"I'll go right back to Toronto, where I live," she

-said, indignantly. "I was going to buy my daughter's

-trousseau in New York, but I'll spend every

-cent at home. That's the way we will make New

-York suffer on account of your government being

-so hateful!" and she flounced from the room. The

-man behind the table cast a leisurely glance over

-the remaining occupants of the room. Then he

-addressed the dejected boy and girl.</p>

-

-<p>"Hello, you!&mdash;what's your name?"</p>

-

-<p>"Thaddeus and Mary Lee," said the boy, mournfully.</p>

-

-<p>"Brother and sister?"</p>

-

-<p>"Man and wife," responded the boy, lugubriously.</p>

-

-<p>The assistant inspector elevated his eyebrows.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"What ages?"</p>

-

-<p>"Nineteen and seventeen," sighed the lad.</p>

-

-<p>"Where are you going?"</p>

-

-<p>"To Boston."</p>

-

-<p>"What for?"</p>

-

-<p>"To look for work."</p>

-

-<p>"Got any money?"</p>

-

-<p>"Two dollars and seventy cents."</p>

-

-<p>"That all?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, sir."</p>

-

-<p>"What place do you come from?"</p>

-

-<p>"Chickaminga, Quebec."</p>

-

-<p>"You'll take the 8.15 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span> train back to-morrow,"

-said the man, briefly. "Now, Deutscher," and he

-nodded to the German Jew.</p>

-

-<p>The boy and girl left the room, hand in hand,

-with melancholy clothing them like a garment, and

-'Tilda Jane gazed after them with wide-open eyes.

-Her attention, however, was soon distracted, for the

-little Jew, the instant he was indicated, sprang from

-his seat, extended both hands, and nimbly skipping

-over the floor between his numerous bundles, overwhelmed

-the inspector with a flood of German.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>The inspector leaned back in his chair and at last

-put up a hand with a commanding, "Halt!"</p>

-

-<p>The old man paused open-mouthed, and the inspector

-went on in German: "You left your home,

-you crossed the sea, you wish to go to Portland to

-relatives&mdash;so far, so good, but where are your

-papers?"</p>

-

-<p>The old man broke into a second burst of

-eloquence.</p>

-

-<p>"Your certificate," reiterated the inspector, "your

-writing from the captain of the ship."</p>

-

-<p>The old man shook his head sadly. He had no

-papers.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane did not understand a word of what he

-was saying, but his gestures were expressive, and she

-anxiously watched his interlocutor.</p>

-

-<p>"Where did you land?" asked the inspector.</p>

-

-<p>"In Halifax, Nova Scotia."</p>

-

-<p>"From what ship?"</p>

-

-<p>"<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Das Veilchen.</i>"</p>

-

-<p>"Captain's name?"</p>

-

-<p>"Strassburger."</p>

-

-<p>"Your name?"</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Franz Veier."</p>

-

-<p>"I'll telegraph him. That's all."</p>

-

-<p>"And can I not go to my friends now&mdash;at once?

-They are waiting, they are expecting. We have so

-much to say."</p>

-

-<p>"No," said the inspector, and as the German burst

-out into groans and lamentations, he waved him from

-the room.</p>

-

-<p>When the door closed, and 'Tilda Jane felt that the

-cold and scrutinising eyes of the inspector were fixed

-on her, she was stricken with sudden dumbness.

-How these people had talked! She could not in a

-month utter as much as they had said in a few

-minutes. The result of their loquacity had been a

-seeming paralysis of her organs of speech.</p>

-

-<p>"What's your name, little girl?" said the official,

-with slight geniality.</p>

-

-<p>Her lips parted, but no sound came from them.</p>

-

-<p>"<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Sprechen Sie Deutsch?</i>" he asked, agreeably.</p>

-

-<p>She shook her head, not from any knowledge of

-his meaning, but to signify her disinclination for

-speech.</p>

-

-<p>"<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Parlez-vous français</i>?" he went on, patiently.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>Her head again negatived this question, and he

-inquired in Spanish if she knew that tongue.</p>

-

-<p>The shaking of the head became mechanical, and

-as the inspector knew seventeen languages, he

-addressed her successively in each one of them.</p>

-

-<p>After she had shaken her head at them all, he

-surveyed her a few seconds in meditative silence.

-Then he began to talk on his fingers. She was

-probably deaf and dumb.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane joyfully uncurled her hands from the

-bundle on her lap. This was a safe medium of conversation,

-for talking on the fingers had been a

-favourite amusement of the orphans during silence

-hours; and she would not be tempted to say too

-much, and betray the fact that she was a runaway.

-Accordingly, she spelled out the information, "I am

-an orphan."</p>

-

-<p>"Where do you come from?" he asked her.</p>

-

-<p>"A long ways off," her finger tips informed him.</p>

-

-<p>"Name of place?"</p>

-

-<p>"I can't tell you," she responded.</p>

-

-<p>"Where are you going?" he inquired.</p>

-

-<p>"To&mdash;" she hesitated about the spelling of Cis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>casset,

-but got something near enough to it for him

-to understand.</p>

-

-<p>"Any relatives there?" he spelled on his fingers.</p>

-

-<p>"No."</p>

-

-<p>"Going to visit?'</p>

-

-<p>"No."</p>

-

-<p>"Have you any money?" he next asked her, and

-she politely and speedily informed him that she had

-fifty cents.</p>

-

-<p>"You must tell me where you come from," came

-next from him in peremptory finger taps.</p>

-

-<p>"No, sir," she replied, with spirited movements.</p>

-

-<p>"Then you'll stay here till you do," he responded,

-and with a yawn he rose, turned his back to her, and

-looked out of the window.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane took up her dog, and slipped out of

-the room. She was not frightened or sorry for the

-deception she had just practised. It did not seem to

-her that it was deception. For the time being she

-was deaf and dumb, and, far from being alarmed by

-her helpless condition, she possessed the strong conviction

-that she would be well taken care of. She

-had also ceased to worry about the board of lady<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>

-managers, and in her present comfortable, callous

-state of mind she reflected that she might stay here a

-year, and they would never think of looking for her

-in a railway station. She was lost to them, and she

-gaily hummed a tune as she strolled to and fro on

-the big wooden platform, watching the shunting

-engines, the busy custom-house officers, and the

-station yard employees, who were cleaning, rubbing,

-scouring, and preparing cars for further journeys.</p>

-

-<p>At twelve o'clock, just as she was beginning to

-stifle yawns, and gaze wistfully at the windows of

-the dining-room, a young girl in a white apron

-came and stood in the doorway, and, shading her

-eyes from the sun shining in such dazzling brightness

-on the snow, beckoned vigorously to 'Tilda

-Jane.</p>

-

-<p>The little girl needed no second invitation, and,

-with her dog limping behind her, trotted nimbly

-toward her new friend.</p>

-

-<p>"Poor little soul&mdash;she's deef and dumb," said

-the dining-room girl, compassionately, as she passed

-a group of men in the hall. "Ain't it a pity?"</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane did not speak or smile, nor did her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>

-conscience, often so troublesomely sensitive, now

-give one reproving twinge. Since talking to the

-inspector she felt as if deaf and dumb. She had

-been officially proclaimed so, and in meek patience

-she seated herself at the table, calmly pointed to

-what she wished, and, being most tenderly and

-assiduously waited upon by the pitying girl, ate a

-large and excellent dinner.</p>

-

-<p>At the orphan asylum there had never been fare

-such as this, and, after she had finished her chocolate

-pudding, and put in her pocket a juicy orange

-that she could not possibly eat, she bowed her head,

-and internally and thankfully repeated the orphanage

-grace after meat.</p>

-

-<p>"Just look at her!" exclaimed the admiring girl.

-"Ain't she cute? What kind of folks must she have

-to let such a poor little innocent travel alone? I

-don't believe she's obstinate. That assistant inspector

-is as hateful as he can be. Come, sissy,

-and I'll show you to your room," and she approached

-'Tilda Jane, and took her by the hand.</p>

-

-<p>The latter pointed to her dog, and not until she

-had seen him satisfy the demands of his appetite,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>

-would she consent to follow her guide to a neat

-little apartment in the top of the wooden hotel.</p>

-

-<p>Upon arriving there, she thanked the girl by

-a smile, closed the door, and, throwing herself on

-her bed, was soon buried in sweet and wholesome

-slumber.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER VII.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">CLEARING UP A MISTAKE.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>That evening, when some of the custom-house

-officials and some of the guests of the hotel were

-sitting tipped back in chairs in the smoking-room,

-the assistant inspector said to the inspector, who

-had just come in, "I couldn't make anything of

-your deaf and dumb kid, Jack."</p>

-

-<p>"What deaf and dumb kid?" asked Jack, seating

-himself, and drawing out his cigar case.</p>

-

-<p>"That young one with the bundle."</p>

-

-<p>"She ain't deaf and dumb. Her tongue's hung

-as limber as yours."</p>

-

-<p>"Well, I swan!" said the assistant inspector,

-blankly, and, as he spoke, he brought his chair

-down on its four legs, and gazed about the room

-with an expression of such utter helplessness that

-the other men broke into a roar of laughter.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Don't cry, Blakeman," said Jack, soothingly.

-"It's only once in a coon's age you're fooled."</p>

-

-<p>"Do you suppose the slyboots has gone to bed?"

-asked Blakeman, again tipping back his chair, and

-returning to his professional manner. "Uncle Sam

-hasn't got any spare cash to waste on such like.

-Just open the door, Rufus, and see if you see any

-of the girls about."</p>

-

-<p>A dining-room girl good-naturedly consented to

-go in search of 'Tilda Jane, and upon entering the

-room found her on her knees thoughtfully looking

-down at the railway tracks running close to the

-hotel.</p>

-

-<p>Stepping forward and gently touching her shoulder,

-the girl pointed down-stairs.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane nodded, smiled, and, taking her hand,

-went out into the hall and down the staircases with

-her. 'Tilda Jane stared at the ring of men sitting

-in the smoking-room. When she caught sight of

-her friend of the morning, she smiled and bobbed

-her head at him, then, letting her dog slip from her

-arm to the floor, she stood in silence, waiting to be

-questioned.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>She had no doubt that this was some special tribunal

-called together to deliberate upon her case. She

-was not afraid of these men, they had kindly faces.</p>

-

-<p>"What made you pretend you were deaf and

-dumb?" asked the inspector, at last.</p>

-

-<p>She opened her mouth once or twice, tried to

-speak, failed, and at last articulated with difficulty,

-and with an air of genuine surprise, "Why&mdash;ain't

-I deef an' dumb? I ain't spoke ever since he made

-me think so till now," and she nodded toward the

-assistant inspector.</p>

-

-<p>"I made you think so!" ejaculated Blakeman,

-irritably.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, sir," she said, dreamily, and lingering over

-her syllables as if she found a new pleasure in the

-exercise of speech. "You had so much to say, an'

-the other people had so much to say, that the room

-seemed chock full o' words. They was flyin' round

-ever so thick, but I couldn't ketch one o' them."</p>

-

-<p>"Well, now, you've got to quit lying and tell us

-where you come from," said the assistant inspector,

-roughly. "You've got to be sent home to-morrow."</p>

-

-<p>"Sent home?" she repeated wonderingly.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Yes&mdash;to Canada. Now tell us the name of

-the place you belong to, or we'll ship you to some

-poorhouse."</p>

-

-<p>"Do I come from Canada?" she asked, with a

-mystified air.</p>

-

-<p>Jack jogged his assistant's elbow. "Seemed to

-me there was the smell of a ship about her."</p>

-

-<p>"Not so," responded Blakeman who prided himself

-on distinguishing nationalities. "She hasn't

-any European accent. She's from right over the

-border here somewhere."</p>

-

-<p>"Do you know my mother?" 'Tilda Jane was

-eagerly asking the assistant inspector.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes&mdash;know her well. If you don't speak up

-I'll telegraph her."</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, I'll never speak then," said 'Tilda Jane,

-taking a step forward and clasping her hands painfully.

-"Oh, sir, do telegraph to my mother. I've

-cried an' cried at nights 'bout her. Other girls has

-mothers that loves 'em an' strokes their hair, an'

-nobody ever done that to me. They just thinks I'm

-ugly. Oh, sir, oh, sir, won't you telegraph my

-mother?"</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>Blakeman had gone too far. The sentiment of the

-meeting was against him, and a low murmur warned

-him to retract what he had said.</p>

-

-<p>"I don't mean your mother," he said, sulkily. "I

-mean your guardians."</p>

-

-<p>"The lady-boards?" asked 'Tilda Jane, eagerly.</p>

-

-<p>He did not know what "lady-boards" meant, but

-his silence seemed to give assent to her question,

-and losing the bright flush that had come to her

-face, she relapsed into painful and profound silence.</p>

-

-<p>He would never know how he had hurt her. Oh!

-what hopes he had raised, and in an instant dashed

-to the ground, and checking the convulsion in her

-throat, she stealthily wiped away the two tears of

-distress coursing down her thin cheeks.</p>

-

-<p>"Don't cry," said Jack, kindly. "I expect you're

-tired from your trip in the train yesterday. You

-had a pretty long one, hadn't you?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, Mr. Jack," she said, humbly. "It seemed

-kind o' long, but I'm not used to bein' drug along

-so mighty quick."</p>

-

-<p>"I didn't notice her till we passed McAdam

-Junction," whispered Jack to his assistant. "She's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>

-come down from some place in New Brunswick.

-Telegraph McAdam."</p>

-

-<p>"They'll not know," growled Blakeman. "Robinson

-on yesterday's Montreal express is the man.

-He'll be back to-night. He'll know where she got

-on. If he'd reported, 'twould have saved this."</p>

-

-<p>"I guess he didn't think we'd struck such an

-obstacle," remarked Jack, with a chuckle. Then he

-said aloud, "Don't you suppose they'll be worrying

-about you, sissy?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, sir," she said, meekly, "they'll be more mad

-than worried."</p>

-

-<p>"You haven't lost that paper with the address,

-have you?" said Jack, cunningly.</p>

-

-<p>"No, sir," and she put her hand to her breast.</p>

-

-<p>He got up and walked toward her. "Let me see

-if I can read it."</p>

-

-<p>"There's no 'casion for that," she said, with

-dignity.</p>

-

-<p>"You'll have to let me see it," he said, firmly, so

-firmly that it being no part of her plan to "<ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'dare the undarable'">dare the

-undareable</ins>," she quietly handed Hank's card to him.</p>

-

-<p>"Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset, Maine," he read, then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>

-he gave it back to her. "Thank you, sissy. I

-guess you can go to bed now."</p>

-

-<p>"In a minute," said 'Tilda Jane, submissively,

-while she made a queer bob of a curtsey to all

-present. "Gen'l'men all&mdash;before I go I must say

-somethin'. Up-stairs jus' now I was ponderin' on my

-wickedness. I guess you think I don't know that all

-liars has their portion in the lake o' fire an' brimstone.

-I knows it an' feels it, but gen'l'men I ain't

-told no more lies nor I could help. That 'bout bein'

-deef an' dumb I can't call a lie, 'cause I felt it, an'

-I'm s'prised now to hear myself talk. But I have

-told lies, an' I know it. To-day I had a boss dinner.

-I went to sleep an' on my bed I dreamed. Somethin'

-roared an' shook the house an' I woke in a

-sweat. Did I think the devil had come after me?

-Yes, sirs&mdash;gen'l'men, I've been awful bad, I don't

-s'pose any of you knows what such badness is. I'm

-afeared I've got to go on lyin' till I like lies better'n

-truth. That's what the&mdash;what ladies I has known

-said would happen to little girls as stepped aside

-from the paths of righteousness."</p>

-

-<p>The men were all staring at her, the assistant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>

-inspector most intently, for this flow of language

-from the supposedly deaf and dumb child surprised

-even him&mdash;a man used to surprises.</p>

-

-<p>"I'm goin' to repent some day," continued 'Tilda

-Jane, sadly, "just as soon as I get out o' this, an'

-enjoyin' fam'ly life. I'm goin' to repent of all 'cept

-one thing, an' I can't repent 'bout that 'cause I

-dunno if it's wrong. Do you like dogs?" and she

-abruptly addressed the assistant inspector.</p>

-

-<p>"No," he said, brusquely.</p>

-

-<p>"What do you like?" she went on, wistfully,

-"cats, birds, children&mdash;do you like girls, sir, nice

-little girls with blue eyes an' curly hair?"</p>

-

-<p>The assistant inspector was a remarkably fine

-blond specimen of a man, and, as he was popular

-among the young women of the neighbourhood,

-'Tilda Jane's artless question produced a burst of

-laughter from his companions, and a furious flaming

-of colour in his own face.</p>

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-<a name="p092" id="p092"></a>

-<img src="images/p092.jpg" width="500" alt="" />

-<div class="caption">"'I'M GOIN' TO REPENT SOME DAY.'"</div>

-<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>

-</div>

-

-<p>Her question had gone home, and she proceeded.

-"Suppose you had a nice little girl an' some one wanted

-to take her away, an' frighten her, an' tie jinglin' things

-to her an' make her run, an' you'd ketch her up an'

-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>run off to the woods, would that be awful wicked,

-do you s'pose, an' would you have to repent?"</p>

-

-<p>The assistant inspector preserved a discreet and

-resentful silence, but two or three of his companions

-murmured between their pipe-stems and their lips,

-"Not much he wouldn't."</p>

-

-<p>"Now that's what troubles me," 'Tilda Jane continued.

-"The rest is bad, but is that bad? I guess

-I'll have to ask some minister, an', gen'l'men all,

-I guess you'd better let me go on to Ciscasset.

-You've got a nice place here, an' plenty o' things

-to eat, an' I think you're very fair, but I feel like

-movin' on," and pausing, she anxiously scanned the

-row of faces about her.</p>

-

-<p>"Run away to bed now," said Jack. "We'll tell

-you to-morrow what you're to do," and as 'Tilda

-Jane picked up her pet and disappeared, he sauntered

-across the room, took up a telegraph form, and

-addressed a message to the creamery shark's father.</p>

-

-<div class="blockquot fs80">

-

-<p>"Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset. Girl, age about twelve. Dark

-hair, eyes&mdash;run away from place unknown. Going to your

-address. Held as immigrant without means. Refuses to give

-name. Can you supply any information? Answer paid for."</p></div>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">A THIRD RUNNING AWAY.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>"Look here, little girl," said Jack, stopping 'Tilda

-Jane as she was coming out of the dining-room the

-next morning, "I've had a telegram from your friend

-in Ciscasset."</p>

-

-<p>"An' what does he say?" she asked, breathlessly.</p>

-

-<p>"I'll read it," and he drew a paper from his

-pocket. "Never heard of girl. Don't want her.

-Hobart Dillson."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane looked crestfallen, but did not flinch

-in face of the new difficulty. "He's a cranky ole

-man. He'll be all right when I talk to him."</p>

-

-<p>"Well, you're a queer fish," muttered her friend,

-as by way of hiding her chagrin she went quickly

-up-stairs. "We can't do anything with you till

-Robinson gets back, and tells us where he picked

-you up."</p>

-

-<p>The assistant inspector met her in the hall above.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>

-"Have you made up your mind to talk yet?" he

-asked, austerely.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane shook her head.</p>

-

-<p>"I've been amusing myself by telegraphing along

-the line," he said, in the same tone of voice. "None

-of the stations know anything about you, and the

-agent at McAdam has started off in the woods for

-his holidays. The conductor that brought you is

-laid up from an accident to his train, so you've got

-to speak for yourself; and do you know what I've

-made up my mind to do?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, sir," she said, steadily.</p>

-

-<p>"By to-night if you won't tell me where you

-come from, I'm going to take that dog away from

-you."</p>

-

-<p>Her face turned a sickly yellow, but she did not

-quail. "You wouldn't shoot him, would you?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, I won't shoot him," he said, deliberately.

-"I guess I'd give him to some nice little girl who

-wouldn't tell lies."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane's head sank on her breast. "Gimme

-till to-morrow morning, sir. I'd like to think it

-over."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"I'll see about it," he said, with a curious glance

-at her; then he went away.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane knew that he would give her till the

-morning. She would not be troubled by him all

-day. She would have time to think. The worst

-difficulty in her experience confronted her. She

-would lose her dog in any case. To speak was to

-be sent back to the asylum, to remain silent was

-to let her Gippie become the cherished darling of

-some other girl, and in mute agony she caressed

-the smooth brown head, and put her hand before

-the almost sightless eyes as if she would hide from

-them even a suspicion of coming danger.</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Jack had just stepped on one of the out-going

-trains. She could not appeal to him, and the

-table-girls, since they had found that she was a

-story-teller, slighted her in a most marked way.</p>

-

-<p>She wandered down-stairs and out-of-doors. All

-day she loitered about the station platform watching

-the trains come in,&mdash;deliberate freight-trains,

-with their loads of merchandise, all to be examined

-by the busy customs officials, and rushing express

-trains, with their hundreds of hungry passengers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>

-who swept in crowds into the spacious dining-room.</p>

-

-<p>She saw her companions in captivity borne away.

-The fashionable lady got on a train that was entering

-Canada, and the dismal boy and girl followed

-her. The little German Jew, who had been roaming

-about the hotel like a restless ghost, always with

-his hat on and a bundle in his hand as if he wished

-to impress all beholders with the fact that he was

-only tarrying for a short time, had, on the receipt

-of a telegram informing the inspectors that he had

-merely forgotten his papers, become a happy maniac.

-He ran to and fro, he collected his bundles, dropped

-them, to kiss the hand of a table-girl who gave him

-some cakes for his lunch, and had to be restrained

-by main force from boarding every train that pulled

-up at the station.</p>

-

-<p>Fortunate travellers and unfortunate orphan!

-She could not get on one of the trains and be borne

-away. She was watched; she felt it, for she had

-now a perfect comprehension of the system of

-espionage established over unsuspecting travellers.

-The rich and well-dressed ones were passed by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>

-unless they were wearing sealskin wraps, the poor

-and penniless must give an account of themselves.

-So there was no escape for her by train. She must

-take to the road.</p>

-

-<p>She had better go lie down and try to sleep, she

-reflected with a shudder, as she had now before her

-the prospect of another night in the woods. As

-soon as it got dark, she must try to slip away from

-the hotel.</p>

-

-<p>At six o'clock she had had her nap and was in

-her favourite spot on her knees by her open window.

-Night was approaching, and she felt neither sorry,

-nor frightened, nor apprehensive. The sun was

-going down, and she was so completely wrapped in

-deep and silent content that she could neither speak

-nor think. She did not know that she was an ardent

-lover of nature&mdash;that her whole soul was at the

-present moment so filled with the glory of the winter

-evening that she had no room for her own troubles.</p>

-

-<p>The clanging supper-bell disturbed her, and, with

-a sigh and a look of longing farewell at the sky,

-she closed the window and made her way to the

-dining-room.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>After supper she returned to her post, and, as

-she could not now see the glorious sky and the

-snowy fields, she let her attention fall upon the

-trains below that had begun to have a strange

-fascination for her. She had lost all fear of them

-by this time, and had even begun to notice that

-there were differences in them just as there were

-differences in people. Some were big and bulky,

-others were quick and dashing. Some had hoarse

-voices, some clear ones. The Canadian engines

-coming in shrieked in one tone, the American ones,

-passing them from the other direction, replied in

-another.</p>

-

-<p>Hour after hour went by, and with the time her

-sense of dreamy contentment faded away. It gave

-her but little dismay to look out into the starlit

-night and fancy herself alone in snowy solitudes,

-but it gave her considerable dismay to look down

-below, and find that the hotel was neither getting

-dark nor perfectly quiet, as she fancied all well-regulated

-houses did at night. She had forgotten

-that they could not sleep here, at least everybody

-could not. Trains were coming and going all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>

-time, and with this constant supervision below, how

-could she evade detection?</p>

-

-<p>"Number seventeen is an hour late and getting

-later every minute," she heard some one call after

-a time; "bad snow-drifts up north."</p>

-

-<p>"Guess I'll take a wink of sleep," a tired voice

-responded, "there'll be nothing but freights for a

-spell," and then followed comparative silence.</p>

-

-<p>Footsteps were only occasionally heard, fewer

-lights flashed in the distance, and it was only at

-much longer intervals that passing trains shook

-the house. There was a lull in the constant

-noises, and now was the time for action. She

-rose stealthily, and took her dog in her arms&mdash;a

-pathetic child figure no longer, but a wary, stealthy

-little elf endeavouring to escape from danger

-threatened by these larger and more powerful

-human beings.</p>

-

-<p>Her sleeping-room was a tiny chamber opening

-out of one occupied by two of the dining-room

-girls. She was not afraid of their waking. She

-had heard them say as they undressed that they had

-to get up at half-past four to iron table-cloths and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>

-napkins, and there was not an instant's interruption

-of their heavy, dreamless slumber as she stole noiselessly

-by them.</p>

-

-<p>Now for the staircase. She paused anxiously at

-the top, and looked down. There was no one in

-sight, and holding her breath, and tiptoeing cautiously,

-she stole down step by step.</p>

-

-<p>At last she was at the bottom of both flights of

-stairs. So far so good, and she laid her hand on

-the knob of the front door that was never locked.

-But stop, let her pause&mdash;there were sounds outside.</p>

-

-<p>Some one out there hesitated, halted, and remarked

-to some other person behind, "Will you

-come in and have a bite of something to eat?"</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane scarcely dared to breathe, and, gazing

-down the hall behind her, shook in her substantial

-shoes. She could see the office at the end of the

-hall, and the sleepy clerk napping at his desk. If

-she retreated toward him, he might wake up and

-discover her, and if the men entered she could not

-possibly avoid being caught by them.</p>

-

-<p>In intense anxiety she awaited results. There

-were only a few seconds of uncertainty, then her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>

-heart gave a bound of thankfulness. The footsteps

-had passed on, and only waiting till they died away,

-she opened the door and glided through.</p>

-

-<p>Now she was on the brightly lighted platform at

-the mercy of any passer-by, or any wakeful person

-who might be at one of the hotel windows. She

-made one swift rush across it, one leap over the

-railway tracks, and with a stifled exclamation of

-thankfulness found herself on the village road.</p>

-

-<p>Like a dark, diminutive ghost she sped up the

-hill past the silent houses. Now she was comparatively

-safe, yet which way should she go? She was

-completely puzzled, yet she had a vague idea that

-there were great forests surrounding Vanceboro, for

-she had heard the men at the hotel talk of fishing

-and shooting.</p>

-

-<p>Trembling in every limb from excitement, and

-pressing her precious bundle closely to her, she took

-a road to the left. She must not go to the right,

-for across the river was Canada, and if she got into

-that foreign country again, she would have fresh

-difficulties in returning to her own native one. She

-would press on through the village, take to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>

-woods, and trust to luck to find some house where

-she could ask the way to Ciscasset.</p>

-

-<p>There was a moon to-night, an old, pale moon,

-and it cast a tremulous light over the soft, white

-fields sloping down to the Sainte-Croix River, the

-sleeping village, and the brightly lighted station yard

-in the hollow. She turned around, took one farewell

-glance at the habitations of men, and plunged into

-the winding road leading into the heart of the forest.</p>

-

-<p>Hour after hour she plodded on. This reminded

-her of her walk with Ruth Ann two evenings before,

-only here there was more light, the snow was deeper,

-and the trees were not as high as those on the way

-to the Moss Glen station. She hoped with a shiver

-that she should meet no wild beasts. Hark! What

-was that crashing through the alder bushes? She

-stopped short, clasped her dog to her breast, and

-looked about for some means of defence. Nothing

-offered but a dry tree branch, and she was just

-bending over to seize it when there rushed by her,

-so quickly that she had no time to be afraid, an

-object that caused a faint smile of pleasure to come

-to her pale lips.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>This was a large deerhound running along with

-his nose to the snow, and he paid no more attention

-to her than if she had been one of the stumps by

-the side of the road.</p>

-

-<p>"Here, doggie, doggie!" she called, wistfully, but

-he did not return, and, startled by the sound of her

-voice in the intense stillness, she hastily resumed

-her way.</p>

-

-<p>How solemn the moon was, staring down at her

-with that section of a face on which she fancied she

-saw an ear, the corner of a mouth, and one terrible,

-glistening eye. "Little girl, where are you going?

-Are you doing right? Are you not a naughty little

-girl?"</p>

-

-<p>"I can't think about it now," she said, desperately.

-"When I git settled down I'll square things

-up. Anyway, I'm not bad for the fun of it. Law

-me, ain't this road long! Here, Gippie, I guess you

-might walk a few steps. Keep in my tracks an' I'll

-not let anythin' hurt you. If a bear comes, he'll

-eat me first. It'll do you good to stretch your legs

-a mite."</p>

-

-<p>Away back in the hotel Mr. Jack was just getting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>

-home. "We can let our deaf and dumb kid go in

-the morning," he said to his assistant, who got on

-the train as he left it. "The waitress at McAdam

-was just inquiring about her&mdash;says she's U. S.

-all right. Came from Moss Glen station, didn't

-know Ciscasset when she got to it, and was carried

-on. Agent forgot to speak to Robinson about her,

-and the waitress wanted to know if she got through

-all right."</p>

-

-<p>"U. S.," grumbled the assistant inspector, pausing

-with his foot on the steps of the baggage-car, "why

-didn't she say so?"</p>

-

-<p>"Was frightened&mdash;I guess she'd run away&mdash;a

-case of innocence abroad."</p>

-

-<p>"Well, we can't hold her if she isn't an immigrant,"

-said Blakeman, with relief. "Let her go.

-They've got a poorhouse in Ciscasset, I suppose."</p>

-

-<p>"She'll go in no poorhouse," said Mr. Jack, with

-a chuckle. "She's too smart."</p>

-

-<p>If he could have seen at that moment the weary

-little figure toiling along the forest road, he would

-have uttered the appreciative adjective with even

-more energy. Tired, hungry, occasionally stooping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>

-to lift a handful of snow to her lips, 'Tilda Jane

-plodded on. Her thin figure was bent from fatigue.

-She had again picked up the wailing dog, and had

-slung him on her back in the shawl, yet there was

-not the slightest indication of faltering in her aspect.

-There were no clearings in the woods, no promise

-of settlement, yet her face was ever toward the

-promised land of Ciscasset, and her back to the

-place of captivity in Vanceboro.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER IX.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">LOST IN THE WOODS.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>Nothing could be more exquisitely beautiful than

-that winter morning in the Maine woods. The

-white glory of the snow, the stealing pink and gold

-glances of the sun, the bravery of the trees proudly

-rearing their heads aloft and stretching out their

-heavily laden arms,&mdash;all made a picture that filled

-with awe even the heart of rough Bob Lucas, unregistered

-guide and nominal lumberman, noted for his

-skill as hunter and poacher and his queer mingling

-of honesty, law-breaking, piety, and profanity.</p>

-

-<p>No, it was not a picture, it was reality, and he was

-a part of it. He was in it, he belonged to this

-glorious morning, the morning belonged to him, and

-he put up his hand and pulled off his cap.</p>

-

-<p>"Branching candlesticks on the altar of the

-Lord," he muttered as he surveyed the trees. "I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>

-feel like a vessel o' grace, more's the pity I can't

-take on the actions o' one."</p>

-

-<p>He stood lounging in the cabin door&mdash;red-haired,

-long-nosed, unkempt, and stalwart. Inside were his

-two sons getting the breakfast, and the appetising

-odour of frying bacon floated out on the fresh

-air.</p>

-

-<p>"Hi, Poacher&mdash;whot's up with you?" he suddenly

-exclaimed, and his gaze went to a deerhound

-of unusually sturdy build, who was ploughing

-through the snow toward the cabin.</p>

-

-<p>The dog wagged his tail, advanced, and, lifting

-toward him a countenance so bright with intelligence

-that it might almost be called human, opened

-his mouth, and dropped something at his master's

-feet.</p>

-

-<p>"Hello, boys!" said the man, stepping inside the

-cabin; "what in the name o' creation's this? I

-call it a morsel of woman's togs. Don't your

-mother wear aprons like it, or somethin'?"</p>

-

-<p>The two strapping lads in high boots and woollen

-shirts turned their red faces from the fireplace.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, siree," said the taller of them, fingering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>

-the scrap of cotton; "they call it something like

-jingo."</p>

-

-<p>"Gingham, you gull," interposed his brother, with

-a guffaw of laughter. "I've seen it in the stores.

-Where'd you get it, pop?"</p>

-

-<p>"Poacher fetched it. When I got out o' my

-bunk this mornin' an' opened the door, he put up

-that ole muzzle of his an' give a sniff. Then off

-he sot. I knew he'd got somethin' on his mind.

-He's been runnin' deer, an' he found this on his

-way back."</p>

-

-<p>"He's a beaut," said the other lad, eyeing him

-admiringly. "He's nosed out something. What'll

-you do, pop?"</p>

-

-<p>"Swaller some breakfast an' make tracks for

-Morse's camp."</p>

-

-<p>"S'pose it was some person," said the younger of

-the boys, uneasily.</p>

-

-<p>"By gum!" and the man suddenly smote his

-thigh, "s'pose the ole woman had run after us with

-somethin'. Hustle on your coats, boys. Mebbe it's

-your ma."</p>

-

-<p>The faces of both boys had turned white, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>

-their hands were shaking. Seizing their coats, they

-rushed out of the cabin.</p>

-

-<p>"Pop, it wasn't bitter last night," said the younger,

-in a hushed voice.</p>

-

-<p>"Shut up!" said his father, irritably, and in profound

-silence the three proceeded through the wood

-in single file, following the dog who, without excitement,

-but with his dark face beaming with pleasure

-at being understood, rapidly led them over his own

-tracks of a few minutes previous.</p>

-

-<p>Mile after mile they went in silence, until at last

-the father, who was leading, made a leap forward.</p>

-

-<p>There was a dark mound on the snow against a

-tree trunk, and dropping beside it he turned it over.</p>

-

-<p>"Thank the Lord!" he ejaculated, while scratching

-and beating the snow away from it, "it ain't

-what I feared."</p>

-

-<p>"Why, it's only a gal," said one of the boys. "Is

-she gone, pop?"</p>

-

-<p>"Here&mdash;shake her up," he replied. "What's

-this she's curled round? A dog, sure as thunder,

-an' alive an' warm. Merciful grindstones, look at

-him!"</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>Irritably stepping out of wrappings, consisting of

-a small tippet and a shawl, was a little old dog, the

-most utter contrast to the handsome deerhound that

-could have been imagined.</p>

-

-<p>The hound stared inquiringly and politely at Gippie,

-and, being a denizen of the woods, made the

-first overtures to friendship by politely touching him

-with the end of his muzzle.</p>

-

-<p>The smaller dog snapped at him, whereupon the

-hound withdrew in dignified silence, and watched his

-owners, who were making vigorous efforts to restore

-the benumbed girl.</p>

-

-<p>"Her heart's beatin'," said Lucas, putting his

-hand on it. "The dog lay there, an' kep' it warm."</p>

-

-<p>"Rub her feet&mdash;rub harder," he said to his sons,

-while he himself began chafing 'Tilda Jane's wrists.

-"She's jist the age o' your sister Min. S'pose she

-was here, stone cold an' half dead!"</p>

-

-<p>The boys redoubled their efforts at resuscitation,

-and presently a faint colour appeared in the little

-girl's marble cheeks, and the cold lips slightly moved.</p>

-

-<p>Lucas put his head down. "What you sayin'?

-Dog, is it? He's all right. If you'd wrapped your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>self

-more, an' him less, it might 'a' bin better. Yet,

-I guess not. If it hadn't 'a' bin for the dog, you'd

-'a' bin dead. Put on her shoes, boys. We'll carry

-her to that heap o' logs of ours."</p>

-

-<p>"Pop, will one of us have to show her out?" said

-Joe, anxiously pressing beside him.</p>

-

-<p>"Yep," said his father. "Here, strip off your

-coat an' put it round her."</p>

-

-<p>"An' I s'pose I'll hev to go 'cause I'm the youngest,"

-said the boy, bitterly.</p>

-

-<p>"No, sir&mdash;you're always doin' dirty work. This

-time it'll be Zebedee."</p>

-

-<p>Zebedee frowned, and muttered that he wished

-girls would stay out o' the woods; then he tramped

-on beside his brother.</p>

-

-<p>"Here, gimme my gun," said Lucas, presently.

-"You-uns is younger. You kin carry the gal."</p>

-

-<p>He had been carrying 'Tilda Jane over his shoulder,

-and now the little procession started again, this

-time with the boys bearing the semi-unconscious

-burden.</p>

-

-<p>Gippie, squealing and complaining, followed behind

-as well as he was able, but finally, becoming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>

-stuck in a drift, gave a despairing yell and disappeared.</p>

-

-<p>Lucas turned around, went in the direction of

-the crooked tail sticking up from the snow, and

-pulling him out, contemptuously took him under

-his arm.</p>

-

-<p>"If you was my dog, you'd get a bullet to eat.

-Howsomever, you ain't, an' I guess we'll hev to

-keep you for the leetle gal. Git on thar, sons."</p>

-

-<p>Two hours later, 'Tilda Jane opened her eyes on

-a new world. Where had her adventures brought

-her this time? Had she died and gone to heaven?

-No, this must be earth, for she had just heard a

-string of very bad words uttered by some one near

-her. But she could not think about anything. A

-feeling of delicious languor overpowered her, and

-slowly opening and shutting her eyes, she little by

-little allowed her surroundings to impress themselves

-upon her.</p>

-

-<p>She was very warm and comfortable; she was

-sitting on the floor, propped against the wall by

-means of an overturned chair and blankets; a fire

-in an open fireplace blazed beside her; Gippie was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>

-making his toilet before this fire, and she was very

-happy.</p>

-

-<p>"Here, sup this," some one said, and languidly

-lifting her eyelids, she saw a big red-haired man

-bending over her.</p>

-

-<p>He was holding a cup to her lips&mdash;coffee sweetened

-with molasses. Just what they used to have

-at the asylum, and with a faint smile, and a feeble

-"Thank you, sir," she slowly swallowed it.</p>

-

-<p>"I was scared to give you any before," he said,

-gruffly; "thought you might choke. Here, gimme

-some grub, sons."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane felt a morsel of something put in her

-mouth. It was followed by another morsel of something

-hot and savoury, and speedily she felt new life

-in her veins. She could sit up now, and look about

-her.</p>

-

-<p>"Guess you can feed yourself," said the man,

-going back to the table. "Fall to now&mdash;you most

-got to the end of your tether."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane took the two-pronged fork he put in

-her hand, and began to eat with slow avidity, not

-disregarding the requests for titbits from her dog,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>

-who occasionally paused for that purpose in his

-endeavours to lick himself dry.</p>

-

-<p>At intervals she cast a glance at the centre of

-the cabin, where a man and two boys were seated

-at a rough table. These must be her rescuers. She

-had fallen down in the snow the night before. Not

-even her fear of death had been able to keep her on

-her feet.</p>

-

-<p>She stopped eating. "Who be you?"</p>

-

-<p>"We be lumbermen, when the fit takes us," said

-the man, shortly.</p>

-

-<p>"Well," said 'Tilda Jane, "I guess&mdash;" then she

-stopped, overpowered by intense feeling.</p>

-

-<p>"I guess," she went on, finally, "that there

-wouldn't 'a' bin much o' me this morning if it hadn't

-bin for you comin'."</p>

-

-<p>"'Twasn't us," said the man, agreeably, "'twas

-Poacher there," and he indicated the dog under the

-table, who, at the mention of his name, rose and

-walked politely toward the little girl.</p>

-

-<p>He looked at her and she looked at him, then he

-took a step nearer and laid his muzzle on her

-shoulder. With exquisite subtlety he comprehended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>

-all that she wished to say in relation to himself,

-and all that she felt in relation to the dog race in

-general.</p>

-

-<p>She laid her cheek against his velvet ear. Then

-her arm stole around his neck.</p>

-

-<p>The dog stood in courteous silence, until, feeling

-embarrassed under her attention, he looked somewhat

-foolishly at his master, and appealingly licked

-'Tilda Jane's cheek.</p>

-

-<p>As quick to understand him as he was to understand

-her, she released him, whereupon he lay

-down beside her and put his handsome head on

-her lap.</p>

-

-<p>Gippie extended his muzzle, sniffed suspiciously,

-then his short-sighted eyes discovering the presence

-of a rival, he advanced snapping.</p>

-

-<p>The large dog generously averted his head, and

-Gippie, seeing that he was not to be dislodged,

-meanly curled himself up on Poacher's glossy

-back.</p>

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-<a name="p116" id="p116"></a>

-<img src="images/p116.jpg" width="650" alt="" />

-<div class="caption">"HE LAY DOWN BESIDE HER."</div>

-<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>

-</div>

-

-<p>"Yes, that's a boss dog," the man went on.

-"Search the State from Fort Kent to Kittery

-Depot, and you'll not find a cuter. He's given me

-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>pointers many a time&mdash;where you hail from, leetle

-gal?"</p>

-

-<p>"I'm going to Ciscasset," she said, dreamily.

-Her mind was running back to the night before,

-and, unaware that she was holding a piece of

-bacon poised on her fork in tempting proximity

-to Poacher's nose, she stared intently at the fire.</p>

-

-<p>She had been near death. Had she been near

-the heaven that the matron and the "lady-boards"

-pictured, or would it have been the other place, on

-account of her disobedience?</p>

-

-<p>"The soul that sinneth it shall die"&mdash;"For whosoever

-shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in

-one point, he is guilty of all"&mdash;"Keep thyself

-pure"&mdash;"For without are dogs, and sorcerers,

-and murderers, and idolaters, and whosoever loveth

-and maketh a lie"&mdash;that meant without the city,

-the beautiful city of gold where her mother probably

-was, and many of her unknown relatives,

-and where all good matrons, orphans, and "lady-boards"

-went.</p>

-

-<p>"I guess I'd bin without, with no comfort but

-the dogs," she thought bitterly, and pushing away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>

-her plate, she said aloud, "I thank ye kindly, but

-I can't swaller another morsel."</p>

-

-<p>A roar of laughter saluted her ears. Gippie's

-inquiring muzzle had scented out the bacon and

-had seized it, whereupon Poacher, knowing that it

-was not intended for him, had gently but firmly

-taken it from him, and was walking about the

-cabin, holding it aloft, while Gippie snarled at his

-heels.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane paid no attention to them. The

-greater matter of her soul's destiny was under

-consideration. "Are you an extry good man?"

-she abruptly asked her host.</p>

-

-<p>He stopped laughing, and a shadow came over

-his face. Then his glance went to his boys.

-"What you say, sons?"</p>

-

-<p>The boys stared at each other, avoided his eye,

-and said, uneasily, "Course you be, pop&mdash;don't

-make game."</p>

-

-<p>"Make game," repeated the man, strangely,

-"make game," then he laughed shortly, and made

-another onslaught on the bacon and bread.</p>

-

-<p>"'Cause I'm lookin' for an extry good person,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>

-went on 'Tilda Jane, brusquely. "Some one that

-won't blab, an' that I kin tell a story to."</p>

-

-<p>"Well, thar ain't no extry good persons in the

-woods," said her host, "we be only ordinary. You

-better wait till you git out. What was you doin'

-so far from houses last night, leetle gal, 'stead o'

-bein' tucked snug in bed?"</p>

-

-<p>"I might as well tell the truth," she said, helplessly.

-"I'm tired o' lies. I was runnin' away

-from somethin', but whether my runnin' was good

-or bad is what I can't make out."</p>

-

-<p>"While you're puzzlin' you eat some more breakfus',"

-said the man, getting up and putting another

-supply of bacon on her plate. "You've got to

-call up strength to git out. I s'pose you dunno

-you're some miles from sofas, an' pianos, an' easy

-chairs."</p>

-

-<p>"I didn't know where I was goin'," she said, apologetically,

-"or what I was comin' to. I jus' travelled

-on an' on. Then I begun to get queery an' I left

-the road. Thinks I, there'll be kind animiles in the

-woods. Mebbe I'll meet a nice black bear, an' he'll

-say, 'Little girl, you're lost an' I'll lead you to my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>

-den. We'll be happy to have you an' your little

-dog, an' I'll not let no one eat him, an' I'll give a big

-party an' invite all the foxes, an' deer, an' bears an'

-squirrels 'cause you're fond o' wild beasts, little girl.'

-An' it seemed I'd come to the bear's den, an' there

-was a soft bed, an' I just lay down, an' was goin' to

-sleep when I thought, 'Mebbe if I sleep, some little

-bird'll tell him I'm a baddie, an' he'll eat me up,' an'

-I felt just awful; then I forgot everythin' till I woke

-up here&mdash;I guess I'm obliged to you."</p>

-

-<p>The lumberman was about to reply to her when

-one of the boys ejaculated, "Hist, pop, look at

-Poacher!"</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER X.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">AMONG FRIENDS.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>The animal had gone to the door, and stood in a

-listening attitude.</p>

-

-<p>"Some one's comin'," said the boy. "Is everythin'

-snug?"</p>

-

-<p>The three cast hurried glances about the room,

-then shaking off a somewhat uneasy expression, the

-man stepped to the one and only window of the

-cabin.</p>

-

-<p>"Game warden Perch," he said, dryly, "and registered

-guide Hersey. Comin' spyin' round&mdash;bad

-luck to 'em," and he sulkily went back to the

-table.</p>

-

-<p>Presently there came a knocking at the door.

-"Come in," bawled Lucas, not inhospitably, and two

-men, much smarter, cleaner, and more dapper-looking

-than the red-haired man and his sons, entered the

-cabin.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Howdye," they said simultaneously, as they stood

-their guns and snow-shoes against the wall, and took

-possession of the two boxes vacated by the boys at a

-sign from their father. Then, with an appearance of

-enjoyment, they dragged the boxes near the fire, and

-stretched out their hands to the blaze.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane saw that they were staring in unmitigated

-astonishment at her, and with a feeling that

-she herself was out of the world and in a place where

-passers-by were few and infrequent, she examined

-them in equal interest.</p>

-

-<p>"Where'd you come from?" asked the elder of

-them at last, fixing her with a pair of piercing

-eyes.</p>

-

-<p>"She got keeled over on the old road last night,"

-spoke up Lucas, much to her relief. "Lost her

-way. Dog here, found her," and he motioned toward

-Poacher, who was surveying the newcomers in cold

-curiosity.</p>

-

-<p>Warden Perch's attention being drawn to the dog,

-he stared at him earnestly, then turned to his companion.

-"Ever see that animal before?"</p>

-

-<p>"Not near at hand," said the other, with a slight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>

-sneer. "Guess' I've seen his hind legs and the tip

-of his tail once or twice."</p>

-

-<p>"Hev some breakfus?" said Lucas, who was imperturbably

-going on with his own.</p>

-

-<p>Warden Perch inspected the table. "Not on bacon&mdash;haven't

-you got something more uncommon?"</p>

-

-<p>"We've got some beans in thar," said Lucas, with

-a backward nod of his head toward a bag on the

-floor, "coarse brown beans. They might be a treat

-for ye, seein' ye don't git 'em much in hotels."</p>

-

-<p>Perch flushed angrily and opened his mouth as if

-to make a retort. Then he drew a blank book from

-his pocket, and to calm himself ran his eye over the

-report he was making for the game commissioner of

-the State.</p>

-

-<p>"Left Nexter 10.55 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span> March 1, for Bluefield.

-March 2 at Bearville 11.30 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span> Jim Greene's camp

-Lake Clear at 4.35 <span class="fs70">P. M.</span> March 3 left camp at 7 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span>

-Bill Emerson's camp 9.47 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span> Reached moose yard

-on back side Fern Brook Ridge 1.47 <span class="fs70">P. M.</span> 3 moose

-in yard&mdash;Henry," he said, lifting his head and

-abruptly addressing his companion, "some of those

-poachers have mighty cute tricks."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>Henry nodded assent.</p>

-

-<p>"Those fellows at Hacmactac Station tried hard

-to fool us last week,&mdash;cut the legs off the deer, then

-got a couple of bears' feet and had the bone of the

-bear's leg slipped up under the skin on the leg of the

-deer. Then they put them up so sly in three layers

-of bagging with nothing but bears' feet sticking out,

-but I caught on to those bears' legs, and said the

-feet weren't big enough. So I had it opened and

-took the deer and the fellows to Mattawamkeag, and

-I guess they think forty dollars apiece was just about

-enough for a fine."</p>

-

-<p>Lucas and his sons burst out laughing, and 'Tilda

-Jane shrewdly suspected by their amused faces and

-knowing glances that they had heard the story before.

-There was no love lost between these newcomers

-and her preservers, and Lucas and his sons

-would be glad when their callers left the cabin. But

-what was all this talk about deer? Surely they did

-not kill the pretty creatures whom without having

-seen she loved.</p>

-

-<p>She cleared her throat and in a weak little voice

-addressed the game warden. "Sir, I've got pictures<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>

-in my joggafry of deer with branching horns. Does

-bad men kill them?"</p>

-

-<p>Warden Perch gave her another alert glance.

-Here was no confederate of poachers. "Yes," he

-said, severely, "bad men do kill them, and dogs chase

-them, but mind this, young girl&mdash;poachers get

-nabbed in the long run. They slide for a time, but

-there's a trip-up at the end. And their dogs, too&mdash;I've

-shot three hounds this week for dogging

-deer."</p>

-

-<p>"You have shot dogs!" repeated 'Tilda Jane, in

-a horrified tone, and pressing Gippie closer to her.</p>

-

-<p>"If I didn't shoot them, they'd kill the deer," said

-the man, irritably.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh!" murmured 'Tilda Jane. Here was one

-of the mysteries of nature that was quite beyond her

-comprehension. The dog hunted the deer, and the

-man hunted the dog. The deer apparently was the

-weaker one, and she must inquire into the matter.</p>

-

-<p>"What does bad men kill deer for?" she asked,

-timidly.</p>

-

-<p>"Haven't you ever eaten any deer meat?" asked

-the warden.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"I didn't know it was good to eat," she said,

-sadly.</p>

-

-<p>"You haven't had any here in this cabin?"</p>

-

-<p>"I guess not, unless I might 'a' eat it when I was

-fainty."</p>

-

-<p>Lucas eyed her peculiarly, and the meaning of the

-warden's question and offensive manner burst upon

-her. "That's a good man," she said, indignantly,

-starting from her half-reclining position and pointing

-to Lucas. "I guess men that takes little girls out

-o' snow-banks don't kill deer."</p>

-

-<p>Warden Perch laughed and rose from his seat.

-He had very little sentiment with regard to the

-animal creation. "I calculate we'd better be moving,"

-he said, to the guide. "Don't suppose we'd

-see anything to keep us here, unless we'd hang on

-for the big snow-storm they say is coming, and that

-I expect you're waiting for," and he looked at Lucas.</p>

-

-<p>"Me an' my sons," said the latter, coolly, "is on

-our way to David Morse's lumber camp. Two of

-his hands had to come out 'count o' sickness. We

-lay out to git thar this evenin'. Was late in startin'

-last night, an' camped here. We'll hev to git this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>

-leetle gal out, 'thout you might undertake it, seein'

-as you're makin' for outside, I s'pose."</p>

-

-<p>"Get your own find out," said the warden, severely;

-"it will keep you out of mischief, and look

-here&mdash;if I find that dog of yours up to tricks, you

-know what I'll do."</p>

-

-<p>"Shoot him on sight," said Lucas, stooping and

-patting the animal who was pressing close to him;

-"but you'll never ketch him, 'cause he ain't the sort

-o' dog to be ketched in any kind o' mischief; hey,

-Poacher?"</p>

-

-<p>The guide went out, and the warden with a scowl

-followed, slamming the door after him.</p>

-

-<p>Lucas and his sons crowded to the window to see

-their callers depart, and when they were fairly out

-of sight, they burst into relieved laughter, and noisily

-drew their boxes up to the fire.</p>

-

-<p>"Say, pop, ain't he mad?" remarked Joe, excitedly.

-"Mad 'cause you're too cute for him.

-He'd give his teeth to fasten something on to you."</p>

-

-<p>"Shut up," said his father, with a roll of his eye

-toward 'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>The girl was puzzled. Lucas, who seemed a nice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>

-man, was treated as if he were not a friend to the

-deer, while the departed ones, whom she did not like

-at all, seemed to be their protectors. "Who are

-those men?" she asked, curiously.</p>

-

-<p>"Wal, I'll tell you," said Lucas, taking two moose

-ear skins from his pocket, and fitting them together

-to make a tobacco-pouch, "them two is fancy game

-men. The warden an' the guide likes to lounge in

-easy chairs round hotels an' tell of their doin's in

-the woods, how the poachers tremble an' run when

-they see 'em comin'. As a rule, they don't take to

-the woods till they're druv to it by some complaint.

-Then they're awful fierce, an' growl an' show their

-teeth, an' run home. Nobody don't care nothin'

-for 'em."</p>

-

-<p>"Are there many men killing deer?" asked the

-little girl, falteringly.</p>

-

-<p>"Many men!" groaned Lucas. "Law me, what

-a question! Las' year, leetle gal, thar was awful

-heavy snow, eight foot deep in Franklin County,

-seven foot in Somerset, Piscataquis, Penobscot, and

-Aroostook. What a year for big game! They

-couldn't git away. They was as helpless as sheep.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>

-Storm came on storm, till we was walkin' up among

-the tree branches and knockin' off the snow with

-a stick. Snow covered tracks, and poachers took

-possession o' the airth."</p>

-

-<p>"They lived high in the lumber camps, pop, do

-you mind?" said Zebedee, smacking his lips.

-"When a fellow was starvin' the smell just come

-out to meet him."</p>

-

-<p>"You bet, only you wasn't thar to smell it," said

-his father, sharply, "you mind that. You young

-ones takes to the woods too natural."</p>

-

-<p>He surveyed them with mingled pride and dissatisfaction,

-then came back to his reminiscences. "I

-vum that was a winter, but the deer would 'a' starved

-if they hadn't been shot, for the snow was so deep

-that they couldn't get to their food. That there

-Perch made a great flurry about gettin' in an'

-drivin' six deer to a swamp where they could git

-green stuff, but I don't believe a word of it. I believe

-he shot and ate them."</p>

-

-<p>"Do you mind the deer that was dogged into our

-yard, pop?" exclaimed Joe. "I saw 'em as they

-crossed the river&mdash;dog not fifteen foot behind."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"And what became of that deer?" asked 'Tilda

-Jane, unsteadily.</p>

-

-<p>Lucas winked at his sons and concluded the story

-himself. "He run across our yard, an' among the

-bark pilers at Meek an' Sons' tannery. When the

-animal come runnin' down between the bark piles,

-some of the crew was for killin' him, but I was

-workin' thar, an' I wouldn't let 'em. He stayed

-round close to us all day, an' when any dog come

-an' sniffed at him, he'd run up close an' tremble,

-an' ask us to see fair play."</p>

-

-<p>"You killed that deer," exclaimed 'Tilda Jane,

-bursting into tears. "Oh! why does God let men

-be so wicked?"</p>

-

-<p>Sobs were almost tearing her little, lean frame to

-pieces. She had not worked up gradually to a

-pitch of emotion, but had fallen immediately into it,

-and Lucas and his sons stared wonderingly at her.</p>

-

-<p>Poor little girl! She looked as if she had come

-through a sea of troubles, and pity stirred in the

-man's rough but not unkindly breast.</p>

-

-<p>"Shut up now, shut up, missy," he said, soothingly.

-"We did shoot that feller, but thar warn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>

-nowhere to keep him, but deer has bin kep'. Soft

-now, an' I'll tell ye of Seth Winthrop, who has a

-park an' is a rich man. Las' year, when you couldn't

-go scarce five mile without seein' tracks o' blood in

-the snow where some one had been slaughterin', a

-moose was chased near Winthrop's place. He was

-so dead beat that he jus' stood an' trembled, an' one

-o' Winthrop's men put a halter on him, an' led him

-to the barnyard an' give him fodder an' drink, an'

-that livin' young moose is in Winthrop's park to-day,

-an' he weighs four hundred pound."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane was still sobbing, and Joe nudged his

-father. "Tell her 'bout the bear, pop."</p>

-

-<p>"Now here's somethin' that'll make you laugh,"

-said Lucas, kindly. "It's about a bad bear that

-went an' got drunk. I was on a fishin' trip, an' I

-had a jug o' black-strap with me. Know what that

-is, leetle gal?"</p>

-

-<p>"No-o-o," gasped 'Tilda Jane, who, rather

-ashamed of her emotion, was trying to sober herself.</p>

-

-<p>"Wal&mdash;it's the State o' Maine name for rum an'

-molasses mixed, an' you take it with you in case you

-git sick. There was some other men with me, an'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>

-they'd gone off in a boat on the lake. I had a gun,

-but 'pon my word I didn't think o' usin' it, 'count of

-gratitude to that b'ar for givin' me such a treat&mdash;just

-as good as a circus. Wal, I must tell how it

-happened. I didn't feel well that day&mdash;had a kind

-o' pain, an' I was lyin' on the bank in the sun,

-foolin' an' wishin' I was all right. By an' by,

-thinks I, I'll go to the camp an' hev a drink o' black-strap.

-I was mos' thar, when I met a wicked thief

-b'ar comin' out. Powers around, he was as tipsy as

-a tinker. He'd bin at my black-strap, an' I wish you

-could 'a' seen him. He didn't know where he was at,

-or where he wanted to be at, an' he was jolly, an'

-friendly, an' see-sawed roun' me, an' rolled an' swaggered

-till I tho't I'd die laughin'. My pain went

-like las' year's snow, an' I walked after that b'ar till

-he was out o' sight. Just like a drunken man he

-was, makin' for home, an' in the midst of all his

-foolery havin' an idea of where he'd oughter go.

-I'd 'a' given a good deal to see Mrs. B'ar's face when

-he arrove. An' didn't those other fellers give it to

-me for not shootin' him! I said I couldn't take a

-mean advantage of his sitooation."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane's face was composed now, and

-with a faint smile she reverted to the subject of

-the deer. "Don't you feel bad when you're

-killin' them, an' they looks at you with their big

-eyes?"</p>

-

-<p>"Look here, leetle gal, don't you talk no more

-'bout them, or you'll hev me as mush-hearted as you

-be," said Lucas, getting up and going to the window.

-"At present I ain't got no feelin' about deer excep'

-that what's in the woods is ours. You jus' stand up

-an' try your feet. It's goin' to snow, an' I'd like to

-git you out o' here. Did you ever try to teeter

-along on snow-shoes?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, sir," she said, getting up and walking across

-the room.</p>

-

-<p>Lucas was anxiously surveying the sky. "'Pears

-like it was goin' to snow any minute. The las' thaw

-took the heft of it off the ground&mdash;you'd 'a' never

-got in this fur if it hadn't&mdash;an' we're bound to hev

-another big fall. It ain't fur to the road, an' I guess

-you an' Zebedee better start. Lemme see you walk,

-sissy."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane tottered back to her seat.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"It's a smart trot home," observed Zebedee.

-"D'ye think she could foot it?"</p>

-

-<p>"Pop, it's snowin' now," said Joe, who had taken

-his father's place at the window.</p>

-

-<p>With almost incredible rapidity there had been

-a change in the weather. A small and sullen cloud

-had hidden the dreamy, thoughtful sun, and out of

-the cloud came wheeling, choking gusts, bearing

-bewildered snowflakes up and down, hither and

-thither, before allowing them to alight turbulently

-upon the quiet earth.</p>

-

-<p>"That's quick," muttered Lucas, philosophically.

-"We'll hev to put off opinions till it's over," and he

-again sat down by the fire. The wind tore around

-the small cabin, furiously seeking an entrance, but

-finding none. Outside at least he could have his

-will, and his vengeance fell upon the sturdy young

-firs and spruces, who at his fierce word of command

-threw off their burdens of snow, and bent and swayed

-before his wrath as wildly as the most graceful hardwood

-saplings. The older trees bent more reluctantly.

-They had seen many winters, many

-storms, yet occasionally a groan burst from them as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>

-the raging breath of the wind monster blew around

-some decaying giant and hurled him to the ground.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane pictured the scene without, and cowered

-closer to the fire. Gippie was on her lap,

-Poacher beside her, and this man with his two boys,

-who at present personified her best friends in the

-world, were safe and warm in their shelter.</p>

-

-<p>Her dark face cleared, and in dreamy content she

-listened to the string of hunting stories reeled off

-by the two boys, who, without addressing her directly,

-were evidently stimulated by the knowledge

-that here was an interested, appreciative, and "brand

-new" listener.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XI.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">A SUDDEN RESOLUTION.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>The storm did not abate. All day long it raged

-around the cabin, and the four prisoners talked,

-ate, and drank without grumbling at their captivity.

-When bedtime approached, Lucas addressed 'Tilda

-Jane in an apologetic manner. "Ye see we ain't

-used to havin' leetle gals, an' I'm afeard we can't

-make you very comfy, as my ole woman says, but

-we'll do the best we kin. This room's all we've got,

-but I'm goin' to try to make it two. See here,"

-and rising, he went to one of the rough bunks built

-against the wall opposite the fire; "I'm a-goin' to

-drape ye off a place for yourself and dog," and,

-hanging a blanket on a hook by the fireplace, he

-called loudly for a nail to drive in the logs across

-the corner.</p>

-

-<p>The two boys, who were playing cards at the

-table, jumped up, and presently 'Tilda Jane had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>

-snug corner to herself. Lucas had dragged out one

-of the fragrant fir beds from one of the bunks. The

-rustling of the evergreen inside reminded her of her

-narrow straw bed at the orphanage, and drawing

-the blanket over her, she nestled down and patiently

-waited for her friends to seek their equally fragrant

-couches. She was very sleepy, but she must not

-drop off until she had said her prayers. It never

-occurred to her to repeat them to herself. She

-must get up and say them aloud, and upon her

-knees.</p>

-

-<p>After some time there was silence outside her

-screen, except for the heavy breathing of the sleepers,

-and the slow, deliberate crackling of the fire

-over the fresh wood heaped upon it by Lucas.</p>

-

-<p>She crept quietly from her bed and knelt down.

-"Dear Father in heaven, I thank thee for saving my

-life. I might 'a' been dead at this minute if thou

-hadst not sent that good dog to find me. Please

-make me a better girl for being saved. I'll take

-good care o' that old man if thou wilt let me find

-him. Bless the red-haired man that owns this cabin.

-I guess he is a good man, Lord, but if he kills deer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>

-wilt thou not lay on his heart a coal from thy altar?

-If he was a deer, he would not like to be killed.

-Bless him, dear Father in heaven, an' his two boys,

-an' bless me an' Gippie an' Poacher an' keep us safe

-for evermore,&mdash;an' bless the lady-boards, an' the

-matron, an' all the little orphans, an' let them find

-good homes an' get out o' the 'sylum,&mdash;Lord, I

-will write them a letter as soon as I get settled, an'

-confess what is wickedness, an' what ain't. I don't

-want to be a bad little girl. I want to live straight,

-an' go to heaven when I die, but I'm sorry I had

-to begin in a 'sylum. It ain't a place for children

-what likes animiles. For Jesus' sake, Amen."</p>

-

-<p>With a relieved sigh, 'Tilda Jane crept back to

-bed and went to sleep, quite unaware that her petition

-had awakened Lucas, who slept as lightly as

-a cat. She had waked him, and now he could not

-go to sleep. For a long time he lay motionless in

-his bunk, then softly getting up, he seated himself

-on one of the boxes before the fire, and let his head

-sink on his hands.</p>

-

-<p>Years ago he had had a deeply religious mother.

-One who would rise at dead of night and pray<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>

-earnestly for her children. 'Tilda Jane's childish

-prayer had brought back this mother from her grave.

-What a good woman she had been! The dying

-wind, sobbing and sighing without, called to mind

-the camp-meetings that he used to attend when he

-was a boy. Churches were few and far between,

-and it was the event of the year for the scattered

-religious people to gather together under the pines

-for out-of-door services. He could hear the women

-singing now,&mdash;the weird sound of their voices

-floated down the chimney. Surely he was among

-them again,&mdash;that good, religious crowd.</p>

-

-<p>He shook himself, muttered an impatient exclamation,

-and went back to bed. No, they were mostly

-dead, his mother was in heaven, and he was a hard,

-impenitent man. But his children&mdash;something

-ought to be done about them. This little girl had

-stirred these old memories&mdash;Zebedee and Joe must

-quit this life, and, with a snarl of determination on

-his brow, he turned over and fell into a profound

-and resolved slumber.</p>

-

-<p>Early the next morning 'Tilda Jane heard some

-one stirring quietly about the cabin. She peeped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>

-from behind the screen, and found that it was the

-father of the boys. He was making coffee, and

-taking dishes from a shelf to set them on the small

-table. He was also frying meat.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane did not like to venture out until the

-boys had made their toilet, which they presently did

-by springing from their beds, drawing on their boots,

-and smoothing their thick locks with a piece of comb

-that reposed on a small shelf near a broken looking-glass.</p>

-

-<p>When they had finished, she piped through the

-screen, "Will you please gimme a lend o' the comb?"</p>

-

-<p>It was politely handed to her, and in a short time

-she made her appearance.</p>

-

-<p>"Ho&mdash;deer's meat!" said Joe, sniffing joyfully.

-"Where'd you get it, pop?"</p>

-

-<p>"Found half a carcass leanin' agin the door this

-mornin'," he said, briefly.</p>

-

-<p>"Some o' the boys must 'a' left it on their way

-out," remarked Zebedee. "Hard blow to travel in.

-Gimme some, pop."</p>

-

-<p>Lucas had settled himself at the table, and was

-eating with every appearance of enjoyment.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Nop," he said, pausing, and speaking with his

-mouth full. "That thar is for you an' the leetle

-gal."</p>

-

-<p>The boys stared at him in undisguised astonishment.</p>

-

-<p>"Fall to," he said, inexorably, "eat your bacon

-and beans, an' be thankful you've got 'em. There's

-many an empty stummick in the woods this mornin'."</p>

-

-<p>Joe, who was readier of speech than his brother,

-found his tongue first. "Ain't you goin' to give us

-any fresh meat, pop?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, sir-r-r."</p>

-

-<p>"You ain't got loony in the night, pop?"</p>

-

-<p>"Y' don't calklate to eat half a carcass y'rself,

-do ye?" said Zebedee, with a feeble attempt at a

-joke.</p>

-

-<p>"Nop&mdash;what I don't eat, I'll lug off in the

-woods."</p>

-

-<p>"He's loony," said Joe, with resignation, and serving

-himself with bacon.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane was silently eating bread and beans,

-and to her Lucas addressed himself. "Leetle gal,

-the storm's a-goin' to conclude accordin' to my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>

-reckonin'. Kin you foot it out on snow-shoes this

-mornin' to the nearest house, do you s'pose?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, sir," she said, quietly.</p>

-

-<p>"An' you two boys will keep her comp'ny," said

-Lucas, turning to his sons. "I'm a-goin' to march

-on to Morse's camp."</p>

-

-<p>There was a howl of dismay from Joe. "You

-give me your word Zebedee was to go."</p>

-

-<p>"An' I give you my word now that you're to go,"

-said his father, sternly. "In an hour I'll make

-tracks. You two wait till the last flake's settled,

-then take the leetle gal an' git her out safe an' sound

-to William Mercer's. Ask him to hitch up an' take

-her over to Nicatoos station, an' I'll settle with him.

-Then you skedaddle for home, git out your books,

-an' to-morrer go to school."</p>

-

-<p>This time there was a simultaneous howl from the

-boys, and in the midst of their distress could be

-heard faintly articulated the words, "Pop&mdash;books&mdash;school!"</p>

-

-<p>Lucas turned to 'Tilda Jane. "Yes, we're poachers,

-leetle gal, an' when I ask ye to say nothin'

-about what ye've seen an' heard here, I know ye'll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>

-keep as mum as we do. I'm a poacher, an' I'm

-goin' to hev a hard time to give it up. They used

-to call me king o' the poachers, till another feller

-come along smarter nor I was. Anyway, I can't

-give it up yet. It's in my blood now, an' men as ole

-as I be don't repent easy. It's when ye're young

-an' squshy that you repents. But these two cubs o'

-mine," and he eyed his boys with determination, "has

-got to give up evil ways right off. Ye've got to go

-to school, sons, an' learn somethin', an' quit poachin',

-an' hevin' the law hangin' over ye all the time."</p>

-

-<p>The boys looked ugly and rebellious, and, perceiving

-it, he went on. "Come now, none o' that;

-when ye're respectable, hard-workin' men ye'll be

-ashamed o' your father, an' that'll be my punishment

-if I don't get out o' this. An' you needn't

-kick, 'cause I'll lick ye all to splinters if I ketches

-one o' you in the woods this spring. Ye've got to

-turn right round."</p>

-

-<p>"I'll turn right round an' come back," said

-Zebedee, bitterly and furiously.</p>

-

-<p>Lucas got up, took him by the coat collar, and,

-without a word, led him outside the cabin.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>A few minutes later they returned&mdash;both flushed&mdash;Lucas

-grim and determined, and Zebedee sulky

-and conquered.</p>

-

-<p>"Air you also cravin' for an argyment?" asked

-Lucas, ironically, of Joe.</p>

-

-<p>"I'm cravin' to lick you," said the boy, bursting

-out into a wild raving and swearing at him.</p>

-

-<p>"Swearin' when there is ladies present," said his

-father, seizing him by the shoulder, and dragging

-him the way his brother had gone.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane stopped eating, and sat miserably with

-downcast eyes. She felt dimly that she had made

-trouble in this family, and brought additional misfortune

-upon herself, for what kind of escorts would

-these whipped boys be?</p>

-

-<p>Lucas's tussle with Joe was a longer one than the

-former with Zebedee had been, and not until after

-some time did he return. Joe hung about outside

-for an hour, then he came in, shaking and stamping

-the snow from him, and, as if nothing had happened,

-sat down and finished his breakfast.</p>

-

-<p>Lucas, meanwhile, had been making preparations

-for his long tramp. 'Tilda Jane watched him with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>

-interest as he took a sack, tied a potato in each

-corner, and proceeded to fill it with parcels of provisions.</p>

-

-<p>When at last he sat down, took off his cow-hide

-moccasins, and began to tie on soft moose moccasins,

-fit for snow-shoeing, he addressed his two

-boys.</p>

-

-<p>"When parients tell their children things air to

-be did, they ought to be did. When the children

-raves an' tears, they ought to be licked, an' when

-the lickin's over, the reasons come. Air you

-sighin' either o' ye to see the inside o' State's

-prison? Air you, Zebedee?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, sir," said the boy, shortly.</p>

-

-<p>"Air you, Joe?"</p>

-

-<p>Joe, with his mouth full of beans, replied that

-he was not.</p>

-

-<p>"Wal, that's where you'll land if ye don't quit

-breakin' State's law. Ye ain't either o' ye as clever

-as I be, but I've got to try to give it up, too. I've

-bin feelin' that ye'd git caught some day, and I've

-made up my mind, an' I'll hold it to my dyin' day.

-I'm goin' to crowd ye out o' this risky game. If I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>

-ketch one o' you after deer agin, I'll give ye up to

-the warden myself. I swan I will," and he brought

-his hand down energetically on the table. "Now

-you go home an' go to school with smart boys an'

-gals till summer vacation, then ye can tell me

-what ye think of it. I'll not pretend I'll let ye out

-of it if ye don't like it, but I guess ye will. Ye've

-bin to school before an' made good progress, an' I

-asks yer pardon for takin' ye out."</p>

-

-<p>Zebedee listened in quiet resentfulness, but Joe,

-who possessed a more volatile disposition, and who

-having satisfied his hunger was comparatively good-natured,

-remarked, "What'll ye do about Poacher,

-pop?"</p>

-

-<p>Lucas's face darkened suddenly, and unhappily.</p>

-

-<p>"Come here, ole boy," he said, and when the dog

-went to him, he bowed his head for a minute over

-him. "We've bin good friends&mdash;me an' you.

-Many's the trap I've led ye in, an' many a time

-my heart would 'a' bin sore if ye'd a bin caught.

-An' now, 'count o' my transgression, ye're a wanderin'

-sheep. Ye'll never git back in the fold agin

-unless some good sheep leads ye."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"There's somethin' you can't make over," said

-Zebedee, briefly. "He'll chase deer as long as he

-kin wag a leg."</p>

-

-<p>"Leetle gal," said Lucas, suddenly, "would ye

-like to hev this dog?"</p>

-

-<p>"To have him&mdash;that beauty dog!" 'Tilda Jane

-gasped, confusedly. "Oh, sir, you'd never give him

-away."</p>

-

-<p>"I'd most as soon give a child away," said Lucas,

-"an' I'd never do it, if it warn't for his habits.

-Ye're a-goin' to Ciscasset, which is somethin' of a

-place, an' a ways from the woods. An' ye'll pet him

-an' kinder cherish him, an' keep him from frettin' an'

-bein' lonely. My ole woman don't set much store

-by dogs, an' when I'm workin' in the tannery he's

-off doggin' deer by himself. He's nearly got shot

-dead. See those ripples in his back? That's

-where he's bin grazed. Poacher, ole boy, you've

-got to go with this leetle gal, if she'll hev you."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane hesitated, stammered, looked into the

-dog's anxious face, and the boys' protesting ones,

-and said at last, "But the ole man where I'm goin',

-mebbe he'll breach at my havin' two dogs."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Prob'bly he will," said Lucas, "but you crowd

-right up to him. Folks is queer 'bout dogs. Them

-as don't like 'em don't want to give 'em standin'

-room on this airth, but you walk right up to 'em an'

-say, 'This dog has as good a right to a place on

-God's footstool as you hev, an' I'm goin' to see he

-gits it. If you was more like a dog yerself, ye'd be

-more thought of, ye cross-grained, cranky ole skillingsby'&mdash;come

-you, sons, quit that scowlin'. Do

-ye know why I'm givin' that dog to the little gal

-stid o' you?"</p>

-

-<p>They uttered a brief negative.</p>

-

-<p>"'Cause she knows dog language," said Lucas,

-dropping his voice to a whisper, and looking mysteriously

-over his shoulder, "an' if there was a deer

-here, you'd find she knowed deer talk. You, sons,

-is fond o' dogs, but not in the style the leetle gal is,

-or I be. It's a kind o' smartness at gettin' inside

-the animal's skin. He don't verily talk. Ye jist

-understan' him without talk&mdash;leetle gal, what's

-Poacher sayin' now?"</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, he don't want to go with me," burst out

-'Tilda Jane, with energy. "He's a sick dog. Look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>

-at his eyes an' his droopin' ears. He don't want you

-to give him away. He don't want me to take him.

-Oh, I can't!" and she buried her face in her hands

-as if to hide temptation from her.</p>

-

-<p>"He's got to go," said Lucas, stroking Poacher's

-head, "an' mind me, dog," and he put his hand

-under the dog's jaws and lifted them so that he could

-look in his eyes, "no runnin' away from Ciscasset.

-Ye stay with that leetle gal. Don't ye come chasin'

-round here, 'cause if ye do, I'll turn my back on ye

-for a runaway, an' ye'll feel worse'n ye do now when

-we part on speakin' terms. Say, is it a bargain, ole

-feller? Call him, leetle gal."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane was overawed by Lucas's determined

-manner, and dropping her hands she ejaculated

-feebly, "Here, Poacher, Poacher!"</p>

-

-<p>The dog looked at her, then pressed closer to

-his master, whereupon Lucas seized a stick by the

-fireplace, and struck him sharply.</p>

-

-<p>Poacher turned his large brown eyes on him in

-one despairing, reproachful glance, then with

-drooping head sauntered across the room to the

-boys.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Call him," said Lucas to 'Tilda Jane. "Speak

-up as if ye knew he was your dog."</p>

-

-<p>"Poacher," she said, in a firm voice, "come here.

-You're mos' as unhappy as I be&mdash;we'll be unhappy

-together."</p>

-

-<p>The suffering animal moved slowly toward her,

-and laid his head on her lap.</p>

-

-<p>There were tears in his eyes, and the little girl

-groaned as she wiped them away.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XII.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">FAREWELL TO THE POACHERS.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>Lucas was ready to start, and 'Tilda Jane and the

-boys stood in the doorway watching him tie on his

-snow-shoes.</p>

-

-<p>"Now, sons," he said, straightening himself up and

-drawing on his woollen mittens, "I'm goin' one way

-an' you another, but if ye act contrairy an' pouty to

-that leetle gal, I'll know it, for she's goin' to write

-me, an' if there's any complaint, there'll be such

-a wallopin' as these ones this mornin' would be a

-shadder an' a dream to."</p>

-

-<p>His lecture over, he looked over his shoulder and

-narrowly inspected the faces of his two boys. They

-were reserved, almost expressionless. It might be a

-month before he saw them again. He forgot 'Tilda

-Jane for an instant, "Sons&mdash;ye know yer pop loves

-ye, don't ye?"</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>His tone had suddenly changed, and the two big

-boys ran to him as if they still were children. "Pop,

-can't we come back after we take her out?" they

-exclaimed, with backward jerks of their heads toward

-'Tilda Jane. Their hands were on his arms, and

-they were roughly fondling his shoulders&mdash;these

-two unmannerly cubs of his.</p>

-

-<p>"Sons," he said, in a broken voice, "I ain't been

-a good father to ye. I've got to spend the last o'

-my life in rootin' up the weeds I sowed the fust

-part. I don't want you to have such a crop. Now

-you go 'long out an' be good sons. Your mother'll

-be sot up, an' you mind what she says, an' I'll soon

-come home. Take good care o' the leetle gal," and

-passing his hand, first over one brown head, then

-over the other, he tramped away out of view among

-the snowy spruces.</p>

-

-<p>The boys and 'Tilda Jane went back into the

-cabin. The two former sat together by the fire and

-talked, taking little notice of her. All their friendliness

-of the evening before was gone, yet they were

-not openly unkind, but simply neglectful. Toward

-noon the snow ceased falling, as Lucas had pre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>dicted,

-the sun came out brilliantly, and they began

-making preparations for departure.</p>

-

-<p>Zebedee was to wear an old pair of snow-shoes

-that had been left in the cabin, and 'Tilda Jane was

-to put on his new ones. Her humility and unselfishness

-slightly thawed the boys' reserve, and when

-they at last started, her ridiculous attempts at snow-shoeing

-threw them into fits of laughter.</p>

-

-<p>Zebedee carried the infirm Gippie, who otherwise

-would have sunk to his neck in the snow, Poacher

-soberly plunged his way along, while Joe assisted

-'Tilda Jane in keeping her equilibrium. After an

-hour's travel, she had become quite expert in the

-art of taking wide steps, and no longer needed his

-helping hand.</p>

-

-<p>"Air we mos' there?" she asked.</p>

-

-<p>"In the span of another hour and a half," said

-Joe.</p>

-

-<p>The hour and a half went by. They tramped on

-under the serene blue of the sky, and in such a

-solemn stillness that it seemed as if never a bird nor

-beast could have inhabited this white wilderness.

-Only the voiceless, silent trees were there, clad all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>

-in white like ghosts of departed living things. But

-at last their winding way through the wood came

-to an end, and they stepped out on the old road.

-Here were evidences of travel. A few teams had

-passed by, and there were snow-shoe tracks alongside

-those of the sleigh runners.</p>

-

-<p>The trees also grew more sparsely, and soon gave

-place to clearings, then the distant roof of a barn

-appeared, and finally a long, thin string of small

-farmhouses winding down a bleak road before them.</p>

-

-<p>"Is this your home?" asked 'Tilda Jane, of the

-boys.</p>

-

-<p>"Nop," answered Joe, "we live off'n that way,"

-and he pointed down a road to the left. "But we've

-got to take you here to the Mercers', pop said."</p>

-

-<p>He drew up before the first in the string of

-houses,&mdash;a poor enough place, and unspeakably

-chilling in its deathly whiteness. A tiny white

-house, a white barn, a white fence, a white cow in

-the yard,&mdash;white snow over everything.</p>

-

-<p>"Looks as if they'd all died an' gone to heaven,"

-thought 'Tilda Jane, with a shiver.</p>

-

-<p>"Hole on," said Joe. "I'll run ahead an' see if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>

-the folks is home. Ain't no smoke cornin' out o'

-the chimney."</p>

-

-<p>He swung open the gate, hurried in, pounded at

-the front door, pounded at the back door, and

-finally returned. "Guess there mus' be a funeral

-or somethin'&mdash;all off, anyway. What'll we do,

-Zeb?"</p>

-

-<p>Zebedee shrugged his shoulders. "S'pose we go

-nex' door?"</p>

-

-<p>"But them's the Folcutts," objected Joe.</p>

-

-<p>"S'pose they be."</p>

-

-<p>"Well, you know&mdash;"</p>

-

-<p>"Guess they kin drive as well as Mercer's folks."</p>

-

-<p>"What would pop say?"</p>

-

-<p>"It's nearer than the nex' house."</p>

-

-<p>"I'm kind o' tired," said 'Tilda Jane, politely and

-faintly. "Just drop me, an' you go back. I'll find

-some one."</p>

-

-<p>"Nop," said Joe, firmly, "we promised pop."</p>

-

-<p>"Come on," said Zebedee, "let's try the Folcutts."</p>

-

-<p>They went slowly on to the next blot on the

-landscape,&mdash;this one, a low-roofed, red house with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>

-untidy windows, and a feeble, wavering line of smoke

-rising from the kitchen chimney.</p>

-

-<p>They all went around to the back door, and, in

-response to their knock a slatternly woman appeared.</p>

-

-<p>"What you want, boys?"</p>

-

-<p>"Pop says will you take this gal to Nicatoos

-station?" asked Joe. "He'll square up with you

-when he comes out."</p>

-

-<p>The woman looked 'Tilda Jane all over. "The

-roads is main heavy."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane leaned up against the door-post, and

-the woman relented. "I guess it won't kill our

-hoss," she remarked. "Is it the seven o'clocker

-you want?"</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane appealed to the boys.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, m'am," responded Joe, promptly.</p>

-

-<p>"Needn't start for an hour yit. Come on in,

-boys."</p>

-

-<p>"I guess we'll be goin' on home," said Zebedee.</p>

-

-<p>Joe, for some reason or other, seemed reluctant to

-leave 'Tilda Jane. He carefully lifted Gippie to a

-resting-place by the kitchen stove, untied 'Tilda

-Jane's snow-shoes and strapped them on his back,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>

-stroked Poacher repeatedly, and finally with a hearty

-"So long, little gal, let's hear from you," he made

-her an awkward bob of his head and ran after his

-brother, who had reached the road.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane drew up to the stove, and, while she

-sat drying her dress, looked about her. What a

-dirty kitchen! The log cabin she had just left

-was neatness itself compared with this place. Pots

-and pans were heaped in a corner of the room,

-the table was littered with soiled dishes, the

-woman herself was unkempt, frowsy, and dispirited

-in appearance.</p>

-

-<p>She was also cunning, for, while she seized a

-broom and stirred about the accumulation of dust

-on the floor, she inspected the little girl with curious,

-furtive glances.</p>

-

-<p>"You bin stoppin' with the Lucases?" she asked,

-at last.</p>

-

-<p>She had opened the door, and while she looked

-one way she carelessly tried to sweep in another way

-the pile of rubbish she had collected.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, m'am," said 'Tilda Jane, wearily.</p>

-

-<p>"How's Mis' Lucas?"</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane paused to gaze out the open door. Why

-did not the woman shut it? And why, when it was

-so pure and clean without, did she not feel ashamed

-to keep so dull and untidy a house? If it were summer-time,

-and the ground were brown and green, this

-dun-coloured room would not be so bad, but now&mdash;the

-contrast made her sick.</p>

-

-<p>"How's Mis' Lucas?" repeated her hostess, in a

-dull voice.</p>

-

-<p>"I don't know," replied 'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>Mrs. Folcutt poised herself on her broom and with

-rustic deliberation weighed the statement just made.

-Then she said, "She ain't gone away?"</p>

-

-<p>"I dunno," said 'Tilda Jane, "I never see her in

-my life."</p>

-

-<p>Here was a puzzle, and Mrs. Folcutt pondered

-over it in silence, until the draught of chilly air made

-her remember to close the door.</p>

-

-<p>"Are we to start soon?" inquired 'Tilda Jane,

-after a time.</p>

-

-<p>"I ain't a-goin' to take you," said her hostess, unamiably,

-"it's Uzziah&mdash;Uzziah!" and she went to

-an open stairway leading from the kitchen.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"What cher want?" came back, in an impatient

-tone.</p>

-

-<p>"You're wanted. Passenger for the station."</p>

-

-<p>A boy speedily appeared. 'Tilda Jane was not

-prepossessed in his favour as he came lumbering down

-the staircase, and she was still less so when he stood

-before her. He had his mother's sharp face, lean

-head, and cunning eyes, and he was so alarmingly

-dirty that she found herself wondering whether he

-had ever touched water to his face and hands since

-the winter began.</p>

-

-<p>"Go hitch up an' take this gal to the station," said

-his mother, in feeble command.</p>

-

-<p>He stood scrutinising 'Tilda Jane. "Who fur?"</p>

-

-<p>"Bob Lucas."</p>

-

-<p>"How much'll he gimme?"</p>

-

-<p>"I dunno. He'll pay when he comes out."</p>

-

-<p>"S'pose the warden ketches him?"</p>

-

-<p>"He ain't bin ketched yit."</p>

-

-<p>"He's goin' to&mdash;so they say at the post-office."</p>

-

-<p>"I've got fifty cents," said 'Tilda Jane, with

-dignity. "Here it is," and she laid it on the

-table.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>The youthful fox snatched at it, and grinned at

-his mother as he pocketed it.</p>

-

-<p>"Say&mdash;that ain't fair," remarked 'Tilda Jane.

-"You ain't kerried me yet."</p>

-

-<p>"She's right," said the more mature fox. "Give

-it back, Uzzy."</p>

-

-<p>Uzziah unwillingly restored the coin to 'Tilda

-Jane.</p>

-

-<p>"Now go hitch up," said his mother.</p>

-

-<p>He sidled out of the room and disappeared, and

-Mrs. Folcutt's covetous eye wandered over 'Tilda

-Jane's wearing apparel. "Say, sissy, that's a pooty

-fair shawl you took off'n your dog. I always favour

-stripes."</p>

-

-<p>"So do I," replied 'Tilda Jane, and, with a premonition

-of what was coming, she turned her head

-and gazed out the window.</p>

-

-<p>"I guess you might as well square up with us,"

-said the slatternly woman, seating herself near her

-caller and speaking in' persuasive accents, "and then

-you'll not hev to be beholden to Bob Lucas. It's

-jus' as well for a nice little gal like you to hev no

-dealin's with them Lucases."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"That shawl ain't mine," said 'Tilda Jane,

-sharply.</p>

-

-<p>This statement did not seem worth challenging by

-the woman, for she went on in the same wheedling

-voice, "You'll not hev no call for it on the cars. I

-kin lend you somethin' for the dog to ride down in.

-It's too good for wrappin' him," and she gazed contemptuously

-at Gippie.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane drew in her wandering gaze from the

-window, and fixed it desperately on Poacher, who was

-lying under the stove winking sadly but amiably at

-her. Was no one perfect? Lucas hunted deer, this

-good dog helped him, his boys were naughty, this

-woman was a sloven and a kind of thief, her boy was

-a rogue, and she herself&mdash;'Tilda Jane was a little

-runaway girl. "You can have this tippet," she said,

-sternly. "That shawl's got to be sent back to where

-it comes from."</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, you stole it, did ye?" said the woman, with

-a sneer. "Well, I guess we kin hitch up for no

-thieves," and she got up and moved deliberately

-toward the door as if she would recall her son.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane's nimble fancy ran over possibilities.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>

-She had fallen among sharpers, she must be as sharp

-as they. Her offensive manner fell from her. "Look

-here," she said, bluntly, "I ain't got one mite o'

-money but that fifty-cent piece. If your boy'll drive

-me to Nicatoos right off, I'll give him that as I said,

-an' I'll send back the shawl by him. But if you don't

-want to do it, speak right up, an' I'll move on to the

-next house, and," she continued boldly as she saw

-consent on the cunning face, "you've got to give me

-somethin' to eat an' drink with it, 'cause I've got two

-dogs to take care of, an' I don't want to get to Ciscasset

-and tumble over from bein' fainty."</p>

-

-<p>Mrs. Folcutt's gray face became illumined by a

-silly smile. There was not a shawl like that in the

-settlement, and bustling to her feet, she stroked it

-and felt it with admiring fingers, until admonished

-by 'Tilda Jane that time was passing, and if she

-was going to get her anything to eat she had better

-be quick about it.</p>

-

-<p>The little girl almost choked over the sloppy tea

-from the venerable teapot, the shady bread and

-butter, and the composite dish of preserves set

-before her, yet resolutely shutting her eyes she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>

-ate and drank, and forced Gippie to do the same.

-Poacher would touch nothing. "Don't ye know

-them huntin' dogs eats <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'only onct a day'">only once a day</ins>?" said Mrs.

-Folcutt, contemptuously.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XIII.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">AN ATTEMPTED TRICK.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>"How fur are we from Nicatoos?" inquired

-'Tilda Jane of her charioteer one hour later.</p>

-

-<p>"A matter of a mile," he replied, beating his

-disengaged hand upon his knees. He was sulky

-and cold, and 'Tilda Jane averted her glance from

-him to his small brown nag, who was trotting along

-as cheerfully as if there were a reward at the end

-of the drive for him.</p>

-

-<p>He was a curious little horse. Surely there

-never before was one with such a heavy coat of hair.

-He looked like a wild animal, and with gladness

-of heart she noted his fat sides. The Folcutts

-might be mean and untidy, but they certainly were

-good to this faithful friend, and her mind went off

-in puzzled reflection.</p>

-

-<p>She was pursuing the same line of thought of

-an hour before. No one was perfect, yet no one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>

-was wholly bad. There was good in everybody and

-everything. Poacher was a bad dog in some respects,

-and she cast a glance at him as he came

-trotting sleek and thoughtful behind the sleigh, but

-what a noble character he was in other respects!

-Gippie was a crank, and she pressed closer the

-small animal beside her, but he had his good points,

-and he was certainly a great comfort to her.</p>

-

-<p>Her heart was much lighter now that she was

-drawing nearer to the train that was to take her to

-Ciscasset, and in raising her little, weary head gratefully

-to the sky, she noted in quick and acute

-appreciation an unusually beautiful sunset. The

-colours were subdued&mdash;the sky was as hard and

-as cold as steel, but how clear, how brilliantly clear

-and calm! She would have fine weather for her

-arrival in her new home.</p>

-

-<p>She was glad that she was not to stay here. She

-felt herself quite a travelled orphan now, and somewhat

-disdainfully classed this rough settlement as

-"back-woodsy." The houses were uninviting and

-far apart, the roads and yards were desolate. The

-men were in the woods, the women and children<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>

-were inside huddling around the fires. Middle Marsden

-was a quiet place, but it had not seemed as

-much out of the world as this. She hoped Ciscasset

-would be cheerful. Her travels had given her a

-liking for meeting new faces, and for enjoying some

-slight excitement. Not as much as she had had

-during the last few days&mdash;no, not as much as that.

-It was too trying for her, and she smiled faintly as

-she called up her last vision of her little careworn

-face in the cracked looking-glass in the log cabin.</p>

-

-<p>"What's the matter?" she asked, abruptly.</p>

-

-<p>The sleigh had come to a sudden standstill, and

-the boy was holding the lines in dogged silence.</p>

-

-<p>"Why don't you drive on?" she asked.</p>

-

-<p>"Now you jus' looky here," he replied, in a rough

-and bullying tone. "I ain't a-goin' one step furder.

-I'm mos' froze, an' the station's right ahead. You

-foller yer nose a spell, an' you'll git thar. Gimme

-the shawl an' the fifty cents, an' git out."</p>

-

-<p>For one moment 'Tilda Jane sat in blank amazement.

-Then she looked from his dirty, obstinate

-face to the plump pony. The latter showed no

-signs of fatigue. He could go for miles yet. If he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>

-had made a plea for the harness, she would not have

-so much wondered, for it was patched and mended

-with rope in a dozen places.</p>

-

-<p>Then her blood slowly reached boiling-point.

-She had stood a good deal from these Folcutts.

-The shawl was worth five dollars. That she knew,

-for she remembered hearing the matron tell how

-much it had cost her. She had overpaid them for

-this drive, and she was not prepared to flounder

-on through the snow and perhaps miss her train.</p>

-

-<p>Her mind, fertile in resources, speedily hit upon

-something. She must get this bully out of the

-sleigh, and she fixed him with a glance more determined

-than his own. He had on a rough homespun

-suit of clothes, and a home-made cap to match it.

-This cap was pulled tightly over his ears, but it was

-not on tight enough to resist 'Tilda Jane's quick

-and angry fingers.</p>

-

-<p>Plucking it off, she threw it over a snake fence

-into a snow-bank, saying at the same time, "If

-you're goin' to turn me out, I'll turn you out first."</p>

-

-<p>The boy was furious, but the cold wind smote

-his head, and, postponing retaliation, he sprang first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>

-for his cap, shouting warningly, however, as he

-swung his leg over the fence, "I'll make you pay

-up for this, you&mdash;"</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane neither heard nor cared for the offensive

-epithet applied to her. With feet firmly braced,

-both hands grasping the lines, Gippie beside her, and

-Poacher racing behind, she was sweeping down the

-road. She had never driven a horse before in her

-life, but she adored new experiences, and she had

-carefully watched every motion of the young lout

-beside her.</p>

-

-<p>He could scarcely believe his eyes. He gaped

-speechless for a few minutes, for the sound of the

-sleigh-bells had made him turn sharply as he was

-picking up his cap. Then he restored the covering

-to his head, ran to the fence, and bawled, helplessly,

-"Stop thar&mdash;stop! Stop!"</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane was skimming gaily around a turn in

-the road toward the sunset. He thought he heard

-a jeering laugh from her, but he was mistaken.

-Having got what she wanted, she was going obliviously

-on her way. The boy had been an obstacle,

-and she had brushed him aside.</p>

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-<a name="p168" id="p168"></a>

-<img src="images/p168.jpg" width="550" alt="" />

-<div class="caption">"'STOP THAR&mdash;STOP! STOP!'"</div>

-<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>

-</div>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>With his slower brain he was forced to pause and

-deliberate. Had she stolen their rig? Stupid as he

-was, the conviction forced itself upon him that she

-had not. She could not take the rig on the train,

-anyway, and plucking up courage, and shivering in

-the cold that had seized upon him during his deliberations,

-he meditatively and angrily began to plod

-over the route that he had recommended to her.</p>

-

-<p>Three-quarters of an hour later, he drew into the

-station yard. The train had come and gone, and his

-eager eyes went to the pony tied safe and sound

-under the shed, with not only the lap-robe over his

-back, but also the striped shawl&mdash;the first and last

-time that he would have the pleasure of wearing it.</p>

-

-<p>At the sound of the bells when he turned the

-sleigh, the telegraph operator came to the station

-door. "Here's fifty cents for you, left by a black-eyed

-girl."</p>

-

-<p>Without a "thank you," the boy held out his hand.</p>

-

-<p>"I guess you don't like that black-eyed girl much,"

-said the young man, teasingly.</p>

-

-<p>"She's a&mdash;" and the boy broke into an oath.</p>

-

-<p>"Shut up!" said the young man, with a darkening<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>

-face. Then with some curiosity he went on, "What

-did she do to make you talk like that?"</p>

-

-<p>"Spilt me out," replied the boy, with another

-volley of bad language.</p>

-

-<p>"You young hound," said the man, witheringly,

-"if she spilt you out, I'll bet you deserved it. I'll

-not touch your dirty hand. If you want your money,

-go find it," and throwing the fifty cents in a snow-drift,

-he went back into the warm station and slammed

-the door behind him.</p>

-

-<p>Uzziah's troubles were not over, and he had still

-to learn that the way of the transgressor is a tiresome

-one. He fumbled desperately in the snow, for

-he wanted fifty cents above all things in the world

-just then, but he was destined not to find it; and at

-last, cold, weary, and yet with all his faults not

-inclined to wreak his wrath on the pony who stood

-patiently watching him, he threw himself into the

-sleigh and sped gloomily homeward. His mother

-had the shawl, but he had nothing for his trouble,

-for he counted as nothing and worse than nothing

-his experience of the maxim that one sly trick

-inspires another.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XIV.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">HOME, SWEET HOME.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane was in a quandary. She had boarded

-the train for Ciscasset, she sat up very straight and

-apparently very composed&mdash;her outward demeanour

-gave not a hint of the turmoil within. In reality

-she was full of trouble. She had not a cent of

-money in her pocket, and her new familiarity with

-the workings of the Maine Central Railway assured

-her that it did not carry passengers for nothing.</p>

-

-<p>What was she to do? She pulled the little tippet

-more closely around Gippie's shoulders. She had

-taken it from her own, for it was absolutely necessary

-for him to have another covering now that the

-shawl was gone. Perhaps he would be taken away

-from her. She had noticed that it was not a customary

-thing for people to travel with dogs. His

-head and tail were plainly visible&mdash;this tippet was

-not like the voluminous shawl.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>Lucas had not offered her money, and she had not

-liked to ask him for it. Perhaps he had not thought

-about it. Perhaps if he did think of it, he supposed

-that he was doing enough to get her to Nicatoos&mdash;and

-there was the conductor entering the other end

-of the car. She must do something, and deliberately

-rising from her seat, she slipped Gippie under

-her arm, and made her way out to the platform of

-the fast moving train.</p>

-

-<p>It was quite dark now. She gave one side glance

-at the white, silent country they were passing

-through, then stepped into the lighted car ahead.</p>

-

-<p>"This is a smoking-car, young girl," observed

-some one, haughtily.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane had dropped into the first seat she

-came to, which happened to be beside a very stout

-and very dignified gentleman who had a cigar in his

-mouth, and who was reading a newspaper.</p>

-

-<p>She looked round, saw that there were a number

-of men in the car&mdash;no women, no children, and that

-the atmosphere was a hazy blue.</p>

-

-<p>"Smoke don't bother me," she said, almost scornfully.

-What was a breath of smoke compared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>

-with her inward discomposure over her pecuniary

-difficulties?</p>

-

-<p>"I'm in a little trouble," she said, brusquely, "I

-ain't got money to buy a ticket."</p>

-

-<p>The gentleman gazed at her suspiciously. "I

-have no money for beggars," he said, and he turned

-his broad back squarely on her.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane, for one so obstinate, was strangely

-sensitive. With her face in a flame of colour, she

-rose. Had any one else heard the insult? No, not

-a man in the car was looking her way.</p>

-

-<p>"I'm a poor little girl," she breathed over the

-gentleman's substantial shoulder, "but I'm no beggar.

-I guess I work as hard as you do. I wanted

-you to lend me a dollar or so to be sent back in a

-letter, but I wouldn't take it now&mdash;no, not if you

-crawled after me on your hands an' knees like a dog

-holdin' it in your mouth," and precipitately leaving

-him, she sauntered down the aisle.</p>

-

-<p>The gentleman turned around, and with an amazed

-face gazed after her. Stay&mdash;there she was pausing

-by the seat in which was his son. Should he warn

-him against the youthful adventuress? No, he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>

-old enough to take care of himself, and he settled

-back in his corner and devoted himself to his

-paper.</p>

-

-<p>The only person in the last seat in the car was a

-lad of seventeen or eighteen who was neither reading

-nor smoking, but lounging across it, while he

-suppressed innumerable yawns. He was very handsome,

-and he looked lazy and good-natured, and to

-him 'Tilda Jane accordingly addressed herself. She

-had hesitated, after the rebuff she had received, to

-apply to any of those other men with their resolved,

-middle-aged or elderly faces. This lad she was not

-at all afraid of, and resting Gippie on the arm of his

-seat, she stared admiringly at him.</p>

-

-<p>He straightened himself. Here was something

-interesting, and his yawns ceased.</p>

-

-<p>"Well, miss, what can I do for you?" he inquired,

-mischievously, as she continued to stare at him without

-speaking.</p>

-

-<p>He would lend her the money, she knew it before

-she asked him. There was something else in her

-mind now, and her little sharp eyes were full of

-tears.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Is anything the matter with you?" he asked,

-politely.</p>

-

-<p>She could not answer him for a few seconds,

-but then she swallowed the lump in her throat

-and ejaculated, "No, sir, only you are so pretty."</p>

-

-<p>"Pretty!" he repeated, in bewilderment.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes," she said in low, passionate, almost resentful

-tones, "you ain't got no 'casion for those blue

-eyes an' that yeller hair. I wish I could take 'em

-away from you. I'd 'a' been 'dopted if I had 'em.

-I wouldn't be standin' here."</p>

-

-<p>"Won't you sit down?" he asked, courteously,

-and with a flattered air. He was very

-young, and to have a strange child melt into

-tears at the sight of his handsome face was a compliment

-calculated to touch even an older heart

-than his.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane, with a heavy sigh, seated herself

-beside him. "I'm kind o' put out," she said,

-languidly, "you must s'cuse me."</p>

-

-<p>After her interest in him, he could do nothing

-less than murmur a civil inquiry as to the cause of

-her concern.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"I've been tryin' to borrer money," she replied,

-"an' I was 'sulted."</p>

-

-<p>"To borrow money&mdash;then you are short of

-funds?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, sir," she said, calmly, "I'm a-travellin', but

-I ain't got no money to pay for me nor for this dog,

-an' his head an' tail shows this time, an' he'll be

-nabbed."</p>

-

-<p>"Where are you going?" asked the lad.</p>

-

-<p>"To Ciscasset, sir, if I ever get there. I'm

-beginnin' to think there ain't no such place."</p>

-

-<p>"I assure you there is, for I live in it myself."</p>

-

-<p>"Do you?" she ejaculated, with a flash of interest.

-"Do you know a man by the name of Hobart

-Dillson?"</p>

-

-<p>"Rather&mdash;he was my father's bookkeeper for

-years. We pension him now," he added, grandly,

-and with a wish to impress.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane was not impressed, for she did not

-know what a pension was.</p>

-

-<p>"What kind of a feller is he?" she asked, eagerly.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, a sort of tiger&mdash;might be in a cage, you

-know, but we haven't got one big enough."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"You mean he gets mad easy?"</p>

-

-<p>"Never gets un-mad. Always stays so. Is a

-regular joke, you know. Going to visit him?"</p>

-

-<p>"I'm goin' to be his housekeeper," said 'Tilda

-Jane, with dignity.</p>

-

-<p>The lad cast a rapid and amused glance over her

-small resolved figure, then taking his handkerchief

-from his pocket, turned his face to the window, and

-coughed vigorously.</p>

-

-<p>"I can fight, too," she added, after a pause, "but&mdash;"

-slowly, "I sha'n't fight him."</p>

-

-<p>The lad did not turn around except to throw her

-one gleam from the corner of a laughing eye, until

-she ejaculated uneasily, "There comes the conductor&mdash;are

-you a-goin' to lend me some money?"</p>

-

-<p>His face reappeared&mdash;quite sober now. "Well,

-young lady, I am not a capitalist, but I think I can

-raise you a loan. How much do you want&mdash;that

-is, where did you come on?"</p>

-

-<p>"I come on at Nicatoos, an' I've another dog in

-the baggage-car."</p>

-

-<p>"Travelling with two dogs," he murmured, "and

-short of funds. You have courage!"</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"I like some animiles better'n some people,"

-observed 'Tilda Jane, sententiously.</p>

-

-<p>"Your sentiment does you credit," he replied,

-gravely, and as the conductor approached, he held

-out his hand. "I pay for this little girl and her

-dog in the baggage-car."</p>

-

-<p>"That's a fine hound you've got," the conductor

-observed, civilly, to 'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, sir," she replied, meekly. "I hope he

-ain't scared o' the train."</p>

-

-<p>"He don't like it much, but some of the boys

-have been playing with him. Why&mdash;" and he

-drew back in surprise, "you're the obstinate young

-one I pointed out to the inspector the other day.

-Here&mdash;you needn't pay," and he put in her hand

-the money her new friend had just given him.

-"There was a great racket about you. You needn't

-have run away from Vanceboro&mdash;if you'd spoken

-the truth, you'd saved yourself and us a lot of

-trouble. However, I guess they'll be glad to hear

-you're all right."</p>

-

-<p>"I'll be 'bliged if you'll give my respecks to

-Mr. Jack," she said, steadily.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"I'll do it," said the conductor, "and tell him

-you've picked up another dog," and with a wink at

-her companion, he passed on.</p>

-

-<p>"Accep' my thanks," she said, after a time, handing

-the loose change in her lap to the lad.</p>

-

-<p>"Keep it," he replied, generously. "I don't want

-it."</p>

-

-<p>A grim flash like a streak of lightning passed over

-her dark face, and he added, hastily, "As a loan, of

-course. You may need money for your dogs. Old

-Hobart will begrudge them a bone, I assure you."</p>

-

-<p>She thanked him, and thoughtfully tied the money

-in a corner of her handkerchief.</p>

-

-<p>"Now if his son were home, he would be different.

-Hank is a rattling, good-natured sort of a fellow.

-No principle, you know, but not a tiger by any

-means."</p>

-

-<p>"I'll thank you, sir, to keep a stiff tongue when

-you're talkin' of Hank Dillson," observed 'Tilda

-Jane, severely. "He's done me favours, an' you'd

-better keep your tongue off his father, too. If you're

-dyin' to pitch into some one, pitch into that selfish

-ole tub a-readin' that big paper up there. He turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>

-his back on me when I hinted round him for the

-loan of a dollar or so."</p>

-

-<p>"And I'll thank you to keep a stiff tongue when

-you speak of that gentleman," said the lad, smartly,

-"for he's my father."</p>

-

-<p>"Your father!" echoed 'Tilda Jane, in astonishment.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>

-

-<p>"Did he <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'onct have blue eyes'">once have blue eyes</ins> an' curly hair?"</p>

-

-<p>"I believe so. He's a good-looking man yet."</p>

-

-<p>"He's a&mdash;" began 'Tilda Jane, hurriedly, then

-she stopped short. "Law me&mdash;I'll never learn to

-forgive folks before the sun goes down; I'm gettin'

-wickeder an' wickeder. What's your name, sir?

-I'll want to send you this money soon's I earn

-some."</p>

-

-<p>"My name is Datus Waysmith, and my father is

-the biggest lumber merchant on the Ciscasset

-River."</p>

-

-<p>"Is he?" she said, wistfully, "an' have you got

-more family?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, I have a mother as pretty as a picture, and

-three sisters."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"An' you have a nice room with a fire that ain't

-boxed up, an' you sit round, an' no other folks come

-in, an' no bells ring for you to get up and do somethin'?"</p>

-

-<p>"We have loads of rooms in our house," said the

-lad, boastfully. "It's the biggest one in Ciscasset.

-You'll soon find out where we live. Here we are

-most in&mdash;Iceboro next, then home," and he flattened

-his face against the glass.</p>

-

-<p>Outside in the dark night, bright lights appeared,

-danced over the snowy country, then disappeared.

-The train was running through the outskirts of a

-prosperous town.</p>

-

-<p>"Is Ciscasset a nice place?" asked 'Tilda Jane,

-wistfully.</p>

-

-<p>"Slowest old place that ever was. I'd like to live

-in Bangor or Portland. There's something going on

-there. We've nothing but a river, and mills, and

-trees, and hills&mdash;not a decent theatre in the place."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane did not know what a theatre was, and

-discreetly held her peace.</p>

-

-<p>"I say&mdash;here we are!" exclaimed the boy. "I

-hope mamma will have a good supper."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>A shadow overspread 'Tilda Jane's face, and seeing

-it, the boy said, impulsively, "Stop here a minute&mdash;I

-want to speak to papa," and he rushed away.</p>

-

-<p>The little girl sat still. They were going more

-slowly now, and all the men in the car were standing

-up, putting on coats and warm caps. She had no

-wrap, but her dress was thick, and hugging Gippie

-closer, she felt that she should not suffer from the

-cold.</p>

-

-<p>The boy was making an animated appeal to his

-father, who was asking him short, quick questions.

-At last he gave him a brief, "Very well!" and the

-boy ran back to 'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>"Papa says you can ride with us. I told him you

-had no one to meet you, and it would be cold comfort

-wandering about alone to find your way. He

-used to think a lot of Dillson, but you'd better not

-talk to him."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane trailed slowly after her guide through

-the crowd of people leaving the train, and passing

-through the lighted stone station to the yard outside.

-Here were drawn up a number of sleighs.

-The boy led her to the handsomest one.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Jump up on the box with Jenks," he said in a

-whisper. "Curl down under the rug, and I'll bring

-dog number two. He'll run behind, won't he?"</p>

-

-<p>"I guess so," replied 'Tilda Jane, with an equally

-mysterious whisper, and she slipped down under the

-soft bearskin robe.</p>

-

-<p>In two minutes the boy came back, leading

-Poacher by a small rope. "I'll just tie him behind,"

-he said, "to make sure. He's all right&mdash;and

-here's papa."</p>

-

-<p>He stood aside, while his dignified parent got into

-the sleigh. 'Tilda Jane, from her high seat, looked

-around once. The lumber merchant and his son

-were down in a black valley of soft, smothering furs,

-Poacher was running agreeably behind, and Gippie

-was snug and warm in her lap.</p>

-

-<p>No one spoke during the drive, and they glided

-swiftly through the snowy town. 'Tilda Jane had

-a confused vision of lighted shops with frosty windows,

-of houses with more sober illuminations, then

-suddenly they were stealing along the brink of a

-long and narrow snow-filled hollow. This was the

-Ciscasset River, still held by its winter covering.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>

-She thought she heard a murmur of "rotten ice"

-behind her as the lumber merchant addressed his

-son, and she was enough a child of the State to

-know that a reference to the breaking up of the ice

-in the river was intended.</p>

-

-<p>Presently they dashed up a long avenue of leafless,

-hardwood trees to a big house on the hill. A hall

-door was thrown open, and within was a glimpse of

-paradise for the homeless orphan. Softly tinted

-lights in the background illuminated and made

-angelically beautiful the white dresses and glowing

-faces of a lady and three little girls who stood on

-the threshold with outstretched arms.</p>

-

-<p>The father and son welcomed to these embraces

-had forgotten 'Tilda Jane, and as the sleigh slowly

-turned and went down the cold avenue, tears

-streamed silently down her cheeks.</p>

-

-<p>"Where am I to take you?" suddenly asked the

-solemn coachman beside her.</p>

-

-<p>"To Hobart Dillson's," she said, in a choking

-voice.</p>

-

-<p>Nothing more was said, she saw nothing, heard

-nothing, felt nothing of her immediate surroundings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>

-She had once been taken to a circus, and the picture

-now before her mind was that of a tiger pacing back

-and forth in his cage, growling in a low monotonous

-tone, always growling, growling at a miserable child

-shrinking outside.</p>

-

-<p>"That there is Dillson's cottage, I think," said

-the coachman at last.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane roused herself. Through her blurred

-vision a small house wavered at the end of a snowy

-path. She wiped her eyes hastily, thanked the man,

-and, slipping from her high seat, ran behind the

-sleigh and untied Poacher.</p>

-

-<p>The man turned his sleigh and glided slowly out

-of sight. She stood watching him till he disappeared,

-then, followed by her two dogs went reluctantly

-up the path.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XV.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">THE FRENCH FAMILY.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane stood entranced. This was not the

-Dillson cottage, the coachman had made a mistake.

-She stood staring in the window, for this was a sight

-that pleased her above all other sights.</p>

-

-<p>Here was another family,&mdash;a happy family, evidently,

-all gathered around a cheerful fire in a good-sized

-living-room. There were an old grandfather

-in the corner smoking a pipe, an old woman beside

-him with a white cap on her head, a middle-aged

-man cleaning a gun by the light of a lamp on the

-table, a middle-aged woman knitting a stocking, and

-a cluster of children of all ages about the grandfather,

-grandmother, father and mother.</p>

-

-<p>Mingled with the crackling of the open fire was

-a very gay clatter of tongues speaking in some foreign

-language, and one boy's voice soared above the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>

-rest in the words of a song that 'Tilda Jane was

-afterward to learn:</p>

-

-<div class="poetry-container" lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><div class="poetry">

-<p class="verseq">"<em>Un Canadien errant,</em></p>

-<p class="verse"><em>Bannis de son pays,</em></p>

-<p class="verse"><em>Parconrait en pleurant,</em></p>

-<p class="verse"><em>Un pays étranger.</em>"</p>

-</div></div>

-

-<p>She gazed at them until the sense of increasing

-cold checked her rapture, and made her move regretfully

-toward the door and rap on it.</p>

-

-<p>It was immediately opened by a brown-eyed child,

-and held far back as if she were expected to enter.</p>

-

-<p>"Can you tell me where Mr. Hobart Dillson

-lives?"</p>

-

-<p>"<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ou-ay, ma'mzelle</i>," murmured the child, bashfully

-hanging her head.</p>

-

-<p>"But enter&mdash;it is cold," called the mother, rising

-and coming forward, stocking in hand.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane felt drawn toward this alluring family

-circle, and one minute later was sitting in a chair

-on its circumference.</p>

-

-<p>"But come in, dawgie," said the mother gently

-to Poacher, who stood hesitating on the threshold.</p>

-

-<p>He came in, and was greeted silently and politely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>

-by two respectable curs that rose from the hearth-stone

-for the purpose, then he lay down beside them,

-and gratefully extended his limbs to the fire.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane sat for a minute looking about her

-without speaking. These people were not staring

-at her, but they were all stealing occasional curious

-glances in her direction.</p>

-

-<p>"I'm lookin' for Hobart Dillson's," she said,

-bluntly, "but I guess there ain't no such person,

-for the nearer I get the more he seems to run

-off."</p>

-

-<p>The mother of the family smiled, and 'Tilda Jane

-gazed in admiration at the soft black eyes under

-the firm brows. "I can tell you, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>&mdash;he

-is near by, even nex' doah."</p>

-

-<p>"Oh!" murmured 'Tilda Jane, then she fell into

-meditation. These people were foreigners, poor,

-too, evidently, though perfectly neat and clean.

-She wondered how they got into the country.</p>

-

-<p>"You air emigrants?" she said, at last, inquiringly.</p>

-

-<p>"French," said the woman, "'Cajien French&mdash;sent

-from our country long ago. Our people went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>

-back. We returned to earn a little money. Too

-many people where we lived."</p>

-

-<p>"Did you come through Vanceboro?" asked

-'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>The woman's liquid eyes appealed to her husband.

-He shrugged his shoulders, looked down the barrel

-of his gun, and said, "It is a long time ago we

-come. I do not know."</p>

-

-<p>"Mebbe they weren't so partickler," observed

-'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>"Let um do!" came in a sepulchral voice from

-the fireplace.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane stared at the old grandfather, who

-had taken his pipe from his mouth to utter the

-phrase, and was now putting it back.</p>

-

-<p>The house-mother addressed her. "Do not fear,

-<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>; it is the only English he knows. He

-means 'all right, do not anxious yourself, be calm,

-very calm.'"</p>

-

-<p>"Does he?" murmured 'Tilda Jane; then she

-added, unwillingly, "I must be going."</p>

-

-<p>"Delay youself yet a leetle," urged the woman,

-and her pitying eyes ran over the girl's drooping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>

-figure. "The children go to make corn hot.

-Marie&mdash;" and a stream of foreign syllables trickled

-and gurgled from her lips, delighting and fascinating

-her caller.</p>

-

-<p>A little maid danced from the fireplace to one

-of the tiny pigeon-hole rooms opening from the

-large one, and presently came back with a bag of

-corn and a popper.</p>

-

-<p>"And a glass of milk for <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>," said the

-woman to another child.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane was presently sipping her milk, eating

-a piece of dark brown bread, and gazing dreamily

-at the fire. Why could she not linger in this

-pleasant home.</p>

-

-<p>"You know Mr. Dillson?" she said, rousing

-herself with an effort, and turning to her hostess.</p>

-

-<p>"But yes&mdash;we have lived nex' him for so many

-yeahs."</p>

-

-<p>"Do you think I can keep house for him?" asked

-'Tilda Jane, wistfully.</p>

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-<a name="p190" id="p190"></a>

-<img src="images/p190.jpg" width="550" alt="" />

-<div class="caption">"'YOU ARE YOUNG FOR THAT, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">MADEMOISELLE</i>, YET&mdash;'"</div>

-<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>

-</div>

-

-<p>The woman hesitated, laid her knitting on her

-lap, and thoughtfully smoothed her tweed dress.

-"You are young for that, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>, yet&mdash;" and

-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>she scrutinised 'Tilda Jane's dark, composed, almost

-severe face&mdash;"if a girl could do it, I should think

-yes&mdash;you can. He is seeck, poor man. He walks

-not well at all. It makes him&mdash;"</p>

-

-<p>"Like the evil one," muttered her husband,

-clutching his gun more tightly; "if he was a crow,

-I would shoot."</p>

-

-<p>"Let um do!" came in guttural tones from

-grandfather's corner.</p>

-

-<p>The woman laughed merrily, and all anxiety faded

-from her face. "Hark to <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gran'père</i>&mdash;it makes me

-feel good, so good. No one can make us feel bad

-if we feel not bad ourselves. Deelson is seeck. He

-is not hap-py. Let us not be seeck, too. Let us be

-hap-py. <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Allons mes enfants, est-ce que le</i>&mdash;" and

-then followed more smooth syllables that 'Tilda Jane

-did not understand.</p>

-

-<p>She soon saw, however, that an order had been

-given to butter and salt the corn, and presently she

-was shyly but sweetly offered some by the French

-children. Even Poacher and Gippie had some kernels

-laid before them, and in the midst of her concern

-as to Mr. Dillson's behaviour, her heart swelled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>

-with gratitude to think that she should have such

-good neighbours. Here all was gentleness and peace.

-She had never seen so kind a woman, such amiable

-children. Did they ever quarrel and slap each other,

-she wondered.</p>

-

-<p>"It's getting late, ain't it?" she exclaimed at last,

-with uneasiness. "I must go," and she rose quickly.</p>

-

-<p>"But you can stay all night if you desiah," said

-the woman, motioning toward the pigeon-holes.

-"Stay, and go nex' doah in the morning."</p>

-

-<p>"No, no, I must not," said 'Tilda Jane very hastily,

-through fear that she might yield to so pleasant a

-temptation. "But can I drop in an' see you by

-spells?"</p>

-

-<p>"But yes, yes&mdash;certainly, come often," said the

-woman. "Come at any hour," she said under her

-breath, and seizing 'Tilda Jane's hand in her own,

-"if it is not agreeable there, at any time run here."</p>

-

-<p>"I'm 'bliged to you," said Tilda Jane, gratefully,

-"much 'bliged, an' if you want any floors scrubbed,

-or anythin' done, jus' you run over an' get me. I'll

-come&mdash;" and with a sturdy nod of her head, she

-took her dogs, and slipped out into the darkness.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"If agreeable leave your dogs here till mornin',"

-called the woman after her.</p>

-

-<p>The little girl shook her head. "I guess he'd

-better see 'em right off. Good-night, an' thank

-you."</p>

-

-<p>The woman clasped her hands, and, looking up at

-the sky before she went into the house, murmured

-in her own language, "Holy One, guard her from

-that terrible rage!"</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XVI.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">THE TIGER IN HIS LAIR.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>The next house to that of the French people was

-larger and more pretentious than theirs. It had

-more of a garden, there were two stories instead of

-one, and the roof was surmounted by a tiny tower.</p>

-

-<p>The outside of the tiger's den was highly satisfactory,

-and 'Tilda Jane smiled in weary stoical humour.

-Now to find the particular corner in which

-the tiger himself abode. The house was dark, except

-for one feeble glimmer of light on the ground floor.

-She had rapped at the front door, she had rapped at

-the back door without getting any response, and now

-she returned to the latter to see if perchance it had

-been left unfastened.</p>

-

-<p>It had, and lifting the latch cautiously, she went

-in. She knew Mr. Dillson was an old man, she

-knew he was lame, and possibly he heard her, but

-could not come to her rescue. Passing through a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>

-small porch where she stumbled against some heaped

-up pans, she turned the first door-knob she touched

-in passing her hand around the dark wall.</p>

-

-<p>She found herself in a kitchen. The table in the

-middle of the floor, the chairs, the dresser, were all

-illumined by a feeble, dying glow in a small cooking

-stove, and by the beams of a candle struggling

-through an open door.</p>

-

-<p>Poacher and Gippie crept after her as she proceeded

-slowly in the direction of this light. They

-felt that there was something mysterious afoot.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane paused at the bedroom door. Here

-was the lair of the tiger, and there was the tiger

-himself,&mdash;an old man with white hair, red eyes, and

-a night-cap. A candle was on a shelf by the head

-of the bed, and a pair of crutches was within reaching

-distance, and the old man was lifting his head

-from the pillow in astonishment.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane could not help laughing aloud in her

-relief. This was not a very dangerous looking person.

-He seemed more amazed than vexed, and she

-laughed again as she noted his clutch of the bed-clothes,

-and the queer poise of his white head.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"'Scuse me, sir," she said, humbly, "for comin'

-this time o' night, but I thought you'd like me to

-report first thing. I hope you've heard from your

-son I was comin'?"</p>

-

-<p>The old man said nothing. He was still open-mouthed

-and dumb, but something in his face

-assured 'Tilda Jane that he had heard&mdash;he had

-received some news of her, apart from the telegram

-sent by Mr. Jack.</p>

-

-<p>"I've had lots o' speriences," she said, with a tired

-gesture. "I'll tell 'em some other time. I jus'

-wanted to 'nounce my 'rival, an' tell you I'm goin'

-to wait on you good&mdash;I guess I'll go to bed, if

-you'll tell me where to get a candle, an' where I'm

-to sleep."</p>

-

-<p>He would tell her nothing. He simply lay and

-glared at her, and by no means disposed to seek a

-quarrel with him, she made her way back to the

-kitchen, opened the stove door, and, lighting a piece

-of paper, searched the room until she found the

-closet where the candles were kept.</p>

-

-<p>The old man lay motionless in his bed. He heard

-her searching, heard the dogs pattering after her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>

-and a violent perspiration broke out upon him.

-Wrath sometimes gave him unwonted fluency of

-speech. To-night it rendered him speechless. He

-did not wish this beggar's brat to wait on him.

-Hank had not asked his permission to send her&mdash;had

-simply announced that she was coming. He

-was treated as if he were a baby&mdash;an idiot, and this

-was his own house. Hank had nothing to do with

-it. He didn't care if Hank did pay her. He had

-money enough of his own to hire a housekeeper.

-But he didn't want one. He wanted to wait on

-himself. He hated to have women cluttering round,

-and he lay, and perspired, and inwardly raged, and

-obtained not one wink of sleep, while 'Tilda Jane,

-having obtained what she wished, peacefully composed

-herself to rest.</p>

-

-<p>First though, she calmly bade him "Good-night,"

-told him to "holler," if he wanted anything, and,

-calling her dogs, went off in search of a bed for

-herself.</p>

-

-<p>Beyond the kitchen was a front hall,&mdash;cold,

-dusty, and comfortless. Up-stairs were four rooms,

-two unfurnished, one having something the appear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>ance

-of a spare room left long unoccupied, the other

-smelling of tobacco, exceedingly untidy, littered with

-old clothes, fishing rods, bats, cartridge shells, and

-other boyish and manly belongings. This must be

-Hank's room, probably it had been occupied later

-than the other, and the bed would not be so damp.

-She would sleep here, and she turned down the

-clothes.</p>

-

-<p>"Good land!" she murmured, "I wonder how

-long sence those blankets has been washed?" and

-she turned them back again, and, going to the

-other room, obtained two coverlets that she spread

-over herself, after she lay down on the outside of the

-bed.</p>

-

-<p>The dogs had already curled themselves up on a

-heap of clothes on the floor, and in a few minutes

-the three worn-out travellers were fast asleep.</p>

-

-<p>When 'Tilda Jane lifted her head from her very

-shady pillow the next morning, her ears were saluted

-by the gentle patter of rain. The atmosphere was

-milder&mdash;a thaw had set in.</p>

-

-<p>She sprang up, and went to the dogs, who were

-still snoring in their corner. "Wake up," she said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>

-touching them with her foot. Gippie started, but

-something in the expression of Poacher's eloquent

-eyes told her that, although he had been apparently

-sound asleep, he knew perfectly well what was going

-on about him.</p>

-

-<p>"Let's go and see Mr. Dillson," she exclaimed,

-and picking up Gippie, she ran down-stairs with

-Poacher at her heels.</p>

-

-<p>"It ain't cold&mdash;it's just pleasant," she muttered,

-turning the key with difficulty in the front door, and

-throwing it open.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, my, how pretty!" and she clasped her hands

-in delight. Across the road was the deep hollow of

-the river. She was in one of a line of cottages following

-its bank, and across the river were fields and

-hills, now a soft, hazy picture in the rain. But the

-sun would shine, fine days would come&mdash;what an

-ideal place for a home! and her heart swelled with

-thankfulness, and she forgot the cross old man in

-the room behind her.</p>

-

-<p>The cross old man would have given the world

-to have turned her out of his house at that very

-minute, but his night of sleeplessness and raging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>

-temper had given him a fierce headache, a bad

-taste in his mouth, and such a helplessness of limbs

-that he could not turn in bed.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane fortunately did not know that if he

-could have commanded his tongue he would have

-ordered her into the street, but she saw that there

-was something wrong with him, and as she stood in

-his doorway, she said, pityingly, "I guess you're

-sick; I'll make you some breakfast," and she vanished

-in the direction of the wood-shed.</p>

-

-<p>He heard her chopping sticks, he heard the brisk

-snapping of the fire and the singing of the teakettle.

-He heard her breaking eggs&mdash;two eggs

-when he never cooked more than one at a time!

-He opened his mouth to protest, but only gave

-utterance to a low roar that brought Poacher, who

-happened to be the only one in the kitchen, into his

-room to stare gravely and curiously at him.</p>

-

-<p>She made an omelet, she toasted bread, she

-steeped him a cup of tea&mdash;this slip of a girl. She

-had evidently been taught to cook, but he hated her

-none the less as she brought in a tray and set it

-beside his bed.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>He would not touch the food, and he gave her

-a look from his angry eyes that sent her speedily

-from the room, and made her close the door behind

-her.</p>

-

-<p>"I guess he'd like to gimme a crack with them

-crutches," she reflected, soberly, "I'd better keep

-out of his way till he's over it. Reminds me o' the

-matron's little spells."</p>

-

-<p>If she had been a petted darling from some loving

-home, she would have fled from the cottage in dismay.

-As it was, although she suffered, it was not

-with the keenness of despair. All her life she had

-been on the defensive. Some one had always found

-fault with her, some one was always ready to punish

-her. Unstinted kindness would have melted her,

-but anger always increased her natural obstinacy.

-She had been sent here to take care of this old man,

-and she was going to do it. She was too unconventional,

-and too ignorant, to reflect that her protective

-attitude would have been better changed for a

-suppliant one in entering the old man's domain.</p>

-

-<p>However, if she had meekly begged the privilege

-of taking care of him, he would have sent her away,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>

-and as she was given neither to hair-splitting nor

-introspection, but rather to the practical concerns of

-life, she calmly proceeded with her task of tidying

-the house without reference to future possibilities.</p>

-

-<p>The kitchen was the first place to be attacked, and

-she carefully examined the stove. It smoked a little.

-It needed cleaning, and girding on some old aprons

-she found in the porch, she let the fire go out, and

-then brushed, and rubbed, and poked at the stove

-until it was almost as clean outside as it was inside.

-Her next proceeding was to take everything off the

-walls, and wipe them down with a cloth-bedraped

-broom. Then she moved all the dishes off the

-dresser, washed the chairs, and scrubbed the

-floor.</p>

-

-<p>Then, and not until then, did she reopen the door

-into the old man's room. Now he could see what a

-clean kitchen she had, and how merrily the fire was

-burning in the stove. It was also twelve o'clock,

-and she must look about for something more to

-eat.</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Dillson had not touched his breakfast, so she

-ate it herself, made him fresh toast, a cup of tea, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>

-a tiny meat hash, then went up-stairs to tidy her

-bedroom.</p>

-

-<p>The hash was well-seasoned, and the odour of

-onions greeted the old man's nostrils tantalisingly.

-He was really hungry now. His wrath had burned

-down for lack of fuel, and some power had come

-back to his limbs. He ate his dinner, got out of

-bed, dressed himself, and limped out to the kitchen.</p>

-

-<p>When he had dropped in his big rocking-chair, he

-gazed around the room. The girl had done more in

-one morning than all the women he had ever

-employed had done in three. Perhaps it would be

-economy to keep her. He was certainly growing

-more feeble, and a tear of self-pity stood in his eye.</p>

-

-<p>There she was now, coming from the French-woman's

-house. She had been over there to borrow

-sheets, and a flash of impotent rage swept over

-him. He tried to have no dealings with those foreigners.

-He hated them, and they hated him. This

-girl must go, he could not stand her.</p>

-

-<p>The back of his rocking-chair was padded, and

-before he realised what was happening, his state

-of fuming passed into one of sleepiness,&mdash;he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>

-off, soundly and unmistakably announcing in plain

-terms, through throat and nose, to the world of the

-kitchen, that he was making up for time lost last

-night.</p>

-

-<p>When he opened his eyes, it was late afternoon,

-and 'Tilda Jane, sitting at a safe distance from him,

-was knitting an unfinished sock of his, left by his

-dead wife some ten years ago.</p>

-

-<p>He blinked at her in non-committal silence. She

-gave him one shrewd glance, with her toe pushed

-Gippie's recumbent body nearer her own chair, and

-went on with her work. If he wanted to hear her

-talk, he could ask questions.</p>

-

-<p>The afternoon wore away and evening came.

-When it grew quite dark 'Tilda Jane got up,

-lighted a lamp, put on the teakettle, and with

-the slender materials at hand prepared a meal

-that she set before the uncommunicative old man.</p>

-

-<p>He ate it, rolling his eyes around the clean

-kitchen meanwhile, but not saying a word.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane kept at a safe distance from him

-until he had finished and had limped into bed.

-She then approached the table and ate a few mor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>sels

-herself, muttering as she did so, "I ain't hungry,

-but I mus' eat enough to help me square up to that

-poor ole crossy."</p>

-

-<p>She was, however, too tired to enjoy her supper,

-and soon leaving it, she washed her dishes and went

-up-stairs.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XVII.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">THE TIGER MAKES A SPRING.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>The situation would have been absurd if it had

-not been painful. The next morning the old man

-was still in the same mood, angry at the girl's invasion

-of his premises, and yet so appreciative of the

-value of her energetic ways that he did not insist on

-her departure. And so day after day, for a whole

-week, 'Tilda Jane lived on, keeping house for the

-old man, but saying not one word to him.</p>

-

-<p>He would not speak to her, and she would not

-begin a conversation with him. She prepared his

-meals from food that the storekeeper and butcher

-readily gave her on the old man's account, and exercised

-her tongue by talking to her dogs.</p>

-

-<p>Occasionally she called on her French neighbours,

-the Melançons, and from them gleaned various items

-of information about the eccentric Mr. Dillson, without,

-however, allowing them to know that he would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>

-not speak to her. This secret she proudly kept to

-herself. She found out from them that the old man

-was ordinarily in better health than at present,&mdash;that

-he was usually able to hobble about the house

-and wait on himself, for his temper had of late

-become so violent that no woman in Ciscasset

-would enter his house to work for him. Therefore,

-'Tilda Jane's arrival had been most opportune,

-for he would have been in danger of starving to

-death if left to himself.</p>

-

-<p>Feeling persuaded of this, and greatly pleased to

-think that she had been and was of service to the

-father of her benefactor Hank, her attitude toward

-the old man continued to be one of philosophical and

-good-natured obstinacy. She would not speak to

-him, but she was willing to wait on him in silence,

-looking forward to the time when he would find his

-tongue.</p>

-

-<p>Her only fear of his sullenness was on behalf of

-her dogs. He hated them&mdash;she knew it by the

-menacing tremble of his crutches whenever the

-animals came within his reach. Therefore, her

-constant endeavour was to keep them out of his way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>

-She had made two soft, persuasive beds in the

-wood-shed for them; but it was cold there, and she

-could not stay with them. They loved her with

-all the strength of their doggish hearts, and wished

-to be with her every minute of the time.</p>

-

-<p>Often at night she would start up in bed from

-troubled dreams of a fierce old figure mounting the

-staircase, crutch in hand. There was no lock on

-her bedroom door, and if the old man had a sudden

-accession of strength, he could easily push aside

-the barrier of a wash-stand and two chairs that she

-put across this door before she went to bed.</p>

-

-<p>She wished that Hank would come home. He

-might persuade his peculiar parent to end this

-unnatural silence, and give her a chance to become

-acquainted with him.</p>

-

-<p>"Mebbe he'll soon come, Poacher," she whispered

-in the ear of the dog who was sitting close beside

-her. "We'll make up our minds for that, won't

-we?"</p>

-

-<p>The dog was sitting up very straight beside her,

-and gazing benevolently down at Gippie, who lay

-on her lap. They were all out on the front door<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>-step,

-and 'Tilda Jane was knitting industriously.

-It was a day like May in the month of March&mdash;there

-was a soft, mild air and a warm sun that made

-dripping eaves and melting snow-banks. Little

-streams of water were running from the garden

-to the road, and from the road to the hollow of the

-river, where large cakes of ice were slowly loosening

-themselves, breaking up and floating toward the

-sea. Spring was coming, and 'Tilda Jane, despite

-the incorrigible sulkiness of the person with whom

-she was living, felt it good to have a home.</p>

-

-<p>"We'll have lots o' sport by an' by runnin'

-in the fields, Poacher," she whispered, lovingly, in

-his ear, "you ole comfort&mdash;always so sweet, an'

-good, an' never sassing back. You jus' creep away

-when you see some one comin' and don't say a

-word, do you? You're a sample to me; I wish

-I was like you. An' you never want to be bad,

-do you, an' chase back to the woods?"</p>

-

-<p>The dog abandoned his stately attitude, and gave

-his tongue a quick fillip in the direction of her forehead.

-No&mdash;thanks to her intense devotion to him,

-he had no time for mournful reflections on the past.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"But I guess you'd like to see your master sometimes,"

-she murmured. "I see a hankerin' in your

-eyes now an' agin, ole feller, an' then I jus' talk

-to you hard. You darlin'!" and throwing her

-arm around his neck, she squeezed him heartily.</p>

-

-<p>He was boldly reciprocating, by licking her little,

-straight, determined nose, when there was a clicking

-sound around the corner of the house.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane released him and raised her head.

-The old man was approaching, leaning heavily on

-his crutches. The beauty of the day had penetrated

-and animated even his ancient bones. 'Tilda Jane

-was delighted to see him moving about, but, giving

-no sign of her satisfaction, she rose and prepared

-to enter the house. He did not approve of having

-the front door unlocked, he did not approve of her

-habit of dodging out-of-doors whenever she had no

-work to do inside. She felt this, although he had

-never said it, and pushing Gippie into the hall, she

-stepped down the walk to pick up her ball of yarn.</p>

-

-<p>The dog's enemy was some distance away, and

-seeing him leaning so heavily on his crutches, it did

-not occur to her that there could be any fear of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>

-danger. However, with all her acuteness, she did

-not measure the depth of his animosity, nor the

-agility with which it could inspire him.</p>

-

-<p>With a deftness and lightness that would have

-been admirable if it had not been cruel, the old man

-bore all his weight on one crutch, swung the other

-around in the air, and with the heavy end struck

-a swift, sure blow on Poacher's glossy black forehead.</p>

-

-<p>It was all done in the twinkling of an eye&mdash;in

-the short space of time that the little girl's back

-was turned. She heard the crashing blow, flashed

-around, and saw the black body of the dog extended

-on a white snow-bank. His eyes were open, his

-expression was still the loving one with which he

-had been regarding her as she stooped to pick up

-the ball.</p>

-

-<p>For an instant 'Tilda Jane felt no emotion but

-wonder. She stood stock-still, staring alternately

-at the old man and at the motionless body of the

-dog. It had occurred to her that he would kill one

-of her pets if he had a chance, but now that he

-had done it, the thing seemed unreal, almost absurd.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>

-Surely she was dreaming&mdash;that was not Poacher

-lying there dead.</p>

-

-<p>She went up to the dog, touched him with soft,

-amazed fingers, lifted the velvet ears, and put her

-hands on his forehead. There was the slightest

-ruffling of the smooth skin where the crutch had

-struck him.</p>

-

-<p>The old man stood and watched her for a few

-seconds, his face a trifle redder than usual, but

-giving no other sign of emotion. He watched her

-until she lifted her head and looked at him, then

-he turned hastily and limped to the back door.</p>

-

-<p>It was an awful look to see on the face of a child,&mdash;an

-avenging, unforgiving, hateful look,&mdash;the look

-of a grown person in cold, profound wrath. He did

-not regret killing the dog, he would like to dispose

-of the other one, but he did object to those murderous

-eyes. She was capable of killing him. He

-must get rid of her, and make his peace with some

-of the Ciscasset witches, in order that they might

-come and wait on him.</p>

-

-<p>He went thoughtfully into the house and sat

-down in his usual corner beyond the kitchen stove.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>

-He wondered whether she would give him any supper.

-He could get it himself to-night if she did not.

-He was certainly better, and a glow of pleasure

-made his blood feel warm in his veins.</p>

-

-<p>Stay&mdash;there she was, coming slowly in&mdash;he

-thanked his lucky stars, looking very much the same

-as usual. He would not be slain in his bed that

-night. And she was getting fresh wood for the fire.

-Perhaps she would make hot cakes for supper. She

-was wonderfully smart for a girl. He had several

-times speculated as to her age. Sometimes when

-talking to the dogs she seemed no more than eleven

-or twelve years old. Ordinarily she appeared to

-him about fifteen, but small for the age. To-day in

-her wrath, she might be taken for seventeen. How

-subdued she seemed as she moved about the kitchen.

-He had done a good thing to strike down one of

-those animals. She would not have such an independent

-air now.</p>

-

-<p>She built up the fire, set the teakettle on the

-back of the stove&mdash;he wondered why she did not

-put it on the front, and why she gradually piled on

-sticks of wood until there was a roaring blaze that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>

-caused him some slight uneasiness. Was she going

-to set the chimney on fire?</p>

-

-<p>No, she was not; when there was a bed of fiery red

-coals, she took up her tiny padded holder, lifted off

-one of the stove covers, then, to his surprise, went into

-the corner behind him, where he kept his crutches.</p>

-

-<p>What was she going to do? and he uneasily

-turned his head.</p>

-

-<p>She had both his crutches in her hand&mdash;his polished

-wooden crutches with the gold plate inscription.

-Years ago, when he resigned his position as

-bookkeeper at Waysmith and Son's big mill, a gold-headed

-cane had been presented to him, on which

-was engraved a flattering inscription. Nothing that

-had ever been given to him in his life had tickled

-his vanity as this present from the rich and prosperous

-firm had done.</p>

-

-<p>When he had been obliged to put away the cane

-on account of his increasing bodily infirmities, he

-had had the gold plate inscription transferred to his

-crutches where he could see it all the time, and have

-others see it. Now&mdash;what was she going to do

-with those crutches?</p>

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-<a name="p215" id="p215"></a>

-<img src="images/p215.jpg" width="600" alt="" />

-<div class="caption">"HE LIFTED UP HIS VOICE AND ROARED AT HER."</div>

-<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>

-</div>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>He opened his mouth, and for the first time

-addressed her. "Put those crutches down."</p>

-

-<p>She paid less attention to him than she did to

-the crackling of the fire. Walking behind his chair,

-and making a wide circle to avoid his outstretched

-arms, she went to the other side of the stove and&mdash;</p>

-

-<p>He lifted up his voice and roared at her. She

-was sticking the legs of his crutches down in that

-fiery furnace.</p>

-

-<p>He roared again, but she did not even raise her

-head. She was holding the crutches down, stuffing

-them in, burning them off inch by inch&mdash;very

-quietly, very deliberately, but very surely. She was

-not thinking of him, she was thinking of the dead

-dog out on the snow.</p>

-

-<p>He kept quiet for a few seconds, then he began

-to bellow for mercy. She was burning up to the

-cross-bar handles, she would soon reach that gold-plate

-inscription, and now for the first time he knew

-what those eulogistic words were to him&mdash;he, a

-man who had had the temper of a maniac that had

-cut him off from the sympathy of every human being

-he knew.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>Tears ran down his cheeks&mdash;in incoherent words

-he stammered an apology for killing her dog, and

-then she relented.</p>

-

-<p>Throwing the charred and smoking tops to him,

-she shut up the stove, took her hat and tippet from

-a peg in the wall, and clasping Gippie to her, left the

-house without one glance at the old man as he sat in

-the smoky atmosphere mumbling to himself, and

-fumbling over the burnt pieces of wood as tenderly

-as if they had been babies.</p>

-

-<p>She had conquered him, but without caring for

-her conquest she left him.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XVIII.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">IN SEARCH OF A PERFECT MAN.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>Ciscasset, perhaps most beautiful of Maine towns

-near the Canadian border, was particularly beautiful

-on the morning after 'Tilda Jane's departure from

-Hobart Dillson's cottage. The sun was still shining

-fervently&mdash;so fervently that men threw open their

-top-coats or carried them on their arms; the sky

-was still of the delicate pink and blue haze of the

-day before, the wind was a breath of spring blown at

-departing winter.</p>

-

-<p>It was still early, and beautiful Ciscasset was not

-yet really astir. Few women were to be seen on

-the streets,&mdash;only a score of shop-girls hurrying to

-their work,&mdash;but men abounded. Clerks were going

-to their desks and counters, and early rising business

-men to their offices. Market-men swarmed in from

-the country in order to be the first to sell their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>

-produce in the prosperous little town with the Indian

-name.</p>

-

-<p>Other towns and villages might direct their search

-across the sea for European titles for streets and

-homes. Ciscasset prided itself on being American

-and original. The Indian names were native to the

-State, and with scarcely an exception prevailed in

-the nomenclature of the town. Therefore the&mdash;in

-other places Main Street&mdash;was here Kennebago

-Street, and down this street a group of farmers was

-slowly proceeding. They had sold their farm produce

-to grocers and stable-keepers, and were now

-going to the post-office for their mail.</p>

-

-<p>Assembled a few moments later in a corner of the

-gray stone building, and diligently reading letters

-and papers, they did not see a small figure approaching,

-and only looked up when a grave voice inquired,

-"Air you too busy to speak to me a minute?"</p>

-

-<p>The men all stared at the young girl with the dog

-in her arms, the heavy circles around her eyes, and

-the two red spots on her cheeks.</p>

-

-<p>"What do you want?" asked the oldest farmer, a

-gray-haired man in a rabbit-skin cap.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"I want to find the best minister in this place."</p>

-

-<p>A smile went around the circle of farmers. They

-were all amused, except the gray-haired one. He

-was nearest to 'Tilda Jane, and felt the intense

-gravity of her manner.</p>

-

-<p>"In the town, I mean," she went on, wearily. "I

-want to ask him something. I thought they'd know

-in the post-office, but when I asked behind them

-boxes," and she nodded toward the wall near them,

-"they told me to get out&mdash;they was busy."</p>

-

-<p>The old farmer was silent for a moment. Then

-he said, gruffly, "You look beat out, young girl, like

-as if you'd been out all night."</p>

-

-<p>"I was," she said, simply, "I've been pacin' the

-streets waitin' for the mornin'."</p>

-

-<p>The attitude of the younger men was half reproachful,

-half disturbed. They always brought

-with them to the town an uneasy consciousness that

-they might in some way be fooled, and 'Tilda Jane's

-air was very precocious, very citified, compared with

-their air of rustic coltishness. They did not dream

-that she was country-bred like themselves.</p>

-

-<p>The older man was thinking. He was nearer the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>

-red spots and the grieving eyes than the others.

-The child was in trouble.</p>

-

-<p>"Bill," he said, slowly, "what's the name o' that

-man that holds forth in Molunkus Street Church?"</p>

-

-<p>His son informed him that he did not know.</p>

-

-<p>"How d'ye do, Mr. Price," said the farmer, leaving

-the young farmers, and sauntering across to the

-other side of the post-office, where a brisk-looking

-man was ripping open letters. "Can you give us

-the name of the preacher that wags his tongue in

-the church on Molunkus Street?"</p>

-

-<p>"Burness," said Mr. Price, raising his head, and

-letting his snapping eyes run beyond the farmer to

-the flock of young men huddling together like gray

-sheep.</p>

-

-<p>"Would you call him the best man in Ciscasset?"

-pursued the farmer, with a wave of his hand toward

-'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Price's snapping eyes had already taken her in.

-"What do you mean by best?" he asked, coolly.</p>

-

-<p>"I mean a man as always does what is right,"

-said 'Tilda Jane, when the question was left for her

-to answer.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Don't go to Burness, then," said Mr. Price,

-rapidly. "Good preacher&mdash;poor practiser."</p>

-

-<p>"Ain't there any good practisers in Ciscasset?"

-asked the farmer, dryly.</p>

-

-<p>"Well&mdash;I know some pretty fair ones," responded

-Mr. Price. "I don't know of one perfect

-person in the length and breadth of the town. But

-I know two people, though, who come near enough

-to perfection for your job, I guess," and his brilliant

-glance rested on 'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>"Who be they?" asked the farmer, curiously.</p>

-

-<p>"Is it this young girl that wants 'em?" asked

-Mr. Price.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, sir," said the farmer, "it is."</p>

-

-<p>"Then I'll tell her," said his quicksilver friend,

-and he flashed to 'Tilda Jane's side. "Go up Wallastook

-Street to Allaguash Street. Ask for Reverend

-Mr. Tracy's house. Any one'll tell you&mdash;understand?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, sir&mdash;thank you; and thank <em>you</em>, too," and

-with a grateful gesture toward the farmer, she was

-gone.</p>

-

-<p>The farmer gazed after her. "I hate to see a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>

-young one in trouble. Someone's been imposin'

-on her."</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Price felt sympathetic, but he said nothing.</p>

-

-<p>"Who'd you send her to?" inquired the farmer.

-"I'd give a barrel of apples to know."</p>

-

-<p>"To me?" inquired Mr. Price, smartly.</p>

-

-<p>The farmer laughed. "Yes, sir&mdash;I'd do it.

-You've put me in the way of business before

-now."</p>

-

-<p>"I sent her to a man," replied Mr. Price, "who

-might be in Boston to-day if he wanted to. He gave

-up a big church to come here. He's always inveighing

-against luxury and selfishness and the other

-crowd of vices. He and his wife have stacks of

-money, but they give it away, and never do the peacock

-act. They're about as good as they make 'em.

-It isn't their talking I care about&mdash;not one rap.

-It's the carrying out of their talk, and not going

-back on it."</p>

-

-<p>"My daughter wants to go out as hired help. I

-guess that would be an A number one place, if

-they'd have her," observed the father, meditatively.

-"Good enough," said Mr. Price, "if you want<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>

-her to ruin her earthly prospects, and better her

-heavenly ones," and he went away laughing.</p>

-

-<p>The farmer stepped to the post-office door.

-'Tilda Jane was toiling up the sidewalk with downcast

-head. The shop windows had no attractions

-for her, nor was she throwing a single glance at

-the line of vehicles now passing along the street;

-and muttering, "Poor young one!" the farmer

-returned to his correspondence.</p>

-

-<p>The Reverend Mr. Tracy was having his breakfast

-in the big yellow house set up on terraces,

-which were green in summer and white in winter.

-The house was large, because it was meant to

-shelter other people beside the Tracys and their

-children, but there was not a stick of "genteel"

-furniture in it, the new housemaid from Portland was

-just disdainfully observing to the cook.</p>

-

-<p>"You'll get over that soon," remarked the cook,

-with a laugh and a toss of her head, "and will be for

-givin' away what we've got an' sittin' on the floor.

-There's the door-bell. You'd better go answer it;

-it's time the beggars was arrivin'."</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Tracy was late with his breakfast this morn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>ing,

-because he had been out half the night before

-with a drunken young man who had showed an

-unconquerable aversion to returning home. Now as

-he ate his chop and drank his hot milk, fed a parrot

-by his side, and talked to his wife, who kept moving

-about the room, he thought of this young man, until

-he caught the sound of voices in the hall.</p>

-

-<p>"Bessie," he said, quietly, "there's your new maid

-turning some one away."</p>

-

-<p>His wife stepped into the hall. The housemaid

-was indeed assuring a poor-looking child that the

-master of the house was at breakfast and could not

-see any one.</p>

-

-<p>"Then I'll wait," Mrs. Tracy heard in a dogged

-young voice. The front door closed as she hurried

-forward, but she quickly opened it. There on the

-top step sat a small girl holding a dog.</p>

-

-<p>"Good morning," she said, kindly; "do you want

-something?"</p>

-

-<p>"I want to see the Reverend Tracy," responded

-the little girl, and the clergyman's wife, used to

-sorrowful faces, felt her heart ache as this most

-sorrowful one was upturned to her.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Come in," she went on, and 'Tilda Jane found

-herself speedily walking through a wide but bare

-hall to a sunny dining-room. She paused on the

-threshold. That small, dark man must be the minister.

-He was no nearer beauty than she was, but

-he had a good face, and&mdash;let her rejoice for this&mdash;he

-was fond of animals, for on the hearth lay a cat and

-a dog asleep side by side, in the long windows hung

-canaries in cages, and on a luxuriant and beautiful

-rose-bush, growing in a big pot drawn up to the table,

-sat a green and very self-possessed parrot. She was

-not screeching, she was not tearing at the leaves, she

-sat meekly and thankfully receiving from time to

-time such morsels as her master chose to hand her.</p>

-

-<p>The little, dark, quiet man barely turned as she

-entered, but his one quick glance told him more than

-hours of conversation from 'Tilda Jane would have

-revealed. He did not get up, he did not shake

-hands with her, he merely nodded and uttered

-a brief "Good-morning."</p>

-

-<p>"Won't you sit here?" said Mrs. Tracy, bustling

-to the fireplace, and disturbing the cat and the dog

-in order to draw up a chair.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"I think our young caller will have some breakfast

-with me," said the minister, without raising his

-eyes, and stretching out his hand he pushed a chair

-beyond the rose-bush, and by a gesture invited 'Tilda

-Jane to sit in it.</p>

-

-<p>She seated herself, crowded Gippie on her lap

-under the table, and mechanically put to her mouth

-the cup of steaming milk that seemed to glide to

-her hand. She was nearly fainting. A few minutes

-more, and she would have fallen to the floor. The

-minister did not speak to her. He went calmly on

-with his breakfast, and a warning finger uplifted

-kept his wife from making remarks. He talked

-a good deal to the parrot, and occasionally to himself,

-and not until 'Tilda Jane had finished the milk

-and eaten some bread and butter did any one

-address her.</p>

-

-<p>Then the minister spoke to the bird. "Say good

-morning to the little girl, Lulu."</p>

-

-<p>"Good morning," remarked the parrot, in a voice

-of grating amiability.</p>

-

-<p>"Say 'It's a pretty world,' Lulu," continued her

-owner.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"It's a pretty world, darlin'," responded the

-parrot, bursting into hoarse, unmusical laughter at

-her own addition. "Oh, it's a pretty world&mdash;a

-pretty world!"</p>

-

-<p>To the gentleman and his wife there was something

-cynical and afflicting in the bird's comment

-on mundane affairs, and they surreptitiously examined

-their visitor. Did she feel this?</p>

-

-<p>She did&mdash;poor girl, she had been passing through

-some bitter experience. There was the haunting,

-injured look of wounded childhood on her face, and

-her curled lip showed that she, too, young as she

-was, had found that all was not good in the world,

-all was not beautiful.</p>

-

-<p>The parrot was singing now:</p>

-

-<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry">

-<p class="verseq">"'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam,</p>

-<p class="verse">Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.</p>

-<p class="verse">Home, home, sweet, s-we-e-e-t ho-o-o-me,"</p>

-</div></div>

-

-<p class="noindent">but at this point she overbalanced herself. Her

-uplifted claw swung over and she fell backward

-among the rose-branches.</p>

-

-<p>The bird's rueful expression as she fell, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>

-ridiculous one as she gathered herself up, and with

-a surprised "Oh, dear!" climbed back to her

-perch, were so overcoming that the minister and

-his wife burst into hearty laughter.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane did not join them. She looked interested,

-and a very faint crease of amusement came

-in a little fold about her lips, but at once faded

-away.</p>

-

-<p>The minister got up and went to the fire, and

-taking out his watch earnestly consulted its face,

-then addressed his wife.</p>

-

-<p>"I have a ministers' meeting in half an hour.

-Can you go down-town with me?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, dear," replied Mrs. Tracy, and she glanced

-expectantly toward 'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>The little girl started. "Can I ask you a question

-or so afore you go?" she asked, hurriedly.</p>

-

-<p>"No, my dear," said the man, with a fatherly air.

-"Not until I come back."</p>

-

-<p>"I guess some one's told you about me," remarked

-'Tilda Jane, bitterly.</p>

-

-<p>"I never heard of you, or saw you before a quarter

-of an hour ago," he replied, kindly. "Do you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>

-see that sofa?" and he drew aside a curtain. "You

-lie down there and rest, and in two hours we shall

-return. Come, Bessie&mdash;" and with his wife he left

-the room.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane was confounded, and her first idea was

-of capture. She was trapped at last, and would be

-sent back to the asylum&mdash;then a wave of different

-feeling swept over her. She would trust those two

-people anywhere, and they liked her. She could tell

-it by their looks and actions. She sighed heavily,

-almost staggered to the sofa, and throwing herself

-down, was in two minutes sleeping the sleep of utter

-exhaustion.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XIX</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">SWEET AND SOFT REPENTANCE.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>She was awakened by a hoarse whisper in her

-ear: "Get up and go on, get up and go on. Don't

-croak, don't croak!"</p>

-

-<p>Her eyelids felt as heavy as lead, it seemed as if

-she would rather die than stir her sluggish limbs, yet

-she moved slightly as the rough whisper went on,

-"Get up and go on, get up and go on. Don't croak,

-don't croak!"</p>

-

-<p>It was the parrot with the cold in her throat, and

-she was perched on the sofa cushion by her head.

-'Tilda Jane raised herself on one hand. How weary,

-how unspeakably weary she was! If she could only

-lie down again&mdash;and what was the matter with her?

-Why had she waked with that terrible feeling of

-unhappiness?</p>

-

-<p>She remembered now&mdash;Poacher was gone. She

-had not shed a tear over him before, but now she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>

-hid her face in her hands, and indulged in low and

-heart-broken lamentation. Poor Poacher&mdash;dear,

-handsome dog! She would never see him again.

-What would the Lucases say if they knew of his

-untimely end? What should she do without him?

-and she cried miserably, until the sound of voices in

-the next room recalled her to herself.</p>

-

-<p>She was in the minister's house, and she must get

-her business over with, and be gone. So choking

-back her emotion, she wiped her face, smoothed her

-dress, and, followed by Gippie, stepped into the

-dining-room.</p>

-

-<p>The minister was seated by the fire reading to

-his wife. He got up when he saw 'Tilda Jane, gave

-her a chair, then went on with his book. After

-some time he laid it down. His caller was composed

-now, and something told him that she was

-ready to consult him.</p>

-

-<p>He smiled a beautiful, gentle smile at her, and

-thus encouraged, she swallowed the lump in her

-throat and began:</p>

-

-<p>"I'm 'bliged to you, sir, for lettin' me sleep

-an' givin' me some breakfus, an' can I tell you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>

-somethin' 'bout myself? I'm all kind o' scatter-wise."</p>

-

-<p>"And you wish some one to straighten you out?"

-he asked, benevolently.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, sir&mdash;an' I thought the best person would

-be a minister&mdash;they said you was the best here."</p>

-

-<p>Mrs. Tracy smiled in a gratified fashion, while

-'Tilda Jane went earnestly on, "I'm all mixy-maxy,

-an' I feel as if I hadn't started right. I guess I'll

-tell you jus' where I come from&mdash;I s'pose you

-know the Middle Marsden Orphan 'Sylum?"</p>

-

-<p>The minister told her that he had heard of it.

-He did not tell her that he had heard it was one of

-the few badly managed institutions for orphans in

-the State, that the children were kept strictly, fed

-poorly, and were rapidly "institutionalised" while

-under the care of uneducated, ignorant women, who

-were only partially supervised by a vacillating board

-of lady managers.</p>

-

-<p>"Well, I was riz there," continued 'Tilda Jane,

-"rizzed mostly in trouble, but still I was riz, an'

-the ladies paid for me, an' I didn't take that into

-'count when I run away."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"So you ran away," he said, encouragingly.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, sir, 'count o' this dog, I said," and she

-pointed to Gippie, "but I guess inside o' me, 'twas

-as much for myself. I didn't like the 'sylum, I

-wanted to run away, even when there was no talk

-o' the dog, an' I'll tell you what happened," and

-while the minister and his wife courteously listened,

-she gave a full and entire account of her wanderings

-during the time that she had been absent from the

-asylum. She told them of Hank Dillson, of her

-sojourn at Vanceboro, and her experience with the

-Lucases, and finally her story brought her down to

-the events of the day before.</p>

-

-<p>"When that ole man keeled over my dog," she

-said, brokenly, "that dog as had saved my life, I

-wanted murder. I wished something would strike

-him dead. But he didn't fall dead, an' then I

-thought it was time for me to chip in an' do

-somethin'. I took them crutches as he can't

-move without, an' I burnt 'em most up&mdash;all but

-a little bit at the top with the gold writin', 'cause

-he sits an' gazes at it, an' I guess sets store

-by it."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"You burnt Hobart Dillson's crutches!" exclaimed

-Mrs. Tracy, in surprise.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, ma'am&mdash;'cause he'd killed my dog."</p>

-

-<p>"I wonder he had not struck you down," said the

-lady, with a shudder. "He is said to be a man

-with a very violent temper."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane sprang up, her face as white as a

-sheet. "I mos' forgot. I s'pose he's sittin' there

-this minute. He can't move without 'em, an' nobody'll

-go near him. Now, sir,"&mdash;and she turned

-in desperate haste to the little, dark, silent man,&mdash;"tell

-me quick what I ought to do."</p>

-

-<p>"You are a child with a conscience," he said,

-gravely; "you have been turning the matter over

-in your own mind. What conclusion have you

-reached?"</p>

-

-<p>"Go on," said the parrot, hoarsely, and between

-intervals of climbing by means of bill and claw to

-the top of a chair, "go on, and don't croak. Don't

-cr-r-r-r-oak!"</p>

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-<a name="p235" id="p235"></a>

-<img src="images/p235.jpg" width="550" alt="" />

-<div class="caption">"'I'VE LED ANOTHER DOG ASTRAY, AN' NOW HE'S DEAD!'"</div>

-<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>

-</div>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane turned her solemn face toward the

-bird. "Walkin' to an' fro las' night, a verse o'

-Scripter kep' comin' to me, 'Children, obey your

-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>parents in the Lord&mdash;' Now, I ain't got any parents,

-but I had lady-boards. I oughtn't to 'a' run away. I

-ought to have give up the dog, an' trusted. I ought

-to 'a' begged them to get me a home. I ought to 'a'

-been a better girl. Then I might 'a' been 'dopted.

-Ever sence I've run away, there's been trouble&mdash;trouble,

-trouble, nothin' but trouble. I've led another

-dog astray, an' now he's dead!"</p>

-

-<p>Mr. and Mrs. Tracy exchanged a pitying glance.

-The child was intensely in earnest. Her black eyes

-were bent absently on the parrot who had fallen prey

-to an immense curiosity with regard to Gippie, and

-having surveyed him from the back of the chair

-and the mantel, and finding him harmless, was now

-walking cautiously around him as he lay on the

-hearth-rug. Presently, emboldened by his silence,

-she took the end of his tail in her beak. He did

-not move, and she gently pinched it.</p>

-

-<p>There was a squeal, a rush, and a discomfited

-parrot minus three tail feathers flying to her master's

-shoulder.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, "my, my! What a

-fuss&mdash;what a fuss!"</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>Very little attention was paid her. Her master

-and mistress were taken up with the youthful

-owner of the dog, but Mr. Tracy mechanically

-stroked the bird as he put another question to

-'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>"And what do you propose to do?"</p>

-

-<p>"I think I ought to go back," she said, earnestly.

-"I ought to say I'm sorry. I ought to say I'll do

-better."</p>

-

-<p>"Go back&mdash;where?" asked Mrs. Tracy, eagerly.</p>

-

-<p>"First to the ole man. I ought to be civil to

-him. I ought to talk, an' not be mum like an

-oyster. I ought to ask him if he wants me to go

-'way. I ought to write the lady-boards an' tell 'em

-where I be. I ought to say I'll go back."</p>

-

-<p>"Do you wish to go back?" asked Mr. Tracy.</p>

-

-<p>A shiver passed over 'Tilda Jane's slight frame,

-but she spoke up bravely. "I ain't a-goin' to think

-o' that, sir. I've got to do what's right."</p>

-

-<p>"And what about your dog?"</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, Gippie ain't in it at all," she said, with

-animation. "He don't need to go. I guess I'll

-find some nice home for him with somebody as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>

-likes animiles," and a shrewd and melancholy smile

-hovered about her tense lips as she gazed at her

-host and hostess.</p>

-

-<p>"Poor little girl," said Mrs. Tracy, sympathetically;

-"we will take your dog and you, too. You

-shall not go back&mdash;you shall live with us."</p>

-

-<p>As she spoke, her big blue eyes filled with tears,

-and she laid a caressing hand on 'Tilda Jane's

-shoulder.</p>

-

-<p>"Please don't do that, ma'am," said the little

-girl, vehemently, and slipping her shoulder from

-under the embracing hand. "Please don't do anything

-homey to me. Treat me as if I was a real

-orphan."</p>

-

-<p>"A real orphan," repeated Mrs. Tracy, in slight

-bewilderment.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, I want a home," cried the little girl, clenching

-her hands, and raising her face to the ceiling.

-"I want some one to talk to me as if I had

-blue eyes and curly hair. I want a little rocking-chair

-an' a fire. I don't want to mind bells, an'

-run with a crowd o' orphans, but it ain't the

-will o' Providence. I've got to give up," and her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>

-hands sank to her sides, and her head fell on her

-breast.</p>

-

-<p>Mrs. Tracy bit her lip, and pressed her hands

-together.</p>

-

-<p>"Will you stay to dinner with us, my dear?" said

-Mr. Tracy, softly. "I will take you into my study

-where there is a fire and a rocking-chair, and you

-shall see some curiosities that I picked up in Palestine."</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, no, sir, I must go," and she again became

-animated. "That ole man&mdash;I mus' see him. Tell

-me, sir, jus' what I am to do. I've been doin' all

-the talkin', an' I wanted to hear you. I guess I'm

-crazy," and she pressed her hands nervously over

-her ears.</p>

-

-<p>She was in a strange state of nervous exaltation

-that was the natural reaction from her terrible dejection

-of the evening before. She had decided to

-make a martyr of herself&mdash;a willing martyr, and

-Mr. Tracy would not detain her.</p>

-

-<p>"Go back to Mr. Dillson's, my dear; you have

-mapped out your own course. I do not need to

-advise you. Your conscience has spoken, and you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>

-are listening to its voice. Go, and God bless you.

-You shall hear from us."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane was about to rush away, but Mrs.

-Tracy detained her. "Wait an instant. I have

-something for you," and she hurried from the room.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XX.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">WAITING.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>Mr. Dillson had not passed a pleasant night.

-In the first place he had not been able to move for

-a long time after 'Tilda Jane's departure. For half

-an hour he had sat, hoping that she would return,

-or that some one would call on some errand. Without

-his crutches he was helpless.</p>

-

-<p>Strange to say, he was not in a rage with her.

-Indeed, he had never felt more kindly disposed

-toward her, and he certainly had never so longed

-for a sight of her little thin, ungraceful figure.

-Just at the moment of the burning of the crutches

-he could have felled her to the earth, but after it

-was an accomplished fact his lack of resentment

-was a marvel even to himself. Possibly it was

-because she had saved the gold plate. Possibly&mdash;as

-minute after minute went by&mdash;it was because a

-peculiar fear drove all vengeance from his mind.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>He had not liked the look in her eyes when she

-went out. Suppose she should make way with herself?

-Suppose she should jump into a hole in the

-ice, or throw herself in front of a locomotive, or do

-any other of the foolish things that desperate and

-maddened people were in the habit of doing? What

-would then be his position? Not an enviable one,

-by any means. He was partly&mdash;not wholly, for he

-had some shreds of vanity left&mdash;aware of his neighbours'

-opinion respecting himself. There was an

-ugly word they might connect with his name&mdash;and

-he glowered over the fire, and felt sufficiently uncomfortable

-until a strange and marvellous thing

-happened.</p>

-

-<p>The kitchen was in an ell of the house, and, by

-hitching his chair around, he could command a view

-from the side window of a slice of the garden in

-front, and also of a narrow strip of the road before

-the house. He would watch this strip, and if a

-passer-by appeared, would hail him or her, and beg

-to have a new pair of crutches ordered from the

-town.</p>

-

-<p>It was while he was sitting in the gathering gloom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>

-watching this bit of highway, that the marvellous

-thing happened. Just by the corner of the house

-was a black patch on the snow,&mdash;the hind legs and

-tail of the poor deceased Poacher. The fore part of

-the body was beyond his vision. Dillson had no

-particular dislike for the spectacle. A dead dog was

-a more pleasant sight than a living one to him, and

-he was just wondering whom he would get to remove

-the animal, when he imagined that he saw the

-tail move.</p>

-

-<p>No, it was only his imperfect vision, and he rubbed

-his eyes and moistened his glasses. Now the tail

-was no longer there&mdash;the hind legs were no longer

-there. Had some one come up the front walk and

-drawn the creature away?</p>

-

-<p>He pressed his face close against the window-pane.

-No&mdash;there was the dog himself on his feet and

-walking about&mdash;first in a staggering fashion, then

-more correctly.</p>

-

-<p>The old man eagerly raised the window. If the

-girl lived, and was going about saying that he

-had killed her dog, here was proof positive that

-he had not; and smacking his lips, and making a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>

-clicking sound with his tongue, he tried to attract

-the resuscitated Poacher's attention. He must

-capture the animal and keep him.</p>

-

-<p>It was years since he had called a dog&mdash;not since

-he was a young man and had gone hunting on the

-marshes below the town.</p>

-

-<p>"Here, dog, dog!" he said, impatiently; "good

-dog!"</p>

-

-<p>Poacher gravely advanced to the window and

-stood below him.</p>

-

-<p>"Good dog," repeated the old man. "Hi&mdash;jump

-in," and he held the window higher.</p>

-

-<p>The dog would not jump while the enemy was

-there. He would not have jumped at all, if he had

-been at the back door, for he would have smelled his

-mistress's tracks and gone after her. Now he suspected

-that she was in the house.</p>

-

-<p>Though every movement gave him agony, the old

-man hobbled away from the window. The dog

-sprang in, and Dillson clapped the sash down. He

-had the animal now.</p>

-

-<p>Poacher was running around the room, sniffing

-vigorously. He stood on his hind legs and smelled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>

-at the peg where the hat and tippet had hung.

-Then he ran to the wood-shed door.</p>

-

-<p>With a most unusual exertion of strength, the old

-man rose, pushed the chair before him, and breathing

-hard, and resting heavily on it, opened the cellar

-door. He would shut the dog down there out of

-sight, and where he could not run out if any one

-came in.</p>

-

-<p>"She's down there, dog," he said, and the boldness

-with which he told the story so impressed

-Poacher, that after one inquiring glance which

-convinced him that his enemy's attitude had

-changed from that of a murderous to a semi-friendly

-one, he dashed down the steps into the

-cold cellar.</p>

-

-<p>Dillson slammed the door, and chuckled. Now

-to get back to the window. He tried to hitch his

-chair along, but he was weak and must rest. He

-sat for a few minutes, and when the few minutes

-were over, he found that his muscles had stiffened.

-He could not move.</p>

-

-<p>He sat a little longer. The fire went out, and

-the room got cold. He was so far from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>

-window that he doubted if any one could hear him

-if he shouted.</p>

-

-<p>He lifted up his voice to try. He was as hoarse

-as a crow. He had a cold, and it was every

-minute getting worse. If he had the dog from

-the cellar, he might tie something to him and

-frighten him so that he would go dashing through

-a window. He began to feel that if the little girl

-did not return, he might sit there till he died.</p>

-

-<p>His case was not desperate yet, however. He

-waited and waited. The night came and went,

-and another morning dawned, and the weather

-changed outside, until a stiff frost began to transform

-the thaw into a return of winter weather&mdash;and

-still he waited, but the little girl did not

-come.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XXI.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">THE TIGER BECOMES A LAMB.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>Gippie was tired out, and in an execrable temper.

-He had had to trot home all the way from the

-Tracys, for his mistress was carrying a long bundle

-under one arm, and a good-sized basket on the

-other. And now that she was in sight of the house,

-she was fairly running, and he could scarcely keep

-up with her.</p>

-

-<p>Her head was turned far round, she was looking

-over her shoulder in the direction away from

-the front of the house, and yet she went right

-to the spot where the unfortunate Poacher had

-fallen.</p>

-

-<p>Gippie knew very well what all her emotion was

-about. Like some deaf and partly blind human

-beings, he was more aware of happenings than

-people supposed. Poacher was dead, and he was

-not sorry for it, for he had been desperately jeal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>ous

-of him, and limping up to his mistress he

-impatiently whined to claim recognition.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, Gippie, what shall I do?" she moaned.

-"What shall I do? He was so good and gentle.

-I can't go in&mdash;I can't go in."</p>

-

-<p>She was on her knees on the snow. Her hands

-were wandering over the depression where Poacher

-had lain. Her face was so pale and unhappy, that

-even Gippie's selfish heart was touched, and standing

-on his hind legs to reach her shoulder, he

-tenderly licked her right ear inside and out, until

-she brushed him aside with a half laugh, half sob,

-and a murmured, "You tickle my ear, Gippie."</p>

-

-<p>She got up and moved slowly toward the back

-door, while the dog trotted along nimbly on his three

-legs after her. Why, what a vault! and Gippie

-shivered and turned his short-sighted eyes in the

-direction of the kitchen stove. It was black and

-cold, and the old man, sitting in the draughtiest corner

-of the room, right by the cellar door, was a dull,

-mottled purple. He did not speak when the door

-opened. He was morose and silent, and his whole

-appearance was that of a man in extreme distress.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>Gippie was an excellent hater, and it did him

-good to see the old man suffer. However, he did

-not care to suffer with him, and squealing dismally,

-he planted himself near the delinquent stove.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane's listlessness and painful depression

-were gone. With a quick exclamation, she had

-dropped her basket and bundle, and had sprung to

-the kindling box.</p>

-

-<p>There was nothing in it. She rushed to the

-wood-shed, came back with a handful of sticks and

-paper, and by dint of extra quick movements had,

-in an astonishingly short space of time, a good fire

-roaring up the chimney.</p>

-

-<p>Then she turned to the old man, who was still

-sitting in stony silence. "I'm 'fraid you're most

-froze, sir. Can't you come nigher the fire?"</p>

-

-<p>Dillson's eyelids were swollen with the cold, but

-there was still room for a disagreeable twinkle to

-glimmer through. He would say nothing, however,

-and 'Tilda Jane, approaching the long, peculiar

-looking bundle, opened it, took out a pair of

-crutches, and handed them to him with a humble,

-supplicating air.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>Gippie crawled farther under the stove, and,

-lowering his head, awaited developments.</p>

-

-<p>But there was no danger of a blow from the old

-man. His hands were so benumbed that he could

-not hold the crutches. They slipped to the floor

-with a crash, and, opening his purple lips, he ejaculated

-the word, "Tea!"</p>

-

-<p>"Ain't you had nothin' sence I left?" inquired

-'Tilda Jane, sharply.</p>

-

-<p>Dillson shook his head.</p>

-

-<p>"You ain't been sittin' there all night?"</p>

-

-<p>He nodded his head this time.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane's face took on an expression of dismay,

-and she flew around the kitchen.</p>

-

-<p>The warm atmosphere was now enwrapping the

-old man in a most agreeable manner, and when

-'Tilda Jane handed him the big cup, he grunted

-something between an expression of thanks and a

-desire that she should hold it to his lips.</p>

-

-<p>While he greedily drank the hot liquid, 'Tilda

-Jane, with a queer choking in her throat, addressed

-broken remarks to him. "I didn't know, sir&mdash;I

-was hopin' some one would come in&mdash;I was mos'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>

-crazy 'bout the dog&mdash;I forgot all 'bout you till

-jus' now."</p>

-

-<p>"More," he said, shortly, when 'Tilda Jane put

-the cup down.</p>

-

-<p>She refilled it, then, as his hands began to get

-supple and he could manipulate it himself, she

-uncovered the basket Mrs. Tracy had given her.</p>

-

-<p>"I didn't look in before," she exclaimed. "Oh,

-the beauty eggs!" and she carefully unrolled a

-napkin, "an' the white rolls, an' Washington cake,

-an' a meat pie, an' a tart&mdash;I say, grampa, we'll

-have a good dinner!"</p>

-

-<p>The old man looked strangely at her, but she

-went on unheedingly: "They're jus' boss people.

-I'm glad I went an' talked to 'em&mdash;I'm sorry I was

-so ugly to you, grampa, an' if you don't want me,

-I guess I'd better go 'way."</p>

-

-<p>She spoke quite humbly and naturally, and, as she

-did so, she raised her head and glanced in Dillson's

-direction.</p>

-

-<p>He made no response, and she went on: "I've

-been a very bad little girl, but I'm goin' to be better,

-an' you jus' tell me what you want me to do,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>

-grampa, an' I'll do it, an' if you don't want to

-talk, you jus' write it. I know you're a big

-man, an' mebbe you don't want to talk to a

-little girl like me, but I'll not lay it up agin you.

-You jus' do what you want, an' I'm not tryin'

-to come round you, 'cause I 'spect you'll send

-me off quicker'n a flash so soon as you get some

-one else."</p>

-

-<p>Her lips were trembling, and her face was bright

-and expectant, but the old man gave her no satisfaction.</p>

-

-<p>"Hand me some of that pie," he said, unexpectedly.</p>

-

-<p>"Can you wait till I set the table an' make it look

-real pretty, grampa?" she said, coaxingly.</p>

-

-<p>Dillson was nearly starved, and, without a word,

-held out his hand in a commanding fashion.</p>

-

-<p>"All right, grampa," she said, gently, and she

-handed him a generous slice; "anythin' you like.

-This is your house. It ain't mine."</p>

-

-<p>Dillson ate his pie, watching her meanwhile out

-of a corner of his eye.</p>

-

-<p>"Bread and meat," he said when he had finished.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane supplied this want, and earnestly

-watched these viands going the way of the pie.</p>

-

-<p>"More tea," he said, when they were gone.</p>

-

-<p>When he had eaten and drunk to an alarming

-extent, he pointed to the crutches. "Where did

-you get them?"</p>

-

-<p>"I saw 'em in a window, grampa,&mdash;a great big

-druggist's window,&mdash;an' I went in an' said to the

-man, 'Can you trust me for 'em? I'll pay you, sure

-pop, if you'll gimme time. I'm goin' to be a good

-girl now, an' never tell no more lies nor steal, nor

-do anythin' bad,' but he jus' said ever so grumpy,

-'This is a cast down, no credit system store,' but I

-wasn't cas' down, an' I said, 'S'pose you was a lame

-man, an' a bad little girl burnt up your crutches,

-how would you feel? 'Then he looked kind o'

-solemn, an' said, 'Whose crutches was burnt up?'

-An' I said, 'Mr. Hobart Dillson's crutches,' an' he

-said, 'What girl burnt 'em?' I said, 'A little girl

-that don't know where to look.' Then he asked

-what you said when I burnt your crutches, an' I

-said you didn't say much, you jus' cussed. Then

-he turned his face round to the bottles, an' when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>

-he looked out it was red, an' he was shakin' all over

-like as if he's been cryin', an' he jus' pointed to the

-crutches an' said, 'Take 'em, an' welcome.'"</p>

-

-<p>Dillson's head dropped on his breast. This girl

-had evidently gone to Peter Jerret's store,&mdash;Peter

-Jerret who had owed him a grudge ever since the

-day he went in and denounced him before a store full

-of customers for overcharging him for prescriptions.

-Peter had actually dared to pity him&mdash;Hobart Dillson,

-and so had let the girl have the crutches, not

-caring whether he ever got paid or not. Well, he

-hadn't thought Peter would ever pity him, and, drawing

-his crutches toward him, Dillson cautiously lifted

-himself, and tried his weight upon them.</p>

-

-<p>Yes, he could walk, he would go to bed, and think

-over Peter's conduct. It affected him, but he must not

-look soft. "Open my door," he said to 'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>While she flew to obey his command, the old

-man heard a low whine near him, and remembered

-Poacher. The dog had recognised the girl's voice,

-and would soon make himself known. He might as

-well have the credit of his discovery. If she had

-come home sulky he would have allowed her to find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>

-the dog for herself, but she was meek and biddable,

-and she had also secretly pleased him by addressing

-him as "grampa," in tones of such respect and

-affection. She had improved decidedly, and he exclaimed,

-peremptorily, "Here, you!"</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane ran out from the bedroom, where she

-was turning down the icy sheets in the bed so that

-the chill might be taken from them.</p>

-

-<p>"Open this door," ordered the old man.</p>

-

-<p>With a wondering air 'Tilda Jane threw back the

-cellar door. Then she gave a joyful scream.</p>

-

-<p>There, standing on the top step, cold and shivering,

-half famished, but alive and well, was her

-beloved Poacher.</p>

-

-<p>She tried to catch him around the neck, but he

-flew past her into the kitchen, came back like a shot,

-and, dashing up her back, licked her neck, sprang

-into the air, and again racing round and round the

-room, brought on what she herself would call a

-"combobberation."</p>

-

-<p>The old man was so near, that Poacher, in his wild

-gyrations to and fro, swept one of his crutches from

-him. 'Tilda Jane, even in the midst of her aston<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>ished

-and ecstatic glee, perceived this, and stooped

-down to recover the lost article, but she could not

-lay her hand on it, for the excited dog, with his head

-in the air and his tongue hanging out, made repeated

-dashes at her, beside her, behind her,&mdash;he was

-everywhere that she was. And Gippie was after

-him, for, snorting with rage and mortification at the

-resuscitation of his rival, he had bounded from

-under the stove, and, with his maimed tail wagging

-excitedly in the air, was biting, snapping, growling

-at Poacher's heels, nipping him fiercely, if by chance

-he paused a second to rest.</p>

-

-<p>The noise and confusion were overcoming, and the

-old man, holding firmly to his remaining crutch, and

-grasping the back of a chair, grimly surveyed the

-scene. Finally 'Tilda Jane secured the crutch, and,

-pantingly brushing back her dishevelled hair, she

-passed it to him across the dogs' backs.</p>

-

-<p>Poacher had now sunk on the floor at her feet,

-while Gippie was exerting his feeble strength in

-trying to crowd him away from 'Tilda Jane's stout

-shoes.</p>

-

-<p>"Forgive us, grampa, dear grampa," she said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>

-beseechingly; "but it's such a joyful 'casion&mdash;such

-a 'casion. My heart never felt so big in my life.

-It's all swolled up. Oh, ain't you sweet to prepare

-this s'prise for me. When I come back jus' now I

-thought my pet was buried in the cold ground&mdash;oh,

-I jus' love you!" and, climbing over the quarrelling

-dogs, she seized the bunch of knuckles nearest

-her, and kissed them fervently.</p>

-

-<p>The old man slowly uncurled his fist and looked

-at it. How many years was it since any one had

-kissed him?</p>

-

-<p>He put the crutch under his arm, and turned

-toward the bedroom.</p>

-

-<p>"Good night, grampa, dear grampa," floated sweetly

-after him. The girl was down on the floor with her

-dogs, her arm was around the hound's black neck, the

-three-legged atrocity was pressed to her side. She

-was happy, yes, happy&mdash;"as happy as a fool," he

-grumbled to himself. Nothing to annoy her, nothing

-to trouble her. Wait till she got older, and life's

-worries began to crowd around her, and with an impatient

-groan the old man flung himself down on the

-chair by his bed.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XXII.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">A TROUBLED MIND.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane and grampa were sitting out in front

-of the house. The spring months had passed, the

-apple-trees had blossomed, and the young apples had

-formed. With the changing season had come happier

-days for 'Tilda Jane. Little by little, as the

-weeks slipped by, a better understanding had arisen

-between her and "grampa."</p>

-

-<p>He still gave way occasionally to terrible fits of

-temper and sullenness, but 'Tilda Jane understood

-him better now, and was quick to soothe and pacify

-him, or, if he was unmanageable, to keep out of his

-presence until he recovered.</p>

-

-<p>Just now he was in an unusually amiable frame

-of mind,&mdash;a frame of mind so accommodating that it

-boded storms in the near future. However, 'Tilda

-Jane did not care. She accepted the present peace

-and was thankful.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>She had dragged out his big rocking-chair for him

-to sit on, and had given him an evening paper to

-read, while she herself was curled up on her

-favourite seat on the door-step.</p>

-

-<p>The old man was not inclined to read his paper,

-and dropping it on his knees he took off his glasses,

-put them in his pocket, and let his eyes wander to

-the apple-trees.</p>

-

-<p>The river was flowing blue and open now, birds

-were singing, and all things betokened a fine

-summer.</p>

-

-<p>"When you hear those robins sing, don't it feel

-as if there was a little string squeakin' inside o'

-you?" said 'Tilda Jane, gleefully.</p>

-

-<p>Dillson made no reply, and seeing that he was in

-no mood for a sympathetic comparison of emotions, she

-diplomatically started another topic of conversation.</p>

-

-<p>"I guess the birds make me glad, 'cause I'm so

-happy you let me bide with you, grampa&mdash;an'

-you've been so noble an' generous to lend me money

-to pay for the matron's shawl I took for Gippie.

-An' it was so kind in the lady-boards to write back

-that they was glad to get rid of me."</p>

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-<a name="p258" id="p258"></a>

-<img src="images/p258.jpg" width="650" alt="" />

-<div class="caption">"'THEY WAS GLAD TO GET RID OF ME.'"</div>

-<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>

-</div>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>The old man laughed a toothless laugh at her

-whimsical view of the lady-boards' reply, but said

-nothing.</p>

-

-<p>"I ain't told you much of my travels yet,

-grampa," she said, agreeably. "I've been so busy

-house-cleanin'. I guess you'd like to hear about

-Vanceboro."</p>

-

-<p>The old man did not display any particular interest

-in Vanceboro, but having assured herself by a swift

-examination of his features that the subject was not

-disagreeable to him, she went on, "It's a great ole

-place. I'd like you to go there sometime, grampa.

-Such goings-on with them furriners! I saw one

-woman walkin' up and down wringin' her hands an'

-cryin' 'cause they wouldn't let her bring her ole

-mother into this nation."</p>

-

-<p>She waited for her hearer to ask why the mother

-was forbidden to come where the daughter could

-enter, but he did not do so, and she continued,

-"She was a poor woman from Boston, an' her

-mother was a poor woman from Canada, an' they

-said if she come in 'twould be two poor women

-together, an' first thing they knowed they'd be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>

-both in the poorhouse. So her mother had to go

-back to Canada."</p>

-

-<p>Dillson looked entirely uninterested in the case of

-the would-be immigrant, so, after a farewell announcement

-that sometimes as many as two hundred

-"furriners" went through Vanceboro in a single

-day, 'Tilda Jane passed on to another branch of

-her subject.</p>

-

-<p>"It's a reg'lar jubilee, grampa, when the trains

-come in&mdash;a boy runnin' to a big bell an' ringin' it,

-an' people pourin' into the lunch-room, an' jus'

-chasin' the food into their mouths an' lookin' hunted-like,

-as if there was somethin' after them, an' some

-don't take time to go to the tables. They step up

-to the lunch-counter, which is shaped jus' like a

-moon when it ain't full. There's glass dishes on it,

-with oranges, an' bananas, an' cakes an' pies, an'

-sangwiches, an' a funny machine where you drop

-a nickel in a crack, an' if the hand points to five, or

-ten or fifteen, you get twenty-five cents' worth of

-candy, an' if you don't get candy you get good

-advice like as, 'You've been keepin' bad comp'ny,

-quit it or you will never prosper,' or 'You've run<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>

-away from home, an' the perlice is on your track,'

-or 'Smokin is a bad thing for your health.'"</p>

-

-<p>Grampa was not very much interested, so 'Tilda

-Jane tried something more startling.</p>

-

-<p>"There's great talk of railroad accidents there.

-Men get killed awful. I heard a table-girl ask a

-brakeman how he could go on a train for fear he'd

-be hurt, an' he said he dassent stop to think, he had

-to take chances. I used to see 'em runnin' like

-cats on top o' them cars, slippery with snow an' ice.

-If you're inside one o' them cars, grampa, an' there's

-goin' to be a turnover, jus' grip hard on somethin'

-steady, 'cause then you're not so apt to get killed.

-I heard a conductor say that."</p>

-

-<p>Grampa's travelling days were over, yet it pleased

-him to be talked to as if he were still a strong and

-active man, and he said, shortly, "I'm not likely to

-be going far from home."</p>

-

-<p>"You don't know, grampa," she said, soothingly.

-"Some day when you get nice and well, I'd like to travel

-with you, but first you must be very quiet like one of

-Job's mice, an' not have anythin' gnawin' at you&mdash;I

-guess you've had lots of plague times in your life."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>Grampa looked unheedingly beyond her to the

-apple-trees.</p>

-

-<p>Her face was shrewd and puckered, and she was

-surveying him like a cunning little cat.</p>

-

-<p>"Sometimes, grampa, I hear you fussin' in your

-sleep&mdash;moanin' an' cryin' like a poor dog what's lost

-her pups."</p>

-

-<p>The old man turned and looked at her sharply.</p>

-

-<p>She went on boldly, "Can I lie in my soft,

-warm bed up-stairs an' you a-sufferin'? No, I

-creepy, creepy down, to see if I can do anythin'."</p>

-

-<p>"Don't you do that again," said the old man, his

-face becoming red. "You stay in your bed at

-night."</p>

-

-<p>"All right, grampa," she said, meekly, "but I've

-heard things already."</p>

-

-<p>"Things&mdash;what things?" he asked, sharply.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane folded together the apron she was

-hemming, and getting up, opened a door of retreat

-behind her into the house.</p>

-

-<p>"About losin' that money," she said, sadly. She

-paused, and as he neither spoke or made any motion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>

-to throw a crutch at her, she proceeded, "Grampa,

-I jus' know it's like a little pain hawk pickin' at

-your skin."</p>

-

-<p>Grampa was still silent, painfully so, and she

-hurried on, "You haven't got much money, an' you

-have me an' the dogs to take care of. Now,

-grampa, won't you let me get some work to do

-outside to help us?" and she screwed her features

-into their most persuasive appearance.</p>

-

-<p>Grampa had his head turned away over his shoulder,

-and when he after a long time twisted it around,

-'Tilda Jane rose, and prudently and swiftly retired

-into the hall.</p>

-

-<p>He must be in a rage. His face was fiery, and

-he was making a choking, spluttering sound in his

-throat,&mdash;a sound that only came from him in moments

-of agitation.</p>

-

-<p>"Don't you&mdash;don't you," he stammered, "spy on

-me again, and bother your young head about things

-you know nothing of. Do you hear?" and he

-accentuated his remarks by a tap of his crutch on

-the door-step. "I've had a way all my life of talking

-over things in my sleep. And you've got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>

-enough to do at home. I'll not have you working

-for other people."</p>

-

-<p>"All right, grampa," said 'Tilda Jane, submissively,

-and she made a step toward him. She had

-planned to fly through the hall to his bedroom, and

-remove his wash bowl and pitcher, for since she had

-come to the cottage he had broken several in his

-fits of rage.</p>

-

-<p>But grampa was not angry in a violent way this

-time. "He's more bothered than mad," she murmured,

-dispiritedly, and she drew aside to allow him

-to pass by her into the house.</p>

-

-<p>"The dew's falling," he muttered, as he went by

-her. "I'll go sit in the kitchen a spell."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane went mournfully to sit under the trees

-on a wooden bench that grampa had had made for

-her. The two dogs curled themselves up at her

-feet, and with a sigh she picked up a writing pad

-beside her. It was almost too dark to see the lines,

-but she must finish a letter that she had begun to

-write to Hank.</p>

-

-<p>His former custom had been to scratch a line to

-his father once in six months to say he was alive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>

-and well, but since 'Tilda Jane's arrival he had

-written every week, and had addressed his letters

-to her.</p>

-

-<p>It was a great pleasure to the little girl to get

-these letters, and an equal pleasure to answer them.

-She related to him every occurrence of her daily

-life, all details of his father's conduct except disagreeable

-ones, and her letters always ended with

-an urgent request that he would come and visit

-them.</p>

-

-<p>This evening she had as usual made an appeal at

-the end of her letter. "Dear Mr. Hank, it seems a

-long time sence the snow was on the ground. I

-guess if you knew how much we want to see you

-you'd come hurryin' home. The dogs send love,

-Gippie specially 'cause he knows you. Poacher says

-he'd be happy to make your acquaintance&mdash;and,

-Mr. Hank, your father's kind of worried about

-somethin'. I guess he'd like to see you."</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XXIII.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">AN UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>While 'Tilda Jane wrote, Poacher suddenly made

-a stealthy movement, and Gippie, deaf as he was,

-had enough of the dog spirit left in him to know

-that some one was coming, and to elevate the tiny

-V-shaped flaps over his ears.</p>

-

-<p>The gate clicked, there was a rustling along the

-ribbon-grass bordering the narrow path, and then

-'Tilda Jane's writing-pad fell to the ground, and she

-sprang up with a delighted scream.</p>

-

-<p>For peering forward in the gathering gloom, she

-discovered Hank, the long-absent Hank, moving

-heavily and awkwardly up the path toward her.</p>

-

-<p>He had grown thin; his clothes hung loosely on

-him, and he was pale and worried in appearance, but

-'Tilda Jane did not criticise him. He was the

-person who had most helped her in her search for

-a home, and, springing toward him, she caught his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>

-arm and ejaculated: "Oh, Hank! Mr. Hank&mdash;is

-it truly you I'm pinchin', or is it a ghost?"</p>

-

-<p>He smiled faintly, and, in return, pinched her

-cheek. "I ain't a ghost yet, though 'pon my word

-I didn't know but what I'd soon be one." As

-he spoke, he threw himself wearily on the seat.

-"Well, 'Tilda, how does Ciscasset treat you? Coronation!

-You're getting fat," and he scanned her

-in satisfaction. "I wouldn't know you for the little

-runaway that held me up last March out at

-Marsden."</p>

-

-<p>"I guess I'm gettin' fat 'cause I'm peaceful in

-my mind," said 'Tilda Jane, demurely; "I don't

-have no one to fight. I'm jus' havin' the softest

-time!"</p>

-

-<p>"So father really treats you well?"</p>

-

-<p>"Of course&mdash;don't I write you? He's jus' as

-sweet as a peach. He lets me wash, an' scrub, an'

-cook, an' never says a word excep' not to work too

-hard, an' if he wants to be jus' a little bit cranky,

-jus' a teeny little bit, he goes in his room an' shuts

-the door till the bad spirit gets out of him."</p>

-

-<p>"Did he ever hurt you?"</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"No, he never struck me&mdash;he usen't to like the

-dogs."</p>

-

-<p>Hank had never been told of Poacher's adventure,

-but his attention wandered to the dog, and he

-absently stroked his head.</p>

-

-<p>"You've done the old man a lot of good," he said

-at last.</p>

-

-<p>"I&mdash;no, sir," said 'Tilda Jane, earnestly. "I

-guess it's the dogs. But he wants more good done

-to him. He's in a regular slouch of despond sometimes,

-Mr. Hank."</p>

-

-<p>"Is he?" said the young man, listlessly; "what's

-he desponding about?"</p>

-

-<p>"About money, Mr. Hank. He lost some in

-the street, and never got it back&mdash;then it costs

-something to keep me and the dogs. I feel

-dreadful about it. I try to eat jus' as little as

-possible, but I'm as hungry as a bear mos' all the

-time."</p>

-

-<p>Hank's attention was aroused. "You must not

-stent yourself, sissy. This is too bad. I'm to

-blame. I've been intending to send you some

-money, but I've had a run of bad luck."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>His face was so disturbed that 'Tilda Jane made

-haste to change the subject.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, I'm so worked up to see you&mdash;I'm perfectly

-'tossicated. I feel jus' like the teakettle

-afore it boils, an' that 'minds me&mdash;I mus' go set it

-on. <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: You mus' he">You mus' be</ins> starvin'."</p>

-

-<p>"No, I ain't hungry; I haven't had an appetite

-for a week. How much did father lose?"</p>

-

-<p>"Sixty dollars," said the little girl, reluctantly.</p>

-

-<p>Hank relapsed into silence after this information.

-He was evidently not inclined to talk, but 'Tilda

-Jane was brimful of questions, and presently burst

-out with one of them.</p>

-

-<p>"Mr. Hank, what did you do with that beauty

-horse of yours?"</p>

-

-<p>"Had to sell it," he said, bitterly. "I've lost

-everything I had. Those farmers are all against me.

-Every potato top among them. I'm played out in

-this State. They'd like to jail me if they could."</p>

-

-<p>"Jail you," said 'Tilda Jane, resentfully, "I guess

-I'd come and pound at the door of the jail if they

-did."</p>

-

-<p>"You ought to pound," said Hank, in an ungrate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>ful

-and ungallant tone, "'cause I ain't had a mite of

-luck since you crossed my path."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane fell into blank astonishment for the

-space of one minute, then she asked, wistfully, "Do

-you mean that&mdash;did I truly bring you bad luck?"</p>

-

-<p>"You truly did," he said, peevishly. "I'm all

-broken up in my business, cleaned out, done for."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane pushed the hair back from her forehead

-with a bewildered gesture. Her benefactor

-was in trouble&mdash;perhaps ruined, and through her.

-But this was no time for reflection, the urgency

-of the case demanded action.</p>

-

-<p>"Mr. Hank," she said, softly, "warn't it a

-roguey kind of a business, anyway?"</p>

-

-<p>"All business is roguey," he said, gruffly.</p>

-

-<p>"I guess you don't mean that," she said, mildly.

-"I know you don't mean that I've done you harm.

-I guess you're jus' in trouble like the river in the

-spring, when the ice goes mixy-maxy every way."</p>

-

-<p>He smiled slightly as he rose, and looked down

-into the shrewd little face, "Well, ta, ta, 'Tilda&mdash;be

-a good girl."</p>

-

-<p>"Where are you goin'?" she asked, helplessly.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Blest if I know&mdash;somewhere to earn a living,

-to Canada, maybe."</p>

-

-<p>"Don't you go through Vanceboro," she said,

-sharply, then she pressed her hands to her head.

-"I think I'm crazy&mdash;are you Hank Dillson,

-standin' there sayin' you're goin' to leave us like

-this?"</p>

-

-<p>"Don't take on, 'Tilda," he said, consolingly.

-"I'm real sorry. I wouldn't have come out of

-my way this much if I hadn't promised you, and

-if you hadn't been such a nice little girl. Of

-course you haven't hurt me. I guess you've done

-me good, for I've had a kind of disgust with my

-business ever since you set foot in my life."</p>

-

-<p>She paid no attention to the latter part of his

-speech. "You say you've got to go, an' I can't

-keep you," she murmured, stupidly, "an' you don't

-know where you're goin'."</p>

-

-<p>"I don't know, an' I don't want to know. I'll

-loaf along till my money gives out, then I'll go to

-work."</p>

-

-<p>"Hank, do you think of Orstralia?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, I ain't got dough enough to get that far."</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Do you mean bread?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, I mean cash."</p>

-

-<p>"Why don't you stay here?"</p>

-

-<p>"Nothing to do that I know of. This is a one-horse

-place."</p>

-

-<p>"Hank, you ain't seen your father," she cried,

-catching at his coat sleeve, as he turned toward

-the gate.</p>

-

-<p>"'Pon my word, I forgot the old man. I believe

-I'll go in for sixty seconds. You say his health's

-better?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes," said 'Tilda Jane, hurriedly, "I didn't

-write you that he had a fit not long sence, and

-it seemed to straighten him out. He goes to town

-on his crutches every day, an' Gippie limps after

-him&mdash;oh, Hank Dillson, Hank Dillson, I'm mos'

-loony about this business of your goin' away."</p>

-

-<p>Hank smiled wearily at her, and went slowly

-toward the house.</p>

-

-<p>"How long can you stay?" she asked, running

-after him. "How long will you give us?"</p>

-

-<p>He took out his watch, and held it close to his

-face. "I guess I'll take the eleven o'clock train.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>

-It's nine now&mdash;I thought I'd look up some of the

-boys."</p>

-

-<p>"Give us all the time," she said, pleadingly, "stay

-with your father an' me. Oh, promise, will you?"</p>

-

-<p>"All right," he said, obligingly. "I don't care

-if I do. I'm beat out, anyway."</p>

-

-<p>"I have to go some place, but I'll be back soon,"

-she called after him, then she threw up both hands

-and pressed them over her ears,&mdash;a favourite gesture

-with her when she was doing hard thinking.</p>

-

-<p>"Mr. Waysmith or Mr. Tracy," she repeated,

-half aloud. "Mr. Waysmith or Mr. Tracy. Mr.

-Tracy," she said, at last, "he's most likely," and

-whirling on her heel, she flew down the path, out

-the gate, and into the street.</p>

-

-<p>Poacher, silent, graceful, and swift, kept close to

-her, but the battered Gippie soon gave up the

-chase with a howl of protest, and went limping

-home.</p>

-

-<p>Hank, to his surprise, had, on the whole, the

-most agreeable talk of his life with his father.

-The old man was altered. He had been, at the

-same time, the stiffest and the most demonstrative<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>

-of parents, the young man reflected. There really

-was a remarkable change for the better in him,

-and yet, at the end of three-quarters of an hour,

-Hank got up to take his leave.</p>

-

-<p>They were nearly always absent from each other,

-they had got out of the way of taking an active interest

-in each other's concerns&mdash;there was not yet

-sufficiently firm footing and enough of it to bridge

-to the shaky background of the past, and parting

-would be a mutual relief.</p>

-

-<p>Yet the old man's eyes twinkled wistfully as they

-followed his son to the door. Hank had told him

-nothing of his troubles, yet his father saw that he

-had lost flesh, that he had not a prosperous air, and

-he acutely guessed that all was not going well with

-him. He would find out from the young girl, and

-with a sigh he settled back in his chair.</p>

-

-<p>"I'll try to come home soon again, father," said

-Hank, dispiritedly, as he looked over his shoulder

-before closing the bedroom door, and he was just

-shrugging his shoulders at the promise, when something

-dark and panting caught at him in the unlighted

-kitchen, and made him jump.</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XXIV.</a><br />

-

-<span class="small">A FRIEND IN NEED.</span></h2>

-

-

-<p>It was 'Tilda Jane, breathing like a race-horse.</p>

-

-<p>"What's up with you, sissy?" he asked.</p>

-

-<p>She could not speak for a few seconds, then she

-gasped with difficulty, "Hank, dear old Hank, he's

-in there&mdash;the loveliest man&mdash;he's always ready to

-do a turn for any one&mdash;go in&mdash;tell him your business.

-I've said a little, mind what he tells you, an'

-you'll get on. He's helped lots of people. He was

-in the midst of a dinner party. He's so good&mdash;he

-jus' left it an' come. Go&mdash;" and she gave him a

-gentle push and sent him into the parlour, where he

-blinked his eyes alternately at the lamp on the table,

-and at a small, dark, quiet man who sat with his hat

-on his knee.</p>

-

-<p>The small man was breathing hard, as if he, too,

-had been walking fast, but on seeing Hank, he rose

-and stood with outstretched hand.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"My name is Tracy," he said, kindly, "and I

-have come to this town since you left it, but I

-know your family."</p>

-

-<p>"I know you, too," said Hank, bluntly, "from

-her letters," and he jerked his head backward, but

-'Tilda Jane, after softly closing the door, had

-disappeared.</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Tracy sat down again, and Hank sat opposite

-him. A slight and awkward pause ensued, broken

-speedily, however, by the minister.</p>

-

-<p>"Young man, you are in trouble."</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, I am that," said Hank, gruffly.</p>

-

-<p>"State your trouble," said the minister, kindly.</p>

-

-<p>Hank hesitated an instant, then his words came

-with a rush. "You've visited creameries, sir?"</p>

-

-<p>"I have."</p>

-

-<p>"Well, there's good creameries and bad creameries.

-A few years ago, when I was casting about

-in my mind for something to do, I got in with a

-Chicago firm known as the White Elephant firm&mdash;owing

-to so many States being spotted with their

-buildings, loaded on the farmers, and costing too

-much to keep up. Being a Maine man, they sent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>

-me to my own State. I was one of their most go-ahead

-sharks, now they've fired me to fix themselves

-right with the farmers. Do you know how they

-take in a community, sir?"</p>

-

-<p>"No, I don't."</p>

-

-<p>"Well, s'pose you're a shark. You navigate

-round among the farmers, and make a smother of

-big talk about hauling in buckets full of money.

-You get a committee to visit some creamery where

-the outfit is salted to make an extra showing. You

-pay the farmers' expenses, you offer 'em a block of

-stock, and up goes the creamery in their district

-with machinery from the promoting company,

-costing two or three times over what everything

-is worth. When the whole thing's up, it'll usually

-dawn on the minds of your stockholders that

-a creamery ain't much without cows, and their

-cows ain't got enough milk to pay for the fuel

-they burn. 'Way back here fifty miles, I had

-whipped up a creamery; I had a man to run the

-machinery, but he was a simpleton. He ruined

-the separator, it had to be sent back to the shop,

-an' I got mad with him.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Then he blabbed, told everything he knew, an' a

-lot he didn't, an' the farmers stopped counting their

-cows long enough to listen. Hasty words flew

-round, about fraudulent subscriptions, vitiated transactions,

-no contracts, ruined farms, going to law&mdash;an'

-I thought it was time to skip. The firm had

-made me stop there up to this, an' as soon as I

-ran, they bounced me&mdash;I'm all played out here,

-sir. My native State bids me farewell!"</p>

-

-<p>Hank suddenly ceased speaking, his head dropped

-on his breast, yet before it did so, he shot one appealing,

-hopeful glance at his listener. Despite

-his "don't-care" tone, and off-hand manner, it was

-plainly to be seen that he felt himself in trouble, and

-knew that there was one at hand who would help

-him.</p>

-

-<p>"You've been in a poor business," observed Mr.

-Tracy, quietly. "You want to quit it?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, sir," said Hank, meekly.</p>

-

-<p>"Listen then&mdash;" and his companion in his turn

-began to speak rapidly.</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane, flying about the house, sent many an

-anxious thought to the closed parlour. What was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>

-the minister saying to Hank? Would Hank talk

-to him freely?</p>

-

-<p>"O Lord! Lord! Lord!" she cried, suddenly

-stopping and raising her clasped hands to the ceiling,

-"do make his heart soft&mdash;soft as mush, an'

-don't let him be sassy. The minister is smooth an'

-nice, an' he would stand sass, but it's awful bad for

-Hank. He's got to sober down. O Lord, make

-him solemn&mdash;jus' like an owl!"</p>

-

-<p>She dashed a tear from the corner of her eye, and

-went on with her occupation of wrapping various

-articles in a red handkerchief.</p>

-

-<p>When the parlour door opened, she ran to the

-front hall, and as Mr. Tracy passed her, she caught

-his hand and pressed it fervently.</p>

-

-<p>He said nothing, but smiling with the more than

-earthly sweetness of one who truly loved his fellow

-men, he hurried back to his deserted guests.</p>

-

-<p>Hank followed close at his heels, and as he stood

-in the hall doorway, looking already straighter and

-taller, he smiled patronisingly down at 'Tilda Jane.</p>

-

-<p>"You're a mighty fine girl, sissy, how old are you

-now?"</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>"Thirteen o'clock las' week&mdash;struck fourteen this&mdash;oh,

-what did the minister say?"</p>

-

-<p>Hank thumped his chest. "He's got me a situation,

-sissy,&mdash;a situation that means bread and butter

-for you and father, and maybe cake and jam."</p>

-

-<p>The little girl locked her hands in intense excitement.

-"Where, Hank, oh, where?"</p>

-

-<p>"Here, sissy."</p>

-

-<p>"In Ciscasset?"</p>

-

-<p>"Yes."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane suppressed a scream. "An' you can

-live at home?"</p>

-

-<p>"Well, I rather guess so."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane's pleasure was too deep for words.

-She stood gaping speechlessly at him.</p>

-

-<p>Hank, in high good humour, beamed benevolently

-on the orphan girl as she stood beside him. "What

-are you sticking your head up an down for like a

-chicken taking a drink?" he said at last.</p>

-

-<p>"Hank, I'm givin' thanks," she said, reverently,

-"givin' thanks that you've got led out of that roguey

-business."</p>

-

-<p>"I'll not get into anything of that kind again,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>

-sissy," he said, with a shamefaced air. "You may

-just be sure of that. I've had a great talk with that

-friend of yours&mdash;and sissy, I'm obliged to you."</p>

-

-<p>There was a queer break in his voice. An end

-had suddenly come to his troubles. He would now

-be in the way of earning an honest living. And it

-would be a pleasure to live with his father and this

-young girl who would look up to him and admire

-him.</p>

-

-<p>"Sissy," he said, abruptly, "where do you think

-my new berth is?"</p>

-

-<p>"I don't know&mdash;oh, tell me quick."</p>

-

-<p>"In the Waysmith lumber mill. Mr. Waysmith

-offered a place to your friend Tracy to-day for some

-young man, and I'm the young man."</p>

-

-<p>"With the Waysmiths?" murmured 'Tilda Jane,

-"where your father used to be?"</p>

-

-<p>"The same, sissy."</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane could stand no more. "O Lord, I

-thank thee!" she cried, with a burst of tears, and

-running into the kitchen, she buried her face in the

-roller towel hanging on a door.</p>

-

-<p>Hank sauntered after her, and on his way stumbled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>

-over a bundle done up in a spotted red handkerchief.

-He stooped down, picked it up, and opened it. It

-contained a few lumps of sugar, a Bible, a pair of

-socks, two handkerchiefs, half a loaf of cake, and

-fifty cents wrapped in a piece of newspaper.</p>

-

-<p>"My travelling kit," he murmured; "well, if she

-ain't the best little creature!"</p>

-

-<p>"Hello, 'Tilda!" he called out; "stop that

-whimpering, and come and tell grampa the news."</p>

-

-<p>The little girl hastily dried her face on the towel,

-and ran into the bedroom where grampa sat surveying

-them in bewilderment from the edge of his

-bed. Some time ago he had come to his room with

-the intention of undressing. His son's visit had

-upset him, and he had been sitting confusedly listening

-to the scraps of conversation he caught from

-different parts of the house.</p>

-

-<p>"Grampa, grampa!" cried 'Tilda Jane, running

-in, and excitedly waving her hands, "Hank's goin'

-to live at home with you, an' me, an' the dogs.

-We'll be a real family. Oh, ain't it lovely, ain't it

-lovely?" and catching hold of her skirts she began

-a sidling and peculiar dance about the room.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p>

-

-<p>Hank laughed till the tears came into his eyes.

-'Tilda Jane was good, but she was not graceful.

-Then his merriment over, he began to yawn, and

-'Tilda Jane, as keen of observation as ever, immediately

-espied this sign of fatigue.</p>

-

-<p>She caught up Gippie, who alone showed no pleasure

-at the prospect of having another inmate of

-the house, and danced out to the kitchen.</p>

-

-<p>"Come out, grampa dear," she called, "we'll

-all have a good supper, 'cause this is a most joyful

-'casion."</p>

-

-<p>As grampa started to limp out to the kitchen,

-Hank quietly placed himself by his side.</p>

-

-<p>The old man looked at him. "I'm not sorry

-you're going to stay," he remarked, gruffly. "They

-say there's no place like home."</p>

-

-<p>"You'd better believe that's true, father," said

-Hank, warmly; "a fellow gets sick of hotels and

-boarding-houses. We'll have some more funds now

-that I'm going to get at some decent kind of work.

-You mustn't bother your head about expenses."</p>

-

-<p>The old man sank into his chair with a sigh of

-relief. His face was working strangely. Last year<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>

-at this time he was alone and miserable in a cheerless

-house. Now his son was with him, a brisk

-young girl was flying about his kitchen, a bright fire

-burned in the stove, a fire that was not unpleasantly

-warm to his aged limbs even on this summer night.

-A white cloth covered his formerly bare and uninviting

-table; he was going to have pie, and coffee,

-and toast and cake for supper,&mdash;surely the coming

-of this orphan had been a fortunate thing for him,

-and he slowly chafed his hands as he gazed at the

-glowing bed of coals.</p>

-

-<p>Hank was following 'Tilda Jane from kitchen to

-pantry, and from pantry to kitchen.</p>

-

-<p>"You're getting to be a great housekeeper," he

-said, admiringly; "but we must not forget the

-schooling. It's a great thing to be educated. You

-can't hold your own in this world unless you know

-something. You wrote me Mrs. Tracy was teaching

-you some, didn't you?"</p>

-

-<p>'Tilda Jane paused as she filled a sugar-bowl.</p>

-

-<p>"Yes, three evenin's a week. She's a boss&mdash;I

-mean a good teacher. I learned some at the 'sylum,&mdash;no,

-the asylum, when I warn't&mdash;no, when I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>

-werent'&mdash;no, when I wasn't in the kitchen. And

-grampa talks to me some. He's a fine scholar."</p>

-

-<p>"That's good&mdash;get all you can; but three evenings

-a week ain't enough. As soon as I can compass

-it, I'll have some one to take care of father

-daytimes, and let you go to school."</p>

-

-<p>"To school!" said the little girl, "to learn more&mdash;to

-know how to speak proper! Oh, oh, I'm mos'

-too happy to live! Hank Dillson, I think you're

-the mos' beautiful man that was ever made!" and,

-dropping her sugar-bowl on the shelf, she seized a

-hand of the ex-creamery shark, and warmly pressed

-it between her little lean palms.</p>

-

-<p>Hank, in some embarrassment, murmured, "Oh,

-fudge, I'm not as good as the next one."</p>

-

-<p>"You're a million times better!" exclaimed 'Tilda

-Jane. "Oh, what a glad man Mr. Waysmith will

-be to have you in his mill! Come now, let's have

-supper. Dear ole grampa mus' get to bed. You

-wouldn't like to kill him with joy the first night

-you're home."</p>

-

-<p>A few minutes later 'Tilda Jane was beaming

-behind the big coffee-pot. At last she had become<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>

-a member of a really happy family. Her dogs were

-stretched luxuriously on their rag mat by the stove,

-Grampa, calm and quiet, was sipping his coffee, and

-listening to some of Hank's travelling adventures.</p>

-

-<p>She could not contain her delight. Her heart

-was too full, and presently she burst into low, irrepressible

-laughter.</p>

-

-<p>Her companions stopped talking and stared at

-her.</p>

-

-<p>"Oh, I can't help it!" she exclaimed, wildly,

-"I feel as if I'd come through a big sea of troubles

-to reach the promised land! I'm crazy&mdash;I'm

-crazy!" and too excited to keep still she pushed

-her chair aside, and rocked back and forth on her

-feet.</p>

-

-<p>She saw stretching before her a long vista of

-happy years&mdash;the sight was almost too much for

-her, yet even in her ecstasy she thought of other

-children less fortunate.</p>

-

-<p>"Hank, brother Hank!" she called suddenly,

-"the Tracys say to pass on blessings. All the

-world ain't joyful like us. When you make a little

-money will you let me write to the lady-boards for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>

-another orphan,&mdash;the ugliest little orphan they've

-got,&mdash;worse than me, if it's not unpossible."</p>

-

-<p>"You just write it down that I will," said Hank,

-gazing kindly and benevolently at her flushed face.</p>

-

-<p>"We'll do it," cried 'Tilda Jane. "We'll be

-good to that other orphan. I know they'll have

-one, but how can I wait? What shall I do? I

-mus' hug some one, I'm so happy!"</p>

-

-<p>She flashed a glance at the dogs. They were

-sleepy and comfortable. "Grampa, I guess it'll

-have to be you," she said, gaily, and, running to the

-old man, she threw her arms around his wrinkled

-neck, kissed his bald head, and fulfilled her promise

-of a hugging so vigorously that at last he called for

-mercy.</p>

-

-<p>"Now, I'll go take something," she said, demurely,

-and, with a last caress, "you darlin' ole

-grampa&mdash;I could eat you&mdash;Lord, give me a thankful

-heart for all these mercies," then, reverently

-bending her head over her plate, she took up her

-knife and fork with a long and happy sigh.</p>

-

-

-<p class="p2 pfs90">THE END.</p>

-

-

-<p class="p4" />

-<div><a name="PBC" id="PBC"></a></div>

-<hr class="fulla pg-brk" />

-<hr class="fulla" />

-

-<p class="p2 pfs135"><span class="smcap">L. C. Page &amp; Company's</span><br />

-Cosy Corner Series<br />

-<span class="xs">OF</span><br />

-Charming Juveniles</p>

-

-<div class="figcenterx">

-<img src="images/sep1x.jpg" width="20" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-<p class="pfs80">Each one volume, 16mo, cloth, Illustrated, 50 cents</p>

-

-<div class="figcenterx">

-<img src="images/sep1x.jpg" width="20" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="advert">

-

-<p><b>Ole Mammy's Torment.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Little Colonel.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Big Brother."</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Big Brother.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Gate of the Giant Scissors.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Two Little Knights of Kentucky,</b> who were "The Little

-Colonel's" neighbors. By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A sequel to "The Little Colonel."</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Story of Dago.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Farmer Brown and the Birds.</b> By <span class="smcap">Frances Margaret

-Fox</span>. A little story which teaches children that the birds

-are man's best friends.</p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Story of a Short Life.</b> By <span class="smcap">Juliana Horatia Ewing</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">This beautiful and pathetic story is a part of the world's

-literature and will never die.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Jackanapes.</b> By <span class="smcap">Juliana Horatia Ewing</span>.</p>

-

-<p>A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite and

-touching story, dear alike to young and old.</p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Little Lame Prince.</b> By <span class="smcap">Miss Mulock</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures

-by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Adventures of a Brownie.</b> By <span class="smcap">Miss Mulock</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">The story of a household elf who torments the cook and

-gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the children.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>His Little Mother.</b> By <span class="smcap">Miss Mulock</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant

-source of delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in

-this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts

-of readers.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Little Sunshine's Holiday.</b> By <span class="smcap">Miss Mulock</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">"Little Sunshine" is another of those beautiful child-characters

-for which Miss Mulock is so justly famous.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Wee Dorothy.</b> By <span class="smcap">Laura Updegraff</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the

-eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Rab and His Friends.</b> By Dr. <span class="smcap">John Brown</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known to

-need description.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Water People.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Lee Sleight</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Relating the further adventures of "Harry," the little hero

-of "The Prince of the Pin Elves."</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Prince of the Pin Elves.</b> By <span class="smcap">Chas. Lee Sleight</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A fascinating story of the underground adventures of a

-sturdy, reliant American boy among the elves and

-gnomes.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Helena's Wonderworld.</b> By <span class="smcap">Frances Hodges White</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in the

-mysterious regions beneath the sea.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>For His Country.</b> By <span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A beautiful story of a patriotic little American lad.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>A Little Puritan's First Christmas.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edith Robinson</span>.</p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>A Little Daughter of Liberty.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edith Robinson</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "A Loyal Little Maid," "A Little Puritan

-Rebel," etc.</span></p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A true story of the Revolution.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>A Little Puritan Rebel.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edith Robinson</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">An historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the

-gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>A Loyal Little Maid.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edith Robinson</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days,

-in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important

-services to George Washington and Alexander

-Hamilton.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>A Dog of Flanders.</b> <span class="smcap">A Christmas Story.</span> By <span class="smcap">Louise

-de la Ramée</span> (Ouida).</p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Nurnberg Stove.</b> By <span class="smcap">Louise de la Ramée</span> (Ouida).</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">This beautiful story has never before been published at a

-popular price.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The King of the Golden River.</b> <span class="smcap">A Legend of Stiria</span>.

-By <span class="smcap">John Ruskin</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Written fifty years or more ago, this little fairy tale soon

-became known and made a place for itself.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>La Belle Nivernaise.</b> <span class="smcap">The Story of An Old Boat and

-Her Crew.</span> By <span class="smcap">Alphonse Daudet</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">It has been out of print for some time, and is now offered

-in cheap but dainty form in this new edition.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Young King.</b> <b>The Star Child.</b></p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Two stories chosen from a recent volume by a gifted

-author, on account of their rare beauty, great power,

-and deep significance.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>A Great Emergency.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mrs. Ewing</span>.</p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Trinity Flower.</b> By <span class="smcap">Juliana Horatia Ewing</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. Ewing's

-best short stories for the young people.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Adventures of Beatrice and Jessie.</b> By <span class="smcap">Richard

-Mansfield</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A bright and amusing story of the strange adventures of

-two little girls in the "realms of unreality."</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>A Child's Garden of Verses.</b> By <span class="smcap">R. L. Stevenson</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">This little classic is undoubtedly the best of all volumes of

-poetry for children.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Little King Davie.</b> By <span class="smcap">Nellie Hellis</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">It is sufficient to say of this book that it has sold over

-110,000 copies in England, and consequently should well

-be worthy of a place in "The Cosy Corner Series."</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Little Peterkin Vandike.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Stuart Pratt</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">The author's dedication furnishes a key to this charming

-story.</span></p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">"I dedicate this book, made for the amusement of the

-boys who may read it, to the memory of one boy, who

-would have enjoyed as much as Peterkin the plays of

-the Poetry Party."</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Making of Zimri Bunker.</b> <span class="smcap">A Tale of Nantucket.</span>

-By <span class="smcap">W. J. Long</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">The story deals with a sturdy American fisher lad during

-the war of 1812.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Fortunes of the Fellow.</b> By <span class="smcap">Will Allen Dromgoole</span>.

-A sequel to "The Farrier's Dog and His

-Fellow."</p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.</b> By <span class="smcap">Will Allen

-Dromgoole</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman,

-will appeal to all that is best in the natures of her many

-admirers.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Sleeping Beauty.</b> <span class="smcap">A Modern Version.</span> By <span class="smcap">Martha

-B. Dunn</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, intellectually

-"asleep," until she meets the "Fairy Prince."</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Young Archer.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles E. Brimblecom</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied

-Columbus on his voyage to the New World.</span></p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="advert-box">

-

-<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>

-<div class="bbox2">

-<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>

-</div>

-

-<div class="bbox2a">

-<p class="pfs240">Our Devoted Friend<br />

-the Dog</p>

-

-<p class="pfs120 smcap">By SARAH K. BOLTON</p>

-

-<p class="pfs80 wsp">AUTHOR OF "GIRLS WHO HAVE BECOME FAMOUS," ETC.</p>

-

-<p class="pfs100"><em>Fully illustrated with many reproductions from original

-photographs.</em></p>

-

-<p class="pfs100">1 vol., small quarto, $1.50</p>

-

-<div class="figcenterx">

-<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-<p>This book of the dog and his friends does for the

-canine member of the household what Helen M. Winslow's

-book, "Concerning Cats," did for the feline.

-No one who cares for dogs&mdash;and that class includes

-nearly all who do not care for cats, and some who do&mdash;will

-admit that the subject of Mrs. Bolton's book is a less

-felicitous choice than that of its predecessor; while the

-author's well-known ability as a writer and lecturer, as

-well as her sympathy with her subject, are a sufficient

-guarantee of a happy treatment.</p>

-</div>

-

-<div class="bbox2">

-<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>

-<div class="bbox2">

-<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>

-</div>

-

-<div class="bbox2a">

-<p class="pfs150 lsp">THE</p>

-

-<p class="pfs240">Rosamond Tales</p>

-

-<p class="pfs120 smcap">By CUYLER REYNOLDS</p>

-

-<p><em>With many full-page illustrations from original photographs

-by the author, together with a frontispiece from a

-drawing by Maud Humphreys.</em></p>

-

-<p class="pfs100">Large 12mo, cloth, $1.50</p>

-

-<div class="figcenterx">

-<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-<p>These are just the bedtime stories that children always

-ask for, but do not always get. Rosamond and Rosalind

-are the hero and heroine of many happy adventures in

-town and on their grandfather's farm; and the happy

-listeners to their story will unconsciously absorb a vast

-amount of interesting knowledge of birds, animals, and

-flowers, just the things about which the curiosity of

-children from four to twelve years old is most insatiable.

-The book will be a boon to tired mothers, as a delight to

-wide-awake children.</p>

-</div>

-

-<div class="bbox2">

-<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>

-<div class="bbox2">

-<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>

-</div>

-

-<div class="bbox2a">

-<p class="pfs150 lsp">THE</p>

-

-<p class="pfs240">Little Cousin Series</p>

-

-<p class="pfs120 smcap">By MARY F. WADE</p>

-

-<p class="pfs100">Four volumes, each illustrated, cloth, 12mo, 60 cents</p>

-

-<p class="pfs120">

-<span class="smcap">Volume I.</span><br />

-<span class="xl">Our Little Japanese Cousin</span><br />

-<span class="smcap">Volume II.</span><br />

-<span class="xl">Our Little Brown Cousin</span><br />

-<span class="smcap">Volume III.</span><br />

-<span class="xl">Our Little Indian Cousin</span><br />

-<span class="smcap">Volume IV.</span><br />

-<span class="xl">Our Little Russian Cousin</span></p>

-

-<div class="figcenterx">

-<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-<p>These are the most interesting and delightful accounts

-possible of child-life in other lands, filled with quaint

-sayings, doings and adventures. The "Little Japanese

-Cousin," with her toys in her wide sleeve and her tiny

-bag of paper handkerchiefs; the "Little Brown Cousin,"

-in whose home the leaves of the breadfruit-tree serve for

-plates and the halves of the cocoanut shells for cups; the

-"Little Indian Cousin," who lives the free life of the

-forest, and the "Little Russian Cousin," who dwells by

-the wintry Neva, are truly fascinating characters to the

-little cousins who will read about them.</p>

-</div>

-

-<div class="bbox2">

-<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>

-<div class="bbox2">

-<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>

-</div>

-

-<div class="bbox2a">

-<p class="pfs150 lsp">THE</p>

-

-<p class="pfs240">Cosy Corner Series</p>

-

-<p class="pfs80 wsp">A SERIES OF CHARMING ILLUSTRATED

-JUVENILES BY WELL-KNOWN AUTHORS</p>

-

-<p>We shall issue ten new volumes in this well-known

-series of child classics, and announce three as follows:</p>

-

-<p class="pfs180">A Little Puritan Pioneer</p>

-

-<p class="pfs120 smcap">By EDITH ROBINSON</p>

-

-<p>Author of "A Loyal Little Maid," "A Little Puritan's

-First Christmas," etc.</p>

-

-<p class="pfs180">Madam Liberality</p>

-

-<p class="pfs120 smcap">By MRS. EWING</p>

-

-<p>Author of "Jackanapes," "A Great Emergency,"

-"Story of a Short Life," etc., etc.</p>

-

-<p class="pfs180">A Bad Penny</p>

-

-<p class="pfs120 smcap">By JOHN T. WHEELWRIGHT</p>

-

-<p>The other seven will include new stories by Louise

-de la Ramée, Miss Mulock, Nellie Hellis, Will Allen

-Dromgoole, etc., etc.</p>

-

-<p class="pfs100"><em>Forty-four volumes previously published</em></p>

-

-</div>

-

-<div class="bbox2">

-<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>

-</div>

-

-</div>

-

-

-<p class="p4 pfs135 pg-brk">Selections from<br />

-

-<span class="smcap">L. C. Page &amp; Company's</span><br />

-

-Books for Young People</p>

-

-<div class="figcenterx">

-<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="advert">

-

-<p><b>Old Father Gander:</b> <span class="smcap">or, The Better-Half of Mother

-Goose</span>. <span class="smcap">Rhymes, Chimes, and Jingles</span> scratched from

-his own goose-quill for American Goslings. Illustrated

-with impossible Geese, hatched and raised by <span class="smcap">Walter

-Scott Howard</span>.</p>

-

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">

-<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., oblong quarto, cloth decorative</td><td class="tdr wd20">$2.00</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">The illustrations are so striking and fascinating that the

-book will appeal to the young people aside from the fact

-even of the charm and humor of the songs and rhymes.

-There are thirty-two full-page plates, of which many are

-in color. The color illustrations are a distinct and successful

-departure from the old-fashioned lithographic

-work hitherto invariably used for children's books.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Crock of Gold:</b> <span class="smcap">A New Book of Fairy Tales</span>.

-By <span class="smcap">S. Baring Gould</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Mehalah," "Old Country Life," "Old English

-Fairy Tales," etc. With twenty-five full-page illustrations

-by F. D. Bedford.</span></p>

-

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">

-<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., tall 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top</td><td class="tdr">$1.50</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">This volume will prove a source of delight to the children

-of two continents, answering their always increasing demand

-for "more fairy stories."</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Shireen and Her Friends:</b> <span class="smcap">The Autobiography of a

-Persian Cat</span>. By <span class="smcap">Gordon Stables</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Illustrated by Harrison Weir.</span></p>

-

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">

-<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative</td><td class="tdr">$1.25</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A more charming book about animals Dr. Stables himself

-has not written. It is similar in character to "Black

-Beauty," "Beautiful Joe," and other books which teach

-us to love and protect the dumb animals.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Bully, Fag, and Hero.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles J. Mansford</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">With six full-page illustrations by S. H. Vedder.</span></p>

-

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">

-<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top</td><td class="tdr">$1.50</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">An interesting story of schoolboy life and adventure in

-school and during the holidays.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Adventures of a Boy Reporter</b> <span class="smcap">in the Philippines</span>.

-By <span class="smcap">Harry Steele Morrison</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "A Yankee Boy's Success."</span></p>

-

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">

-<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated</td><td class="tdr">$1.25</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A true story of the courage and enterprise of an American

-lad. It is a splendid boys' book, filled with healthy interest,

-and will tend to stimulate and encourage the proper

-ambition of the young reader.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Tales Told in the Zoo.</b> By <span class="smcap">F. C. Gould</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">With many illustrations from original drawings.</span></p>

-

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">

-<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large quarto</td><td class="tdr">$2.00</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A new book for young people on entirely original lines.</span></p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">The tales are supposed to be told by an old adjutant stork

-in the Zoological Gardens to the assembled birds located

-there, and they deal with legendary and folk-lore stories

-of the origins of various creatures, mostly birds, and

-their characteristics.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Philip:</b> <span class="smcap">The Story of a Boy Violinist</span>. By T. W. O.</p>

-

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">

-<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., 12mo, cloth</td><td class="tdr">$1.00</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">The life-story of a boy, reared among surroundings singular

-enough to awaken interest at the start, is described by

-the present author as it could be described only by one

-thoroughly familiar with the scene. The reader is carried

-from the cottages of the humblest coal-miners into the

-realms of music and art; and the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">finale</i> of this charming

-tale is a masterpiece of pathetic interest.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Black Beauty:</b> <span class="smcap">The Autobiography of a Horse</span>. By

-<span class="smcap">Anna Sewell</span>. <em>New Illustrated Edition.</em></p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">With twenty-five full-page drawings by Winifred Austin.</span></p>

-

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">

-<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top</td><td class="tdr">$1.25</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">There have been many editions of this classic, but we confidently

-offer this one as the most appropriate and handsome

-yet produced. The illustrations are of special

-value and beauty, and should make this the standard

-edition wherever illustrations worthy of the story are

-desired.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Voyage of the Avenger:</b> <span class="smcap">In the Days of the

-Dashing Drake</span>. By <span class="smcap">Henry St. John</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "A Middy of Nelson's Day," etc. With twenty-five

-full-page illustrations by Paul Hardy.</span></p>

-

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">

-<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., tall 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 400 pages</td><td class="tdr">$1.50</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A book of adventure, the scene of which is laid in that

-stirring period of colonial extension when England's

-famous naval heroes encountered the ships of Spain,

-both at home and in the West Indies. Mr. St. John

-has given his boy readers a rattling good story of the

-sea. There is plenty of adventure, sufficient in fact to

-keep a boy fixed near the fireside until the last page is

-reached.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>A Child's History of Spain.</b> By <span class="smcap">Leonard Williams</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Ballads and Songs of Spain," etc.</span></p>

-

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">

-<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., small 12mo, with frontispiece, cloth, gilt top</td><td class="tdr">$0.75</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Although the recent war with Spain has aroused general

-interest and caused a great demand for literature relating

-to the subject, there has not as yet been published a condensed

-history of Spain for young people. Mr. Williams's

-little book will prove a desirable addition to the children's

-historical library.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Fairy Folk from Far and Near.</b> By <span class="smcap">A. C. Woolf</span>, M. A.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">With numerous full-page color illustrations by Hans Reitz.</span></p>

-

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">

-<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative</td><td class="tdr">$1.50</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">It is long since there has appeared such a thoroughly delightful

-volume of fairy tales as that of Annie C. Woolf.

-An added attraction to the book is found in the exquisite

-colored illustrations, the work of Hans Reitz. As a

-Christmas gift-book to children, these tales will be hard

-to excel.</span></p>

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Magnet Stories.</b> By <span class="smcap">Lynde Palmer</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A new edition; new binding and larger size volume, 5 vols.,

-12mo. Reduced price.</span></p>

-

-<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">

-<tr><td class="tdl wd90">Drifting and Steering</td><td class="tdr">$1.00</td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">One Day's Weaving</td><td class="tdr">1.00</td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">Archie's Shadow</td><td class="tdr">1.00</td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">John-Jack</td><td class="tdr">1.00</td></tr>

-<tr><td class="tdl">Jeannette's Cisterns</td><td class="tdr">1.00</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="advert-box">

-

-<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>

-<div class="bbox2">

-<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>

-</div>

-

-<div class="bbox2a">

-<p class="pfs150 lsp">THE</p>

-

-<p class="pfs240">Woodranger Tales</p>

-

-<div class="p1"></div>

-<p class="pfs120 smcap">Volume III.</p>

-

-<p class="pfs180">The Hero of the Hills</p>

-

-<p class="pfs120 smcap">By G. WALDO BROWNE</p>

-

-<div class="p1"></div>

-<p class="pfs120 smcap">Volume I.</p>

-

-<p class="pfs180">The Woodranger</p>

-

-<p class="pfs120 smcap">By G. WALDO BROWNE</p>

-

-<div class="p1"></div>

-<p class="pfs120 smcap">Volume II.</p>

-

-<p class="pfs180">The Young Gunbearer</p>

-<p class="pfs120 smcap">By G. WALDO BROWNE</p>

-

-<p class="pfs100">Each large 12mo, cloth, fully illustrated, $1.00</p>

-

-<div class="figcenterx">

-<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-<p>There is the reality of history behind these stories,

-the successful series of "Woodranger Tales," the scope

-and trend of which are accurately set forth in the title.

-While full of adventure, the interest in which sometimes

-rises to the pitch of excitement, the stories are not sensational,

-for Mr. Browne writes with dignity, if with liveliness.

-The books will not fail to interest any lively,

-wholesome-minded boy.</p>

-</div>

-

-<div class="bbox2">

-<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>

-<div class="bbox2">

-<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>

-</div>

-

-<div class="bbox2a">

-<p class="pfs240 lsp">Prince Harold</p>

-

-<p class="pfs80">A FAIRY STORY</p>

-<br />

-<p class="pfs120 smcap">By L. F. BROWN</p>

-<br />

-<p class="pfs100"><em>With ninety full-page illustrations</em></p>

-<br />

-<p class="pfs100">Large 12mo, cloth, $1.50</p>

-

-<div class="figcenter">

-<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-<p>A delightful fairy tale for children, dealing with the

-life of a charming young Prince, who, aided by the Moon

-Spirit, discovers, after many adventures, a beautiful girl

-whom he makes his Princess. He is so enamored that

-he dwells with his bride in complete seclusion for a

-while, entrusting the conduct of his kingdom meantime

-to his monkey servant, Longtail. The latter marries

-a monkey princess from Amfalulu, and their joint reign is

-described with the drollest humor. The real rulers

-finally return and upset the reign of the pretenders. An

-original and fascinating story for young people.</p>

-</div>

-

-<div class="bbox2">

-<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>

-</div>

-

-</div>

-

-

-

-

-<p class="p2 pfs135 pg-brk"><span class="smcap">L. C. Page &amp; Company's</span><br />

-Gift Book Series<br />

-<span class="xs">FOR</span><br />

-Boys and Girls</p>

-

-<div class="figcenterx">

-<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-<p class="pfs80">Each one volume, tall 12mo, cloth, Illustrated, $1.00</p>

-

-<div class="figcenterx">

-<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" alt="" />

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="advert">

-

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Little Colonel's House Party.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Little Colonel," etc. Illustrated by E. B. Barry.</span></p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Mrs. Johnston has endeared herself to the children by her

-charming little books published in the Cosy Corner

-Series. Accordingly, a longer story by her will be

-eagerly welcomed by the little ones who have so much

-enjoyed each story from her pen.</span></p>

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Chums.</b> By <span class="smcap">Maria Louise Pool</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Little Bermuda," etc. Illustrated by L. J.

-Bridgman.</span></p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">"Chums" is a girls' book, about girls and for girls. It relates

-the adventures, in school, and during vacation, of

-two friends.</span></p>

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Three Little Crackers.</b> <span class="smcap">From Down in Dixie</span>. By <span class="smcap">Will

-Allen Dromgoole</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Farrier's Dog." A fascinating story for

-boys and girls, of the adventures of a family of Alabama

-children who move to Florida and grow up in the South.</span></p>

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Miss Gray's Girls:</b> <span class="smcap">or, Summer Days in the Scottish

-Highlands</span>. By <span class="smcap">Jeannette A. Grant</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A delightfully told story of a summer trip through Scotland,

-somewhat out of the beaten track. A teacher,

-starting at Glasgow, takes a lively party of girls, her

-pupils, through the Trossachs to Oban, through the

-Caledonian Canal to Inverness, and as far north as

-Brora.</span></p>

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>King Pippin:</b> <span class="smcap">A Story for Children</span>. By <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gerard

-Ford</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Pixie."</span></p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">One of the most charming books for young folks which

-has been issued for some time. The hero is a lovable

-little fellow, whose frank and winning ways disarm even

-the crustiest of grandmothers, and win for him the affection

-of all manner of unlikely people.</span></p>

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Feats on the Fiord:</b> <span class="smcap">A Tale of Norwegian Life</span>. By

-<span class="smcap">Harriet Martineau</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">This admirable book, read and enjoyed by so many young

-people, deserves to be brought to the attention of parents

-in search of wholesome reading for their children to-day.

-It is something more than a juvenile book, being really

-one of the most instructive books about Norway and

-Norwegian life and manners ever written.</span></p>

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Songs and Rhymes for the Little Ones.</b> Compiled by <span class="smcap">Mary

-Whitney Morrison</span> (Jenny Wallis).</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">New edition, with an introduction by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney.</span></p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">No better description of this admirable book can be given

-than Mrs. Whitney's happy introduction:</span></p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">"One might almost as well offer June roses with the assurance

-of their sweetness, as to present this lovely little

-gathering of verse, which announces itself, like them, by

-its own deliciousness. Yet, as Mrs. Morrison's charming

-volume has long been a delight to me, I am only too

-happy to declare that it is to me&mdash;and to two families

-of my grandchildren&mdash;the most bewitching book of

-songs for little people that we have ever known."</span></p>

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Young Pearl Divers:</b> <span class="smcap">A Story of Australian Adventure

-by Land and by Sea</span>. By <span class="smcap">Lieut. H.

-Phelps Whitmarsh</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">This is a splendid story for boys, by an author who writes

-in vigorous and interesting language, of scenes and adventures

-with which he is personally acquainted.</span></p>

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Woodranger.</b> By <span class="smcap">G. Waldo Browne</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">The first of a series of five volumes entitled "The Woodranger

-Tales."</span></p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Although based strictly on historical facts the book is an

-interesting and exciting tale of adventure, which will

-delight all boys, and be by no means unwelcome to their

-elders.</span></p>

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Three Children of Galilee:</b> <span class="smcap">A Life of Christ for the

-Young</span>. By <span class="smcap">John Gordon</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">There has long been a need for a Life of Christ for the

-young, and this book has been written in answer to this

-demand. That it will meet with great favor is beyond

-question, for parents have recognized that their boys and

-girls want something more than a Bible story, a dry

-statement of facts, and that, in order to hold the attention

-of the youthful readers, a book on this subject

-should have life and movement as well as scrupulous

-accuracy and religious sentiment.</span></p>

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Little Bermuda.</b> By <span class="smcap">Maria Louise Pool</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Dally," "A Redbridge Neighborhood," "In a

-Dike Shanty," "Friendship and Folly," etc.</span></p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">The adventures of "Little Bermuda" from her home in

-the tropics to a fashionable American boarding-school.

-The resulting conflict between the two elements in her

-nature, the one inherited from her New England ancestry,

-and the other developed by her West Indian surroundings,

-gave Miss Pool unusual opportunity for

-creating an original and fascinating heroine.</span></p>

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Wild Ruthvens:</b> <span class="smcap">A Home Story</span>. By <span class="smcap">Curtis York</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">A story illustrating the mistakes, failures, and successes of

-a family of unruly but warm-hearted boys and girls.

-They are ultimately softened and civilized by the influence

-of an invalid cousin, Dick Trevanion, who comes to

-live with them.</span></p>

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>The Adventures of a Siberian Cub.</b> Translated from the

-Russian of Slibitski by <span class="smcap">Leon Golschmann</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">This is indeed a book which will be hailed with delight, especially

-by children who love to read about animals.

-The interesting and pathetic adventures of the orphan-bear,

-Mishook, will appeal to old and young in much the

-same way as have "Black Beauty" and "Beautiful Joe."</span></p>

-<div class="p1x"></div>

-<p><b>Timothy Dole.</b> By <span class="smcap">Juniata Salsbury</span>.</p>

-

-<p><span class="negin1">The youthful hero, and a genuine hero he proves to be,

-starts from home, loses his way, meets with startling adventures,

-finds friends, kind and many, and grows to be a

-manly man. It is a wholesome and vigorous book, that

-boys and girls, and parents as well, will read and enjoy.</span></p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="transnote pg-brk">

-<a name="TN" id="TN"></a>

-

-<p><strong>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</strong></p>

-

-<p>Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been

-corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within

-the text and consultation of external sources.</p>

-

-<p>Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,

-and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. For example:

-writing-pad, writing pad; cocoanut; curtsey; beshawled.</p>

-

-<p>

-<a href="#Page_38">Pg 38</a>, 'Onct our washerwoman' replaced by 'Once our washerwoman'.<br />

-<a href="#Page_38">Pg 38</a>, 'Onct I took' replaced by 'Once I took'.<br />

-<a href="#Page_42">Pg 42</a>, 'Onct when cats come' replaced by 'Once when cats come'.<br />

-<a href="#Page_90">Pg 90</a>, 'dare the undarable' replaced by 'dare the undareable'.<br />

-<a href="#Page_163">Pg 163</a>, 'only onct a day?' replaced by 'only once a day?'.<br />

-<a href="#Page_180">Pg 180</a>, 'onct have blue eyes' replaced by 'once have blue eyes'.<br />

-<a href="#Page_269">Pg 269</a>, "You mus' he" replaced by "You mus' be".<br />

-</p>

-

-<p><a href="#PBC">Publisher's Book Catalog:</a><br />

-In the Cosy Corner Series, 'and announce four' replaced by 'and

-announce three'.</p>

-

-<p>A page from 'Gift Series for Boys and Girls' has been moved to its

-proper position at the end of that section. This page described

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+/* Transcriber's notes */
+.transnote    {
+     background-color: #E6E6FA;
+     color: black;
+     font-size:90%;
+     padding:0.5em;
+     margin-top:5em;
+     margin-bottom:5em;
+     font-family:sans-serif, serif;
+}
+
+.transnote p {text-indent: 0em;}
+
+    </style>
+  </head>
+
+<body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52018 ***</div>
+
+<div class="transnote">
+<p><strong>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</strong></p>
+
+<p>Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
+corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
+the text and consultation of external sources.</p>
+
+<p>More detail can be found at the <a href="#TN">end of the book.</a></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="600" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap pg-brk" />
+<p class="p6" />
+<h1>'TILDA JANE</h1>
+<p class="p6" />
+
+
+<hr class="chap pg-brk" />
+<p class="p6" />
+<div class="bbox">
+
+<p class="pfs90">Works of</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120">Marshall Saunders</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Rose à Charlitte</p>
+<p>Her Sailor</p>
+<p>Deficient Saints</p>
+<p class="negin1x">For His Country and Grandmother and <br />
+the Crow</p>
+<p>'Tilda Jane</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20px;">
+<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" height="22" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="pfs90">L. C. PAGE &amp; COMPANY,</p>
+
+<p class="pfs90">Publishers</p>
+
+<p class="pfs90">200 Summer Street, Boston, Mass.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter pg-brk">
+<a name="FP" id="FP"></a>
+<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="500" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"SHE SPELLED OUT THE INFORMATION, 'I AM AN ORPHAN.'"
+<p class="right padr6">(<em>See <a href="#Page_80">page 80</a></em>)</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p class="p4" />
+<div class="tpage">
+
+<p class="xxl lsp">'TILDA JANE</p>
+
+<p class="large">AN ORPHAN IN SEARCH OF A HOME</p>
+<br />
+<p class="medium"><em>A Story for Boys and Girls</em></p>
+<br />
+
+<p>
+<span class="xs">BY</span><br />
+<span class="large lsp">MARSHALL SAUNDERS</span><br />
+<span class="xs wsp">AUTHOR OF "BEAUTIFUL JOE," "FOR HIS COUNTRY,"<br />
+"ROSE À CHARLITTE," "HER SAILOR,"<br />
+"DEFICIENT SAINTS," ETC.</span></p>
+<br />
+
+<p class="antiqua">Illustrated by</p>
+<p>CLIFFORD CARLETON</p>
+<p class="small"><em>By courtesy of The Youth's Companion</em></p>
+<br />
+
+<p><span class="small">"My brother, when thou seest a poor man,<br />
+behold in him a mirror of the Lord."<br />
+<span class="pad6 smcap">&mdash;St. Francis of Assisi.</span></span></p>
+<br />
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/colophon.jpg" width="100" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<p>BOSTON</p>
+<p class="medium wsp">L. C. PAGE &amp; COMPANY</p>
+<p class="medium">1901</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<div class="p6"></div>
+<div class="tpage">
+
+<p>
+<em>Copyright, 1901</em><br />
+<span class="smcap">By Perry Mason Company</span><br />
+<br />
+<em>Copyright, 1901</em><br />
+<span class="smcap">By L. C. Page &amp; Company</span><br />
+(Incorporated)<br />
+<br />
+<em>All rights reserved</em><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="p6"></div>
+<p class="antiqua">Colonial Press</p>
+<p class="fs80">Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds &amp; Co.<br />
+Boston, Mass., U. S. A.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<div class="p6"></div>
+<div class="tpage wsp">
+
+<p>
+<span class="xs">I DEDICATE THIS STORY TO</span><br />
+<span class="small">EMILE HUGUENIN, JEAN BRUN,<br />
+GERALD MUIR, SANFORD ROTHENBURG,<br />
+HARRY KRUGER, MAUGHS BROWN,</span><br />
+<span class="xs">AND</span><br />
+<span class="small">ROBBIE MACLEAN,</span><br />
+<span class="xs">BOYS OF BELMONT SCHOOL WHO USED TO GATHER ROUND ME<br />
+ON SUNDAY AFTERNOONS AND BEG FOR A MANUSCRIPT<br />
+READING OF THE TRIALS OF MY ORPHAN<br />
+IN SEARCH OF A HOME.</span>
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="p6" />
+<hr class="chap pg-brk" />
+<p class="p6" />
+
+<div class="blockquot fs90">
+
+<p><em>Owing to the exigencies of serial publication, the story of
+"'Tilda Jane," as it appeared in The Youth's Companion, was
+somewhat condensed. In the present version the omitted portions
+have been restored, and the story published in its original
+form.</em></p></div>
+
+
+<p class="p6" />
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p class="p6" />
+
+<h2 class="xl"><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</a></h2>
+<hr class="r10" />
+
+<div class="center smcap">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="90%" summary="Table of Contents">
+<tr><td class="tdr xs">CHAPTER</td><td></td><td class="tdr xs">PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td><td class="tdl">A Creamery Shark</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td><td class="tdl">Even Sharks Have Tender Hearts</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td><td class="tdl">The Story of Her Life</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td><td class="tdl">Unstable as Water</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td><td class="tdl">Another Adventure</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td><td class="tdl">Deaf and Dumb</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td><td class="tdl">Clearing up a Mistake</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td><td class="tdl">A Third Running Away</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td><td class="tdl">Lost in the Woods</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td><td class="tdl">Among Friends</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td><td class="tdl">A Sudden Resolution</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XII.</td><td class="tdl">Farewell to the Poachers</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XIII.</td><td class="tdl">An Attempted Trick</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XIV.</td><td class="tdl">Home, Sweet Home</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XV.</td><td class="tdl">The French Family</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XVI.</td><td class="tdl">The Tiger in His Lair</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XVII.</td><td class="tdl">The Tiger Makes a Spring</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XVIII.</td><td class="tdl">In Search of a Perfect Man</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XIX.</td><td class="tdl">Sweet and Soft Repentance</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XX.</td><td class="tdl">Waiting</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XXI.</td><td class="tdl">The Tiger Becomes a Lamb</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XXII.</td><td class="tdl">A Troubled Mind</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XXIII.</td><td class="tdl">An Unexpected Appearance</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XXIV.</td><td class="tdl">A Friend in Need</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p class="p6" />
+
+<h2 class="xl"><a name="LOI" id="LOI">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</a></h2>
+<hr class="r10" />
+
+<div class="center smcap">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="90%" summary="List of Illustrations">
+<tr><td class="tdl"></td><td class="tdr xs">PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"She spelled out the information, 'I am an orphan'" (<em><span class="fvnormal">See <a href="#Page_80">page 80</a></span></em>)</td><td class="tdr"><em><span class="fvnormal"><a href="#FP">Frontispiece</a></span></em></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'Well, I vum!'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p015">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'Tilda Jane sat like a statue"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p045">45</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'I'm goin' to repent some day'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p092">92</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"He lay down beside her"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p116">116</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'Stop thar&mdash;stop! Stop!'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p168">168</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'You are young for that, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>, yet&mdash;'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p190">190</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"He lifted up his voice and roared at her"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p215">215</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'I've led another dog astray, an' now he's dead'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p235">235</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'They was glad to get rid of me'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p258">258</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap pg-brk" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="pfs240">'TILDA JANE.</p>
+<hr class="r10" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER I.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">A CREAMERY SHARK.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The crows had come back. With the fashionables
+of Maine they had gone south for the winter,
+but now on the third day of March the advance
+guard of the solemn, black army soared in sight.</p>
+
+<p>They were cawing over the green pine woods of
+North Marsden, they were cawing over the black
+spruces of South Marsden, and in Middle Marsden,
+where the sun had melted the snow on a few
+exposed knolls, they were having a serious and
+chattering jubilation over their return to their summer
+haunts.</p>
+
+<p>"Land! ain't they sweet!" muttered a little girl,
+who was herself almost as elfish and impish as a
+crow. She stood with clasped hands in the midst
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+of a spruce thicket. Her face was upturned to the
+hot sun set in the hard blue of the sky. The sun
+burned her, the wind chilled her, but she remained
+motionless, except when the sound of sleigh-bells was
+heard. Then she peered eagerly out into the road.</p>
+
+<p>Time after time she returned to her hiding-place
+with a muttered, "No good!" She allowed a priest
+to go by, two gossiping women on their way from
+the village to spend a day in the country, a minister
+hurrying to the sick-bed of a parishioner, and
+several loaded wood-sleds, but finally a hilarious
+jingle drew her hopefully from her retreat.</p>
+
+<p>Her small black eyes screwed themselves into two
+glittering points as she examined the newcomer.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll do!" she ejaculated; then, with a half-caressing,
+half-threatening, "You'll get murdered if
+there's a word out o' you," addressed to an apparent
+roll of cloth tucked among spruce branches a few
+feet from the ground, she stepped out by the
+snake fence.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, mister!"</p>
+
+<p>The fat young man bobbing over the "thank-you-ma'ams"
+of the snowy road, pulled himself up with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
+a jerk in his small sleigh drawn by a long-legged
+mare.</p>
+
+<p>"Coronation! Where did that noise come from?
+Hello, wood-lark," as he observed the little girl peeping
+at him through the fence, "is there a hawk in
+your nest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who be you?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got an awful pretty name," he replied, flicking
+his whip over the snow-bank beside him, "too
+pretty to tell."</p>
+
+<p>"Who be you?" she asked, pertinaciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Ever hear tell of a creamery shark?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know as sharks favoured cream," she
+said, soberly.</p>
+
+<p>"They dote on it."</p>
+
+<p>"Be you a creamery shark?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;course not. I'm chasing one. I'm a
+farmer."</p>
+
+<p>The small, keen-eyed girl looked him all over.
+He was the creamery shark himself, and he certainly
+had an oily, greasy appearance befitting his
+fondness for cream. However, she did not care
+what he was if he served her purpose.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Will you gimme a lift?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"A lift&mdash;where?"</p>
+
+<p>"Anywhere out o' this," and she pointed back to
+the smart, white village up the river.</p>
+
+<p>"Now what be you?" he said, cunningly.</p>
+
+<p>"I be a runaway."</p>
+
+<p>"What you running from?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a-runnin' from an orphan 'sylum."</p>
+
+<p>"Good for you&mdash;where you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm goin' to Orstralia."</p>
+
+<p>"Better for you&mdash;what you going there
+for?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause," she said, firmly, "they know how
+to treat orphans there. They don't shut 'em
+up together like a lot o' sick pigs. They scatter
+'em in families. The gover'ment pays their
+keep till they get old enough to fend for themselves.
+Then they gets a sum o' money an' they
+works&mdash;I heard a lady-board readin' it in a newspaper."</p>
+
+<p>"A lady-board?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;lady-boards has to run 'sylums."</p>
+
+<p>"Course they do. Well, skip in, little un."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p015" id="p015"></a>
+<img src="images/p015.jpg" width="475" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'WELL, I VUM!'"</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There's another passenger," she said, firmly;
+"an' them as takes me takes him."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you got your granddaddy along?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, siree, but I've got somethin' mos' as good
+as a granddaddy, an' I'd thank you to keep a straight
+tongue when you speak of him."</p>
+
+<p>The young man put the offending tongue in his
+cheek, and chuckled enjoyably as the small, elfish
+figure disappeared in the wood. Presently she
+returned with a good-sized bundle in her arms, that
+she thrust through the fence.</p>
+
+<p>"Give it a name," said the young man; "why,
+see how it's wiggling&mdash;must be some kind of an
+animal. Cat, weasel, rabbit, hen, dog&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop there," she ejaculated; "let it be dog.
+His name's Gippie."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I vum!" the young man said, good-naturedly,
+as she approached the sleigh and deposited
+her beshawled dog on his knees.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess this sleigh warn't built for two," she
+said, as she crawled in beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"Right you are; but you don't want to be carted
+far."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Gimme that dog," she said, taking the bundle,
+"an' start off. Prob'ly they're just hitchin' up to
+be after me."</p>
+
+<p>He clicked his tongue to the long-legged mare,
+and speedily fences and trees began to fly by
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you twig me for?" asked the fat
+young man. "Ain't you had no other chance?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lots," she said, briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"There was an ole boy ahead o' me with a two-seated
+rig, an' a youngster on the back seat. Why
+didn't you freeze on to him?"</p>
+
+<p>She turned her little dark face toward him, a little
+face overspread by sudden passion. "D'ye know
+what that ole shell-back would 'a' done?"</p>
+
+<p>"He'd 'a' took ye in."</p>
+
+<p>"He'd 'a' druv me back to that 'sylum. He looked
+too good, that one. You looked like a baddie."</p>
+
+<p>"Much obliged," he said, dryly.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you've done bad things," she said, inexorably.
+"You've stole pies, an' tole lies, an' fed
+dogs an' cats on the sly. I guess you've been found
+out."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The fat young man fell into a sudden reverie,
+and they passed several white fields in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"They'll never ketch me," she said at last, gleefully;
+"we're goin' like the wind."</p>
+
+<p>The young man looked down at her. She had
+the appearance of a diminutive witch as she sat with
+one hand clasping her faded hat, the other holding
+firmly to the bundle on her lap. Her countenance
+was so much older and shrewder in some phases than
+in others that the young man was puzzled to guess
+her age.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you ain't got any cloak," he said.
+"That's nothing but a dress you've got on, ain't
+it? Take the shawl off that dog."</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," she said, decidedly, "I don't do that."</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on; I've got a horse blanket here," and he
+dived under the seat. "There!" and he wrapped it
+around her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks," she said, briefly, and again her bird-like
+eyes scanned the road ahead.</p>
+
+<p>"Hot cakes an' syrup!" she exclaimed, in a voice
+of resigned distress, "there's the North Marsden
+lady-board comin'. They must have 'phoned her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+Say, mister, lemme sneak under here. If she holes
+you up, you'll have to tell a lie."</p>
+
+<p>The young man grinned delightedly as the little
+girl slipped through the blanket and disappeared
+under the lap-robe. Then he again went skimming
+over the snow.</p>
+
+<p>There was a very grand sleigh approaching him,
+with a befurred coachman on the seat driving a pair
+of roan horses, and behind him a gray-haired lady
+smothered in handsome robes.</p>
+
+<p>"Please stop!" she called pathetically, to the
+approaching young man.</p>
+
+<p>The creamery shark pulled up his mare, and
+blinked thoughtfully at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, have you seen a little girl?" she said excitedly;
+"a poor little girl, very thin and miserable,
+and with a lame, brown dog limping after her?
+She's wandering somewhere&mdash;the unfortunate,
+misguided child. We have had such trouble with
+her at the Middle Marsden Asylum&mdash;the orphan
+asylum, you know. We have fed her and clothed
+her, and now she's run away."</p>
+
+<p>The fat young man became preternaturally solemn,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+the more so as he heard a low growl somewhere in
+the region of his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Did she have black hair as lanky as an Injun's?"
+he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And a kind o' sickly green dress?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, and a dark complexion."</p>
+
+<p>"And a sort of steely air as if she'd dare the
+world?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's it; oh, yes, she wasn't afraid of any one."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I've sighted your game," he said, gravely,
+very gravely, considering that the "game" was
+pinching one of his legs.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll give you the scent," he went on. "Just
+follow this road till you come to the three pine-trees
+at the cross. Then turn toward Spruceville."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you, thank you. I'm ever so much
+obliged. But was she on foot or driving?"</p>
+
+<p>"Driving like sixty, sitting up on the seat beside
+a smooth old farmer with a red wig on, and a face as
+long as a church."</p>
+
+<p>"A red wig!" exclaimed the lady. "Why, that's
+Mr. Dabley&mdash;he's one of our advisory committee."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Dabley or Grabley, he's driving with one of your
+orphans. I see her as plain as day sitting beside
+him&mdash;brown face, faded black hat, sickly green
+frock, bundle on her lap."</p>
+
+<p>"Farmer Dabley&mdash;incredible! How one can be
+deceived. Drive on, Matthew. We must try to
+overtake them. Had he one horse or two?"</p>
+
+<p>"A pair, ma'am&mdash;a light-legged team&mdash;a bay
+and a cream. He's a regular old sport."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a Mephistopheles if he's helping that child
+to escape," said the lady, warmly. "I'll give him a
+piece of my mind."</p>
+
+<p>Her coachman started his horses, and the little
+girl under the robe was beginning to breathe freely
+when a shout from the young man brought her heart
+to her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, ma'am, was that a striped or a plain shawl
+she had her dog wrapped in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Striped&mdash;she had the impudence to steal it
+from the matron, and leave a note saying she did it
+because her jacket was locked up, and she was afraid
+her dog would freeze&mdash;I'm under a great obligation
+to you, sir."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No obligation," he said, lifting his hat. "I'm
+proud to set you on the chase after such a bad young
+one. That's your girl, ma'am. Her shawl was
+striped. I didn't tell you she had the nerve to ask
+me to take her in."</p>
+
+<p>"Not really&mdash;did she?" the lady called back;
+then she added, wonderingly, "but I thought you
+met her driving with Farmer Dabley?"</p>
+
+<p>They had both turned around, and were talking
+over their shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>There was a terrible commotion under the lap-robe,
+and the young man felt that he must be brief.</p>
+
+<p>"If you bark I'll break your neck," he heard the
+refugee say in a menacing whisper, and, to cover a
+series of protesting growls, he shouted, lustily, "Yes,
+ma'am, but first I passed her on foot. Then I
+turned back, and she was with the farmer. That
+young one has got the face of a government mule,
+but I'm used to mules, and when she asked me I
+said, ''Pears to me, little girl, you favour a runaway,
+and I ain't got no room for runaways in this narrow
+rig, 'specially as I'm taking a bundle of clothing to
+my dear old father'&mdash;likewise a young pig," he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+added, as there was a decided squeal from between
+his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, thank you," came faintly after him
+as he started off at a spanking gait, and, "You're
+badder than I thought you was," came reproachfully
+from the tumbled head peeping above the lap-robe.</p>
+
+<p>"You're grateful!" he said, ironically.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm bad, but I only asked the Lord to forgive
+the lies I'd got to tell," said the little girl as she
+once more established herself on the seat. "You
+should 'a' said, 'No, ma'am, I didn't see the little
+girl'&mdash;an' druv on."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you're kind of mixed in your opinions,"
+he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't mixed in my mind. I see things as
+straight as that air road," she replied. "I said,
+'This is a bad business, for I've got to run away,
+but I'll be as square as I can.'"</p>
+
+<p>She paused suddenly, and her companion asked,
+"What's up with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin'," she said, faintly, "only I feel as if
+there was a rat inside o' me. You ain't got any
+crackers round, have you?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, but I've got something better," and he drew
+a flask from the pocket of his big ulster and put it
+to her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>Her nostrils dilated. "I'm a Loyal Legion girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Loyal Legion&mdash;what's that?"</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry">
+<p class="verseq">"Beware of bottles, beware of cups,</p>
+<p class="verse">Evil to him who evil sups."</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Oh! a temperance crank," and he laughed.
+"Well, here's a hunk of cake I put in my pocket
+last night."</p>
+
+<p>The little girl ate with avidity the section of a
+rich fruit loaf he handed her.</p>
+
+<p>"How about your dog?" asked the young
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I guess he ain't hungry," she said, putting
+a morsel against the brown muzzle thrust from the
+shawl. "Everythin' was locked up last night, an'
+there warn't enough lunch for him an' me&mdash;see, he
+ain't for it. He knows when hunger stops an' greed
+begins. That's poetry they taught us."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell us about that place you've been raised.
+No, stop&mdash;you're kind of peaked-looking. Settle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+down an' rest yourself till we pull up for dinner. I'll
+gabble on a bit if you'll give me a starter."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you favour birds an' things, don't you?"
+she observed, shrewdly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yaw&mdash;do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes I think I'm a bird," she said, vehemently,
+"or a worm or somethin'. If I could 'a'
+caught one o' them crows this mornin' I'd 'a' hugged
+it an' kissed it. Ain't they lovely?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don' know about lovely," said the young
+man, in a judicial manner, "but the crow, as I take
+him, is a kind of long-suffering orphan among birds.
+From the minute the farmers turn up these furrows
+under the snow, the crow works like fury. Grubs
+just fly down his red throat, and grasshoppers
+ain't nowhere, but because he now and then lifts
+a hill o' petetters, and pulls a mite o' corn when it
+gets toothsome, and makes way once in so often
+with a fat chicken that's a heap better out o' the
+world than in it, the farmers is down on him, the
+Legislature won't protect him, and the crow&mdash;man's
+good friend&mdash;gets shot by everybody and
+everything!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I wish I was a queen," said the little girl,
+passionately.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sissy, if you ever get to be one, just unmake
+a few laws that are passed to please the
+men who have a pull. Here in Maine you might
+take the bounty off bob-cats, an' let 'em have their
+few sheep, an' you might stand between the mink
+and the spawning trout, and if you want to put a
+check on the robins who make war on the cherries
+an' strawberries, I guess it would be more sensible
+than chasing up the crows."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm remarkin' that you don't beat your horse,"
+said his companion, abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"That mare," said the young man, reflectively,
+"is as smart as I be, and sometimes I think a
+thought smarter."</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't beat that little dog," she said,
+holding up her bundle.</p>
+
+<p>"Bet your striped shawl I wouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"I like you," she said, emphatically. "I guess
+you ain't as bad as you look."</p>
+
+<p>The young man frowned slightly, and fell into
+another reverie.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER II.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">EVEN SHARKS HAVE TENDER HEARTS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The old Moss Glen Inn, elm-shaded and half covered
+by creeping vines, is a favourite resort for travellers
+in the eastern part of Maine, for there a good
+dinner can be obtained in a shorter space of time
+than in any other country hotel in the length and
+breadth of the State.</p>
+
+<p>"And all because there's a smart woman at the
+head of it," explained the young man to the
+little waif beside him. "There she is&mdash;always on
+hand."</p>
+
+<p>A round, good-natured face, crowning a rotund,
+generous figure, smiled at them from the kitchen
+window, but while the eyes smiled, the thick, full
+lips uttered a somewhat different message to a tall,
+thin woman, bending over the stove.</p>
+
+<p>"Ruth Ann, here's that soapy Hank Dillson round
+again,&mdash;takin' in the farmers, as usual, engagin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
+them to pay for machinery and buildings more than
+are needed, considerin' the number of their cows, an'
+he's got a washed-out lookin' young one with him.
+She'll make a breach in the victuals, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>Ruth Ann, who was her sister and helper in
+household affairs, came and looked over her shoulder,
+just as Dillson sprang from the sleigh.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Minley stepped to the door, and stood bobbing
+and smiling as he turned to her.</p>
+
+<p>"How de do, Mrs. Minley. Give this little girl a
+place to lie down till dinner's ready, will you? She's
+dead beat."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane walked gravely into the kitchen, and
+although her head was heavy, and her feet as light as
+if they were about to waft her to regions above, she
+took time to scrutinise the broad face that would
+have been generous but for the deceitful lips, and
+also to cast a glance at the hard, composed woman at
+the window, who looked as if her head, including the
+knob of tightly curled hair at the back, had been
+carved from flint.</p>
+
+<p>"Step right in this way," said Mrs. Minley, bustling
+into a small bedroom on the ground floor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was not used to being waited on, and
+for one proud moment she wished that the children
+in the orphan asylum could see her. Then a feeling
+of danger and insecurity overcame her, and she sank
+on one of the painted, wooden chairs.</p>
+
+<p>"You're done out," said Mrs. Minley, sympathetically.
+"Are you a relation of Mr. Dillson's?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I ain't."</p>
+
+<p>"You can lie on that bed if you like," said
+Mrs. Minley, noticing the longing glance cast
+at it.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I guess I will," said 'Tilda Jane, placing
+her bundle on a chair, and stooping down to unloose
+her shoes.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop till I get some newspapers to put on the
+bed," said the landlady&mdash;"what's in that package?
+It's moving," and she stared at the shawl.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a dog."</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy me! I don't allow no dogs in my
+house."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said the little girl, patiently putting
+on her shoes again.</p>
+
+<p>"What you going to do, child?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm goin' to the wood-shed. Them as won't have
+my dog won't have me."</p>
+
+<p>"Land sakes, child, stay where you be! I guess
+he can't do no harm if you'll watch him."</p>
+
+<p>"No ma'am, he'll not rampage. He's little, an'
+he's ole, an' he's lame, an' he don't care much for
+walkin'. Sometimes you'll hear nothin' out o' him
+all day but a growl or a snap."</p>
+
+<p>The landlady drew away from the bundle, and
+after she had seen the tired head laid on the pillow,
+she softly closed the door of the room.</p>
+
+<p>In two minutes 'Tilda Jane was asleep. The night
+before she had not dared to sleep. To-day, under
+the protection of the creamery shark, she could take
+her rest, her hunger satisfied by the cake he had
+given her in the sleigh. The shark crept in once
+to look at her. "Ain't she a sight?" he whispered
+to Mrs. Minley, who accompanied him, "a half-starved
+monkey."</p>
+
+<p>She playfully made a thrust at his ribs. "Oh,
+go 'long with you&mdash;always making your jokes!
+How can a child look like a monkey?"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled, well pleased at her cajoling tone, then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+stretching himself out in an armchair, he announced
+that dinner must be postponed for an hour to let the
+child have her sleep out.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Minley kept a pleasant face before him, but
+gave vent to some suppressed grumbling in the
+kitchen. With fortitude remarkable in a hungry
+man, he waited until one o'clock, then, losing patience,
+he ate his dinner, and, telling Mrs. Minley
+that he had business in the neighbourhood, and
+would not be back until supper-time, he drove away
+in his sleigh.</p>
+
+<p>At six o'clock 'Tilda Jane felt herself gently
+shaken, and opening her eyes, she started up in
+alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"All right&mdash;'tain't the police," said Mrs. Minley.
+"I know all about you, little girl. You needn't be
+scared o' me. Get up and have a bite of supper.
+Mr. Dillson's going away, and he wants to see you."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane rose and put on her shoes in silence.
+Then she followed the landlady to the next room.
+For an instant she staggered back. She had never
+before seen such a huge, open fireplace, never had
+had such a picture presented to her in the steam<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>-heated
+orphanage. Fresh from troubled dreams,
+it seemed as if these logs were giants' bodies laid
+crosswise. The red flames were from their blood
+that was being licked up against the sooty stones.
+Then the ghastliness vanished, and she approvingly
+took in the picture,&mdash;the fat young
+creamery shark standing over the white cat and
+rubbing her with his toe, the firelight on the
+wall and snowy table, and the big lamp on the
+mantel.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello!" he exclaimed, turning around, "did you
+make your sleep out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes sir," she said, briefly. "Where shall I put
+this dog?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't put him nowhere till we turn this cat out.
+Scat, pussy!" and with his foot he gently assisted
+the small animal kitchenwards.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you can roast your pup here," he said,
+pointing to the vacated corner.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't touch him," warned 'Tilda Jane, putting
+aside his outstretched hand. "He nips worse'n a
+lobster."</p>
+
+<p>"Fine dog that," said the young man, ironically.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+"Come on now, let's fall to. I guess that rat's
+rampaging again."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he's pretty bad," said 'Tilda Jane, demurely;
+and she seated herself in the place indicated.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Minley waited on them herself, and, as she
+passed to and fro between the dining-room and
+kitchen, she bestowed many glances on the lean,
+lank, little girl with the brown face.</p>
+
+<p>After a time she nudged Hank with her elbow.
+"Look at her!"</p>
+
+<p>Hank withdrew his attention for a minute from
+his plate to cast a glance at the downcast head opposite.
+Then he dropped his knife and fork. "Look
+here! I call this kind of low-down."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane raised her moist eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got ham and eggs; fried petetters
+and toast, and two kinds of preserve, and hot
+rolls and coffee, and cake and doughnuts, which
+is more'n you ever got at the asylum, I'll warrant,
+and yet you're crying,&mdash;and after all the
+trouble you've been to me. There's no satisfying
+some people."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane wiped her eyes. "I ain't a-cryin' for
+the 'sylum," she said, stolidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then what are you crying for?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm cryin' 'cause it's such a long way to Orstralia,
+an' I don't know no one. I wish you was a-goin'."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I was, but I ain't. Come on now, eat
+your supper."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I be a fool," she muttered, picking up
+her knife and fork. "I've often heard I was."</p>
+
+<p>"Hi now&mdash;I guess you feel better, don't you?"
+said the young man, twenty minutes later.</p>
+
+<p>He was in excellent humour himself, and, sitting
+tilted back in his chair by the fireplace, played a
+tune on his big white teeth with a toothpick.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I guess I'm better," said 'Tilda Jane,
+soberly. "That was a good supper."</p>
+
+<p>"Hadn't you better feed your pup?" asked the
+young man. "Seems to me he must be dead, he's
+so quiet."</p>
+
+<p>"He's plumb beat out, I guess," said the little
+girl, and she carefully removed the dog's queer
+drapery.</p>
+
+<p>A little, thin, old, brown cur staggered out, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+lips viciously rolled back, and a curious unsteadiness
+of gait.</p>
+
+<p>"Steady, old boy," said the young man; "my
+soul and body, he ain't got but three legs! Whoa&mdash;you're
+running into the table."</p>
+
+<p>"He don't see very well," said 'Tilda Jane, firmly.
+"His eyes is poor."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter with his tail? It don't seem
+to be hung on right."</p>
+
+<p>"It wobbles from having tin cans tied to it.
+Gippie dear, here's a bone."</p>
+
+<p>"Gippie dear," muttered the young man. "I'd
+shoot him if he was my dog."</p>
+
+<p>"If that dog died, I'd die," said the little girl,
+passionately.</p>
+
+<p>"We've got to keep him alive, then," said the
+young man, good-humouredly. "Can't you give him
+some milk?"</p>
+
+<p>She poured out a saucer full and set it before
+him. The partially blind dog snapped at the saucer,
+snapped at her fingers until he smelled them and
+discovered whose they were, then he finally condescended
+to lick out the saucer.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And you like that thing?" said the young man,
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Like him!&mdash;I love him," said 'Tilda Jane,
+affectionately stroking the brown, ugly back.</p>
+
+<p>"And when did he give away that leg?"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head. "It's long to tell. I guess
+you'd ask me to shut up afore I got through."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER III.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">THE STORY OF HER LIFE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The young man said nothing more at the time,
+but ten minutes later, when he was thoughtfully
+smoking a long brown pipe, and 'Tilda Jane sat
+in a chair beside him, rocking her dog, he called
+out to Mrs. Minley, who was hovering about the
+room. "Sit down, Mrs. Minley. P'raps you can
+get this little girl to talk; I can't."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane turned sharply to him. "Oh, mister,
+I'd do anything for you. I'll talk."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, reel it off then. I've got to start soon."</p>
+
+<p>"What d'ye want to know?" she said, doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Everything; tell me where you started from.
+Was you born in the asylum?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody don't know where I was born. Nobody
+don't know who I am, 'cept that a woman come
+to the poorhouse with me to Middle Marsden when
+I was a baby. She died, an' I was left. They give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+me the name of 'Tilda Jane Harper, an' put me in
+the 'sylum. Children come an' went. Just as soon
+as I'd get to like 'em they'd be 'dopted; I never
+was 'dopted, 'cause I'm so ugly. My eyes ought
+to 'a' been blue, an' my hair curly. I might 'a'
+been a servant, but my habits was in the way."</p>
+
+<p>"Habits&mdash;what habits?" asked Hank.</p>
+
+<p>"Habits of impidence an' pig-headedness. When
+the men come to kill the pigs I'd shut myself in
+my room, an' put my fingers in my ears, an' I
+couldn't hear, but I'd always squeal when the pigs
+squealed."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that why you wouldn't eat your ham just
+now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that ain't ham to me," she said, eloquently.
+"That bit o' red meat was a cunnin', teeny white
+pig runnin' round a pen, cryin' 'cause the butcher's
+after him. I couldn't eat it, any more'n I'd eat my
+brother."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a queer little kite," interjected the young
+man, and he exchanged an amused glance with Mrs.
+Minley, who was swaying gently back and forth in a
+rocking-chair.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"So you wasn't very much set up at the asylum?"
+he went on.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I'm too bad for a 'sylum. <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'Onct our washerwoman'">Once our
+washerwoman</ins> took me home to supper. I guess
+heaven must be like that. They had a cat, too. I
+used to get in most trouble at the 'sylum 'bout cats.
+When starvin' ones came rubbin' up agin me in the
+garden, I couldn't help sneakin' them a bit o' bread
+from the pantry. It beats all, how cats find out people
+as likes 'em. Then I'd get jerked up."</p>
+
+<p>"Jerked up?" repeated her interlocutor.</p>
+
+<p>"Locked in my room, or have my hands slapped.
+<ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'Onct I took'">Once I took</ins> a snake in the house. He was cold,
+but he got away from me, an' the matron found him
+in her bed. She whipped me that time."</p>
+
+<p>"Was that what made you run away?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I run away on account o' this dog. You
+call up the cold spell we had a week ago?"</p>
+
+<p>"You bet&mdash;I was out in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there come the coldest night. The matron
+give us extry blankets, but I couldn't sleep. I woke
+up in the middle o' the night, an' I thought o' that
+dog out in the stable. 'He'll freeze,' I said, an'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+when I said it, it seemed as if icicles were stickin'
+into me. I was mos' crazy. I got up an' looked
+out the window. There was a moon, an awful bitin',
+ugly kind of a moon grinnin' at me. I put on some
+clo'es, I slipped down-stairs, an' it seemed as if
+everythin' was yellin' in the cold. Every board
+an' every wall I touched went off like a gun, but
+no one woke, an' I got out in the stable.</p>
+
+<p>"The horse was warm an' so was the cow, but this
+little dog was mos' froze. I tried to warm him, but
+my fingers got like sticks. Then I did a scand'lous
+thing. I says, 'I'll take him in bed with me an'
+warm him for a spell, an' no one'll know;' so I
+lugged him in the house, an' he cuddled down on
+my arm just so cunnin'. Then I tried to stay
+awake, so I could carry him out early in the
+mornin', but didn't I fall to sleep, an' the first thing
+I knowed there was the matron a-spearin' me
+with her eyes, an she put out her hand to ketch
+the dog, an' he up an' bit her, an' then there was
+trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of trouble?" asked the young
+man.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I had bread an' water for two days, an' the dog
+was shut up in the stable, an' then I was brought up
+before the lady-board."</p>
+
+<p>"The lady-board," murmured Mrs. Minley; "what
+does the child mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"The board of lady managers," explained Dillson.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell us about it," he said to 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>The latter was keeping an eye on the clock. She
+knew that the time must soon come for her to part
+from her new-found friend. It was not in her nature
+to be very demonstrative, yet she could not altogether
+hide a certain feverishness and anxiety. One thing,
+however, she could do, and she subdued her emotion
+in order to do it. It amused the young man to hear
+her talk. She would suppress her natural inclination
+to silence and gravity, and try to entertain him.
+And the more she talked, possibly the longer he
+would stay.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore she went on: "There they set round
+the table as big an' handsome as so many pies. One
+lady was at the top, an' she rapped on the table with
+a little hammer, an' said, ''Tention, ladies!' Then
+she says, 'Here is the 'fortinate object of dissection.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+What part shall we tackle fust? Name your wishes,
+ladies.' Then she stopped an' another lady begun,
+'Mam pressiding, stake the case.'"</p>
+
+<p>The young man took his pipe from his mouth, and
+Mrs. Minley ejaculated, "Mercy me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Madam president, I guess," he said, gravely.
+"Go on, sissy."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane went on, still with her eye on the
+clock, and still speaking feverishly. "The mam
+pressiding staked me out. Says she, 'Here is a
+little girl&mdash;she come to us like a lily o' the field;
+no dress on, no bunnit, no nothin'. We've fed an'
+clothed the lily, an' guv her good advice, an' she's
+lifted up her heel agin us. She deifies us, she introjuces
+toads an' snakes into the sacred presings of
+our sinningcherry for orphans. She packs a dirty
+dog in bed. We'll never levelate her. She's lowering
+the key of our 'stution. She knows not the
+place of reptiles an' quadruples. Ladies, shall we
+keep this little disturving lellement in our 'stution?
+If thy hand 'fend against thee cut it off. If thy
+foot straggle, treat it likewise.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then she set down, an' another lady got up.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+Says she, 'I'm always for mercy&mdash;strained mercy
+dropping like juice from heaven. If this little girl is
+turned inside out, she'll be a bright an' shinin' light.
+I prepose that we make the 'speriment. The tastes
+is in her, but we can nip off the grati'cations. I
+remove that instead of disturving her, we disturve
+the animiles. Ladies, we has hard work to run this
+'stution.'"</p>
+
+<p>"This 'stution?" said the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, 'stution," repeated 'Tilda Jane, "that's
+what they call the 'sylum. Well, this lady went on
+an' says she, 'Let's send away the cats an' dogs an'
+all the children's pets&mdash;squirrels an' pigeons an'
+rabbits, 'cause this little girl's disruptin' every child
+on the place. <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'Onct when cats come'">Once when cats come</ins> an' other animiles,
+they was stoned away. Now they're took in.
+I come across one little feller jus' now, an' instead o'
+learnin' his lesson he was playin' with a beetle.
+Ticklin' it with a straw, ladies. Now ain't that
+awful? We've got 'sponsibilities toward these
+foun'lings. I feels like a mother. If we sends 'em
+foolish out in the world we'll be blamed. Our faithful
+matron says it's unpossible to ketch rats an'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
+mice. This little girl gets at the traps, an' let's
+'em go. She's a born rule-smasher!'</p>
+
+<p>"Then she closed her mouth an' set down, an' the
+big lady sittin' at the head o' the table pounded her
+hammer 'cause they all fell to jabberin'. Says she,
+'Will some lady make a commotion?' Then one
+lady got up, an' she says, 'I remove that all animiles
+be decharged from this 'stution.'</p>
+
+<p>"'What about the chickings?' called out another
+lady. 'You must declude them. This will go on
+record.' The other lady said, ''Scuse me, I forgot
+the chickings. I'll mend my dissolution. I remove
+that all quadruples be decharged from this 'stution.'</p>
+
+<p>"That suited some, an' didn't suit t'others, an'
+there was a kind of chally-vally. One lady said she's
+mend the mendment, an' then the mam pressiding
+got kind o' mixy-maxy, an' said they'd better start
+all over agin, 'cause she'd lose her way 'mong so
+many mendments. After a long time, they got their
+ideas sot, an' they said that I was to stay, but all the
+animiles was to go. I didn't snuffle nor nothin', but
+I just said, 'Are you plannin' to kill that there
+dog?'</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The mam pressiding gave a squeal an' said, 'No,
+that would be cruel. They would give the dog to
+some little feller who would be good to him.' I said,
+'Little fellers tie tin cans to dogs' tails'&mdash;an' then
+they got mad with me an' said I was trespicious.
+Then I said, 'All right,' 'cause what could I do agin
+a whole lot o' lady-boards? But I made up my mind
+I'd have to work my way out of it, 'cause it would kill
+that little dog to be took from me. So I run away."</p>
+
+<p>Her story was done, and, closing her lips in dogged
+resolution, she stared inquiringly at the young man.
+He was not going to withdraw his protection from
+her, she saw that, but what would he direct her to
+do next?</p>
+
+<p>He was thoughtfully tapping his pipe against the
+fireplace, now he was putting it in his pocket, and
+now he was going to speak.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p045" id="p045"></a>
+<img src="images/p045.jpg" width="550" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'TILDA JANE SAT LIKE A STATUE."</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Little girl, you've started for Australia, and as I
+don't believe in checking a raring, tearing ambition,
+I won't try to block you, exactly, but only to sidetrack.
+You can't go to Australia bang off. It's too
+far. And you haven't got the funds. Now I'll make
+a proposition. I've got an old father 'most as cranky
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>as that there dog. I guess if you're so long-suffering
+with the animal, you'll be long-suffering with the
+human. He needs some tidy body to keep his house
+trigged up, and to wait on him, 'cause he's lame. He
+has an everlasting wrastle to keep a housekeeper on
+account of this same flash-light temper. But I guess
+from what I've seen of you, that you could fix him.
+And you'd have a home which you seem to hanker
+for. And you could save your money and start for
+Australia when you've put enough flesh on those
+bones to keep you from blowing away into the sea
+and getting lost. Starting would be convenient, for
+my father lives near the big Canadian railway that is
+a round the world route. You can step aboard the
+cars, go to the Pacific, board a steamer, and go on
+your way to Australia. What do you say&mdash;is it a
+bargain?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane sat like a statue. The firelight danced
+behind her little, grave profile that remained unchanged,
+save for the big tears rolling slowly and
+deliberately down each thin cheek and dropping on
+the faded dress. Only the tears and the frantically
+clasped hands betrayed emotion.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I guess it's a go," said the young man, kindly.
+"Here's my father's address," and getting up he
+handed a card to her. "Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset,
+Maine. I've got to make tracks now, but Mrs.
+Minley here will put you on a train that comes by
+here in the morning, and all you've got to do is to sit
+still in it, till you hear the conductor holler Ciscasset.
+Then you hustle out and ask some one where
+Hobart Dillson lives. When you get there, don't
+shake if he throws a crutch at you. Just tell him
+you've come to stay, and I'm going to pay extra
+for it. That'll cool him, 'cause he's had to pay a
+housekeeper out of his own allowance up to this.
+The old boy and I don't rub along together very
+sweet, but he knows the size of a dollar every
+time."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane choked back the suffocating lump in
+her throat, and gravely rose to her feet. "Sir, I'm
+as much obleeged to you as&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Here she broke down.</p>
+
+<p>"As you ought to be," he finished. "Don't mention
+it. I'm happy to make your acquaintance. So
+long," and he politely held out two fingers.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A vague terror seized the little girl. He had
+arranged everything for her, and yet she had never
+since her escape felt so paralysed with fear. Her
+beseeching eyes sought Mrs. Minley's face. The
+landlady was smiling graciously at her, but the little
+girl's heart sunk. Quite unknown to herself, she
+was a sharp reader of character. She was losing her
+best friend in the fat young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Take me with you," she gasped, suddenly clinging
+to his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't do that, sissy. I'm going back into the
+settlements&mdash;bad roads, scattered houses. You'd
+freeze stiff. Better stay here with Mrs. Minley.
+I'll run up to Ciscasset by and by to see you."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane drew back in sudden, steely composure.
+She was ashamed of herself. "I'm crazy,"
+she said, shortly; "you've done enough for me now.
+I'll take care of your father if he gets mad fifty
+times a day."</p>
+
+<p>Already she felt a sense of responsibility. She
+drew herself up with dignity, and in sad, composed
+silence watched the young man leave the room and
+the house. When the last faint sound of his sleigh-bells<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+had died away, she gave up her listening attitude,
+and turned patiently to Mrs. Minley, who was
+saying with a yawn, "I guess you'd better go to
+bed."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane walked obediently toward her room,
+and Mrs. Minley, seating herself on a chair in cold
+curiosity, watched her undress.</p>
+
+<p>When the little girl knelt down to say her prayers,
+a feeble smile illuminated the woman's face. However,
+she was still listless and uninterested, until the
+latter portion of the petition.</p>
+
+<p>"O Lord," 'Tilda Jane was praying earnestly,
+almost passionately, "forgive me for all this sin an'
+'niquity. I just had to run away. I couldn't give
+up that little dog that thou didst send me. I'll live
+square as soon as I get takin' care o' that ole man.
+Bless the matron an' make her forgive me, an' bless
+all the lady-boards&mdash;Mis' Grannis 'specially, 'cause
+she'll be maddest with me. Keep me from tellin'
+any more lies. Amen."</p>
+
+<p>When 'Tilda Jane rose from her knees, Mrs.
+Minley's breath was coming and going quickly, and
+there was a curious light in her eyes. "Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+Grannis, did you say?" she asked, shortly. "Mrs.
+Grannis, over Beaver Dam way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"What has she got to do with the asylum?"</p>
+
+<p>"She's the fust lady-board. She sits behind the
+table an' pounds the hammer."</p>
+
+<p>"And she'll be maddest with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am. She says children has too much
+liberties."</p>
+
+<p>"Hurry into bed," said Mrs. Minley, briefly, and
+taking up the lamp, and without a word of farewell,
+she disappeared from the room.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane cowered down between the cold sheets.
+Then she stretched out a hand to touch the precious
+bundle on the chair by her bed. And then she tried
+to go to sleep, but sleep would not come.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER IV.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">UNSTABLE AS WATER.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>A vague uneasiness possessed her. Ah, how
+happy would she be, could she know that the young
+creamery man was sleeping under the same roof!
+But he was speeding somewhere far away over the
+snowy roads. However, she should see him again.
+He had said so, and, with the hopefulness of youth,
+she sighed a happy sigh and, closing her eyes tightly,
+listened to the various sounds about the quiet house.</p>
+
+<p>There must have been another arrival, for she
+heard doors opening and shutting, and also the jingle
+of sleigh-bells. They were strangely confused in
+her mind with the ringing of the rising-bell at the
+orphan asylum, and she was just sinking into a
+dreamy condition, a forerunner of sleep, when she
+heard a hard voice in her ear.</p>
+
+<p>"Get up an' dress, little girl."</p>
+
+<p>She raised herself quietly from the pillow. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+stood over her the tall, gaunt woman whom she had
+heard Mrs. Minley address as Ruth Ann. To her
+perturbed mind, there rose a vision of a graven
+image from the Bible, as she stared at the woman's
+stony countenance. She was standing shading a
+candle with her hand, and her deep eyes were fixed
+in unmistakable compassion on the little girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Jump up," she repeated, "an' dress like sixty.
+You've got yourself into a peck o' trouble."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane had not a thought of questioning the
+wisdom of this command. Something about the
+hard-faced woman inspired her with confidence, and
+without a word she stepped out of bed, and began
+rapidly putting on her clothes.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll talk while you dress," said the woman, in a
+hard, intense voice, and putting down the candle,
+"but, Lord, how can I say it all?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a kind of desperation in her tone,
+although no trace of emotion appeared on her face.
+'Tilda Jane felt a strange kinship with this reserved
+woman, and flashed her a sympathetic glance while
+buttoning one of her stout and ugly garments.</p>
+
+<p>Ruth Ann made a brief grimace. "Here I am,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+she said, with a sudden burst of speech, "a middle-aged
+woman gettin' old. You're a young one settin'
+out on life's journey. I'll never see you agin,
+prob'bly. Let me give you a word&mdash;be honest, an'
+if you can't be honest, be as honest as you can.
+You'll have no luck otherwise. You may think
+you're havin' luck in bein' sly, but it's a kind o' luck
+that turns to loss in the long run. There's that
+sister o' mine. She reminds me o' Reuben in the
+Bible&mdash;'unstable as water thou shalt not excel.'
+She's that deceitful that I should think she'd choke
+with it so she couldn't breathe."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane made no remark, but as she threw her
+dress over her head her two black eyes scintillated
+wonderingly in the woman's direction.</p>
+
+<p>"Unstable," said Ruth Ann, bitterly. "I'd 'a'
+loved her if she'd been honest, but it's always the
+same,&mdash;fair to the face, foul behind the back. I've
+slaved for her an' waited on her, an' heard her
+praised for work I've done, and seen young men
+oggle her, an' she oggle back, an' I've never had
+an offer an' never will, an' sometimes I think I hate
+her."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane paused for an instant in her rapid
+dressing. This sisterly repulsion was something
+unknown to her childish experience.</p>
+
+<p>"Then when she gets sick from stuffin' herself,
+I'm feared, an' think she's goin' to die, but she'll
+'tend my funeral, an' cry an' look so handsome that
+some ole Jack will pop the question on the way
+home. Here, child, eat these while you dress,"
+and she drew some doughnuts from her pocket.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane pushed them from her, with an involuntary
+movement of dislike.</p>
+
+<p>"You've turned agin me for turnin' agin my
+sister," said the woman, bitterly. "Wait till you're
+treated as I am. An' let me tell you what she's
+done to you. You made mention o' Mis' Grannis.
+Mis' Grannis has got a mortgage on this house.
+Mis' Grannis lends her money, Mis' Grannis is the
+god my sister bows down to. Do you think she'd
+let you stand between her and Mis' Grannis? No&mdash;the
+minute she heard you say Mis' Grannis
+would be pleased to git you back, that minute she
+made up her mind to fool you and Hank Dillson
+that she can't abide 'cause he ain't never asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+her to stop bein' a widow. So she made me help
+her hitch up, an' she's off on the wings of the
+wind to tell her sweet Mis' Grannis to come an'
+git you; an' just to fool her who is so cute at
+foolin' other folks, I made up my mind to git you
+off. Now do you take it in?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane did take in this alarming bit of news,
+and for one instant stood aghast. Then she resolutely
+fell to lacing on her shoes.</p>
+
+<p>"You're gritty," said the woman, admiringly.
+"Now I'll tell you what I've laid out. I'm goin'
+to guide you through the woods to the Moss Glen
+Station. When we git mos' there, I'll skedaddle
+home an' to bed, 'cause I don't want sister to find
+me out. Here's an extry pair o' stockin's an' shoes
+to put on before you board the train. You'll git
+yours full o' snow water. If all goes as I calc'late,
+you'll have time to change 'em in the station.
+You don't want to git sick so you can't stand up
+to that ole man. Here's a little tippet for your
+shoulders. Dillson told sister to give you a shawl,
+but she'll not do it. An' he paid her, too. Now
+come, let's start."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane brushed her hand over her eyes,
+resolutely picked up her dog, and followed her
+guide out to the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>Ruth Ann caught up a shawl, threw it over her
+head, and opened the door. "My&mdash;it's black! I
+guess we'll have to take a lantern."</p>
+
+<p>She turned back, fumbled in a corner of the
+kitchen, struck a light, then rejoined 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes they plodded on in silence.
+Then Ruth Ann said, anxiously, "I don' know
+what I'll do if it don't snow. She'll track us sure&mdash;me,
+big feet, an' you, smaller ones. Glory, it's
+snowin' now!"</p>
+
+<p>A sudden wind had sprung up in the black, quiet
+night, and whirled a few flakes of snow in their
+faces. Then the snow began to fall from above,
+gently and quietly, flake by flake.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane struggled along the heavy road in the
+wake of the tall woman ahead. The small dog
+seemed to have grown larger, and lay a heavy burden
+in her arms. Yet she uttered no word of
+complaint. Her mind was in a whirl, and she gave
+no thought to physical fatigue. What was she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
+doing? Had she&mdash;a little girl&mdash;any right to give
+so much trouble to grown people? Her actions
+were exactly in opposition to every precept that
+had been instilled into her mind. Children should
+be seen and not heard. Children should wait on
+grown people. Children must not lie under any
+circumstances. They must be obedient, truthful,
+honest, and uncomplaining. Perhaps she ought to
+go back to the orphan asylum. She could stand
+punishment herself&mdash;but her dog? They would
+make her give him up. Some boy would get him.
+Boys were all mischievous at times. Could she
+endure the thought of that little feeble frame
+subjected to torture? She could not, and steeling
+her heart against the asylum, the matron, and the
+lady managers, she walked on more quickly than
+ever.</p>
+
+<p>She would never forget that ghostly walk through
+the woods. The narrow way wound always between
+high snow-laden sentinels of trees. The sickly,
+slanting gleam of the lantern lighted only a few
+steps ahead. Mystery and solemnity were all about
+her; the pure and exquisite snow, on which they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+were putting their black-shod feet, was to her the
+trailing robe of an angel who had gone before.
+The large, flat snowflakes, showered on her erring
+head, were missives from the skies, "Go back,
+little girl, go back."</p>
+
+<p>"Lord, I can't go back," she repeated, stubbornly,
+"but I'll repent some more, by and by. Please
+take away the sick feeling in the middle of my
+stomach. I can't enjoy anythin'."</p>
+
+<p>The sick feeling continued, and she gave Ruth
+Ann only a feeble "yes," when she suddenly turned
+and threw the light of the lantern on her with a
+brisk, "Don't you want to know what lie I'm goin'
+to tell 'bout your leavin'?</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not goin' to tell any lie," Ruth Ann continued,
+triumphantly. "If you've got grace enough
+to hold your tongue, other folks'll do all your lyin'
+for you. Sister'll come home, Mis' Grannis with
+her, prob'bly. They'll go ravagin' in the spare
+room. They'll come ravagin' out&mdash;'Ruth Ann,
+that young one's run off!' An' I'll be busy with
+my pots an' pans, an' all I'll have to say is: 'Do
+tell!' or, 'Why, how you talk!' An' sister'll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
+rave an' tear, an' run round like a crazy thing, an'
+look at Mis' Grannis out o' the corner of her eye."</p>
+
+<p>Ruth Ann's shoulders shook with enjoyable
+laughter, but if she had turned suddenly she
+would have seen a look of unmistakable disgust
+flitting over the face behind her.</p>
+
+<p>She did turn suddenly a few minutes later, but the
+look was gone. "Here, give me that dog," she said,
+peremptorily.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl protested, but the woman took him,
+and again they plodded on in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Here we be," she said, after they had been walking
+for an hour longer.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane raised her head. The narrow road had
+abruptly expanded into a circular clearing, and in the
+midst of the clearing stood a small wooden building.</p>
+
+<p>Ruth Ann walked up to it, handed 'Tilda Jane the
+dog and the lantern, and put her hands on one of the
+diminutive windows.</p>
+
+<p>It opened easily, and she ejaculated with satisfaction,
+"Just what I thought. Come, crawl in here;
+the station agent's been here all the evenin', an' the
+fire ain't quite out. You'll be as snug as a bug in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+rug. He'll be back at daylight agin, an' soon after
+your train'll come along for Ciscasset. Don't you
+breathe a word to him 'bout me. Say Mis' Minley
+brought you here, if he asks anythin'. Here's enough
+money to buy your ticket. I ain't got much. Sister
+keeps me short, an' she's took away with her what
+Hank Dillson give her for you. Mind an' keep that
+card with his father's name pinned inside your dress.
+Here's a lunch," and she produced a parcel from her
+pocket. "Don't fret, sister can't git home much before
+breakfast, an' by that time you'll be in Ciscasset,
+an' I guess they'll not follow you there. She don't
+know the name o' the place, anyway. She didn't
+take no 'count when Hank mentioned it, an' when
+she asked me, you'd better believe I forgot it, too."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane scrambled through the window, and,
+upon arriving inside, turned around and gravely shook
+hands with her guide. "I guess I sha'n't forgit this."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you take no pains to remember it before
+sister," said the woman, with a chuckle, "if you don't
+want me to live an' die in hot water. Good luck to
+you. Shut the winder, an' put a stick on the fire,"
+and she strode off through the snow.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane shuddered. She was not a nervous
+child, yet the knowledge that she was alone in a
+forest pressed and bore down upon her. However,
+she was out of the increasing storm. She had got
+her guilty feet off that angel's trailing robe, and the
+little letters from heaven were not dashing in her
+face, nor was there any danger now that one of the
+groaning trees bending to lament over her would fall
+and crush her shrinking form.</p>
+
+<p>They were creaking all around the circular opening&mdash;those
+spying trees&mdash;staring through the curtainless
+windows at her, and instead of throwing on more
+wood, and making a blaze that would enable her to
+be plainly seen, she opened the stove door, and, cowering
+over the embers, changed her wet foot-gear,
+and tried to dry her clinging skirts.</p>
+
+<p>She was entirely miserable until the frightened dog
+crept into her arms. Here was something weaker
+and more in need of protection than herself, and,
+hugging him closely to her, she prepared to spend
+the rest of the night in a patient waiting for the
+morning.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER V.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">ANOTHER ADVENTURE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The quietest and most undemonstrative passenger
+on the night train from Boston was the shabby little
+girl in the corner, with the bundle beside her on the
+seat.</p>
+
+<p>The conductor, after one sharp glance, paid no
+attention to her, the brakemen paid no attention to
+her, the boy with the gum-drops and novels ignored
+her. She had the air of knowing where she was
+going, and also of being utterly uninteresting, and
+greatly to her relief she was left entirely to her own
+devices.</p>
+
+<p>In reality 'Tilda Jane was in a state of semi-paralysis.
+She scarcely dared to move, to breathe. All
+her life had been spent in the quiet precincts of the
+asylum. She had scarcely been allowed to go to the
+small village in its vicinity, and when she had been
+allowed to visit it she had seen nothing as wonderful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+as this, for there was no railway there. It took her
+breath away to be whirled along at so rapid a rate.
+She wondered how the people dared to walk about.
+She wondered how she had ever had courage enough
+to step on board the flaming, roaring monster that
+had come rushing out of the woods as if it would
+devour the little station, the agent, herself, and her
+dog. But they had not been devoured, and the
+agent had guided her staggering footsteps toward the
+monster. If he had not done so, she would in her
+bewilderment have been left a prey for the pitiless
+Mrs. Minley.</p>
+
+<p>For two hours she sat with swimming brain, then
+it occurred to her that she must in some way acquaint
+this wonderful and frightful means of locomotion,
+with her desire to alight at her destination.
+She closely watched the people entering and leaving
+the car, and discovered that immediately following
+the entrance of a man who bawled some unintelligible
+exclamation, something took place that reminded her
+of a game played at the asylum. Certain people went
+out, and certain others came in and took their places.
+She must catch this noisy man and speak to him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She patiently waited for him to pass through the
+car. Once he swept by her, and then some time
+elapsed before she saw him again. The train had
+been waiting for fifteen minutes at a station. A
+number of men had gone out, and presently come
+back brushing their moustaches and with toothpicks
+between their teeth. This must be an eating-place;
+and Ruth Ann said that 'Tilda Jane would arrive in
+Ciscasset before breakfast-time.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl desperately addressed a passenger
+passing her. "I say, sir, when do we come to
+Ciscasset?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ciscasset!" repeated the man. "We passed it
+an hour ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Passed it!" she echoed, stupidly.</p>
+
+<p>The man turned to a news agent sauntering by.
+"Here, you, send the conductor here."</p>
+
+<p>The conductor did not appear, but a brakeman
+came. "Got carried beyond your station, little girl.
+You're in Canada now, but it's all right; we'll ship
+you off at the next stop. Number eight will take
+you back. All ri-i-i-ght."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane fell back on her seat with a strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+sinking of heart. She remembered now that Hank
+Dillson had said the conductor would "holler" Ciscasset;
+but, if he had done so, she had not distinguished
+the words in the strange sounds issuing
+from his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed as if only a few bewildered minutes had
+passed when someone ejaculated, "McAdam Junction!"
+and the friendly brakeman was beside her.
+She felt herself lifted from her seat, bundle and all,
+and swung to a platform, where she stood among a
+group of people. She did not know where to go or
+what to do, and remained as one in a dream until
+some one touched her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"You the little girl carried beyond your station?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," she gasped, and looked up into the
+pleasant face of a young man bending over her.</p>
+
+<p>"All right; the conductor told me about you.
+Come in here," and he led the way to a waiting-room.
+"Had your breakfast?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, but I've got it here," and she pulled
+Ruth Ann's parcel out of her pocket.</p>
+
+<p>The young man smiled and motioned it back.
+"Come have some hot coffee," and he passed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+through a doorway into an eating-room, where 'Tilda
+Jane presently found herself seated before a steaming
+cup of coffee, and a plate of beefsteak and
+potatoes.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't got any money to pay for this," she said,
+bluntly, to the young woman who set the tempting
+viands before her.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right," said the girl, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane picked up her knife and fork. "All
+right!" seemed to be a railway expression. It was
+immensely comforting to her, and she soberly partook
+of the hot breakfast, drank all her coffee, and
+emptied the scraps from her plate into her handkerchief.
+Then she approached the counter where
+the young woman stood.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you kindly, ma'am. I've made a good
+meal."</p>
+
+<p>Then she went outdoors into the crisp morning
+air. The snow-storm was over, and the day was
+delightful&mdash;blue above, white below. It was like
+a fairy world. She walked to the end of the platform,
+unrolled her shawl, and, freeing her mummy-like
+dog, set his breakfast before him. He ate with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
+avidity, then, showing a disinclination to return to
+his bandages, hopped on his three legs along the
+platform beside her, his crooked tail meanwhile
+describing successive circles in the air. Some of
+the loiterers about the station gathered around him,
+and seeing that his bodily infirmities were a subject
+of mirth rather than of compassion, 'Tilda Jane, in
+spite of warm protests on his part, once more
+swathed him in his shawl, and carried him with
+dignity into the waiting-room. There she sat until
+the agreeable young man ran in and said her train
+was coming.</p>
+
+<p>Something warned her that she ought to implore
+him to tell some one to have a care of her&mdash;to see
+that she did not again get carried beyond her destination,
+but a kind of paralysis seized upon her
+tongue, and she could only open her mouth and
+gape stupidly at him.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be all right now," he said, with a nod.
+"Jump when you hear Ciscasset."</p>
+
+<p>"Ciscasset, Ciscasset!" she repeated the name
+in a kind of desperation, then, as the train started
+with a jerk and she tumbled into a seat, she said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+aloud, and without addressing any one in particular,
+"I wish to jump off at Ciscasset."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless the child!" ejaculated an old lady in the
+seat before her, "I guess this is her first journey,"
+and turning around, she stared mildly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, ma'am," said 'Tilda Jane, "can't you help
+me get off at Ciscasset? The train goes so fast, an'
+I'm so little."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless the child!" said the old lady again, "of
+course I will. Conductor, this little girl wishes to
+get off at Ciscasset."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said that official, hurrying by.</p>
+
+<p>"This little girl wishes to get off at Ciscasset,"
+exclaimed the old lady once more, this time to a
+brakeman.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded and passed on, and presently the conductor
+returned and said, smartly, "Tickets!"</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't got any," replied 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you must buy one," said the old lady;
+"have you got any money, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane never thought of asking the conductor
+if he had not been informed of her mishap. She
+never dreamed that the pleasant-faced young man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
+had forgotten to ask that she be carried back to the
+station for which she had bought her ticket. Therefore
+she drew her handkerchief from her pocket,
+untied a knot in its corner, and slowly produced
+fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all the money you've got?" asked the
+conductor, briskly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do you come from?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane preserved a discreet silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Put it up," he said, waving his hand toward the
+handkerchief and immediately going away.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what a nice kind man!" said the old lady.
+"He's going to let you ride free."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane breathed more freely, and returned
+her handkerchief to its place.</p>
+
+<p>The conductor, meanwhile, had gone to a Pullman
+car in the rear, where a man in plain clothes was
+lying back on a seat, apparently engaged in an aimless,
+leisurely scrutiny of the occupants of the car.</p>
+
+<p>"Jack," said the conductor, "there's a slip of a
+girl in the day car&mdash;poor clothes, shawl bundle, no
+money, won't tell where she comes from, making a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
+great fuss about going to Ciscasset, looks like an
+emigrant."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Jack, laconically, then he gave
+an imperceptible nod toward a trio of well-dressed
+young men engaged in card playing. "Want to see
+me nab that New York jeweller's clerk?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yep," said the conductor.</p>
+
+<p>"Got any telegrams in your pocket?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two."</p>
+
+<p>"Lend me one, and sit down here a minute."</p>
+
+<p>Jack got up, the conductor took the vacated seat,
+and waited one, two, three minutes, and then Jack
+reappeared from between the curtains of the drawing-room
+at the rear of the car.</p>
+
+<p>"A telegram for H.J. Bolingbroke," he called, in
+a loud voice; "any passenger of that name in this
+car?"</p>
+
+<p>The youngest of the three men playing cards
+involuntarily raised his head, started from his seat,
+half extended his hand, then drew back.</p>
+
+<p>Jack tossed the telegram to the conductor, and
+nodded to the young man. "Thought you were
+travelling under an assumed name. H. J. Boling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>broke
+<em>alias</em> Blixton. Have you got those diamonds
+in your pocket?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man flushed painfully, while his fellow
+players threw down their cards and surveyed him
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Trouble you to follow me to another car," said
+Jack, and he led the way for the detected smuggler.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane saw the two men pass, and innocently
+stared at them, little dreaming that her turn was to
+come next.</p>
+
+<p>After awhile Jack reappeared and sat down in a
+seat behind 'Tilda Jane. After noticing the ineffectual
+attempts made by the old lady to draw the
+little girl into conversation, he leaned over and
+poured some candy into her lap from a bag he held
+in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Have some, sissy?"</p>
+
+<p>She gratefully flashed him a glance over her
+shoulder. "Thank you, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Going far?" he asked, agreeably.</p>
+
+<p>"To Ciscasset," she said, feverishly. "Will you
+tell me when we come to it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. Going to visit friends?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, going home?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Your home isn't quite so near as Ciscasset?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you bring that small dog across the ocean
+with you?" he asked, his keen eye noting a stirring
+inside the bundle.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you pick him up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some boys were goin' to drown him."</p>
+
+<p>"So you're a kind little girl."</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't as good as I ought to be," she said,
+warmly; "but I'm goin' to try to be better. Oh,
+sir, are we at Ciscasset yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, this is Vanceboro, the border station between
+Canada and the States. I guess you'd better
+come this way for Ciscasset, little girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, this train goes direct to Ciscasset," interposed
+the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am, but this little girl is a stop-over.
+She'll probably go on the next train."</p>
+
+<p>The old lady grew suspicious. "You let that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+child alone, sir. Where's the conductor? Conductor,
+I say, come here. Can't some one get the
+conductor? Don't go with him one step, little
+girl."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane, grown very pale, gazed apprehensively
+at the man, and did not offer to leave her seat.</p>
+
+<p>He threw back his coat and displayed a badge.
+"Madam, I'm a government inspector."</p>
+
+<p>"A government inspector! What's that?" the
+old lady spluttered, eyeing him over her glasses.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, madam, there ain't much time for explanation,
+but I can tell you this much, namely, that
+we have to detain and examine all persons without
+means of livelihood who attempt to enter the United
+States from foreign countries."</p>
+
+<p>She still gazed at him suspiciously. "I never
+heard of such a thing. I guess this is a free
+country."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am, and the government wants to keep
+it free. If you get a lot of pauper foreigners here,
+it'll not be free long."</p>
+
+<p>"This little girl is American, ain't you, sissy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm an orphan," said 'Tilda Jane, guardedly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
+Whatever happened, she was determined not to
+admit too much.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the conductor appeared, and the
+old lady hailed him indignantly. "What does this
+mean, sir? This little girl offered to pay her passage.
+I saw her with my own eyes. Now you're
+going to put her off the train."</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right, ma'am," he said, soothingly, "she'll
+likely be allowed to go on to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"And you'll keep that innocent child here all
+day, and she too frightened to breathe?" cried the
+old lady. "I never heard of such doings. I'll write
+the President! I'll show you up in the papers!"</p>
+
+<p>"She'll be well taken care of, madam," said the
+conductor. "There's a good hotel here. All detained
+are lodged and fed at government expense.
+She'll be put in charge of a chambermaid."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a set of villains!" said the old lady,
+wrathfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, law!" groaned the conductor, "I'm sick of
+these fusses. Pick up her traps, Jack."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, little girl," said Jack, kindly, and 'Tilda
+Jane, seeing that the inevitable had once more over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>taken
+her, rose resignedly, but the too kind and
+officious old lady clung to her so wildly that the
+two men were forced to draw her away from her.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane, in a state of complete bewilderment
+totally unmixed with terror, for she had taken a
+liking to the kind face of her guide, trotted meekly
+after him into the shadow of a long V-shaped building.
+The platform was crowded with people. Two
+trains were standing at the station, and in a large
+dining-room on her right she saw thronged tables
+and hurrying waitresses.</p>
+
+<p>She was ushered into a room where there was a
+handsomely dressed woman with a flushed face and
+tearful eyes, a dejected looking boy and girl sitting
+very close to each other, a diminutive and poorly
+dressed German Jew, and a composed looking man
+sitting behind a small table.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have to leave you now," said her guide.
+"Don't be scared, but speak up," and with a reassuring
+smile he disappeared.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER VI.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">DEAF AND DUMB.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane sat down on a bench in the corner
+and took the dog on her lap.</p>
+
+<p>The fashionably dressed woman was speaking and
+gesticulating earnestly in front of the man whose
+face was only a trifle less calm and stony than that
+of Ruth Ann.</p>
+
+<p>"I never heard of such a thing in my life&mdash;to
+take my sealskin coat from me in the dead of winter.
+Now if it was summer, it wouldn't be so bad. My
+nice coat that cost me four hundred and seventy-five
+dollars."</p>
+
+<p>The man listened stolidly.</p>
+
+<p>"And you tell me your government orders you
+to take ladies' jackets from them. It seems incredible!"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane curiously scanned the garment under
+discussion. It certainly was very handsome.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It is incredible, madam. The government does
+not wish to deprive ladies of their sealskin coats. It
+merely requires its custom officials, of whom I am
+one, to enforce the law which has been made to prevent
+the importation of sealskin coats free of duty."</p>
+
+<p>"And have you taken many jackets?" sneered
+the woman.</p>
+
+<p>The official gazed at her in frigid silence.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go right back to Toronto, where I live," she
+said, indignantly. "I was going to buy my daughter's
+trousseau in New York, but I'll spend every
+cent at home. That's the way we will make New
+York suffer on account of your government being
+so hateful!" and she flounced from the room. The
+man behind the table cast a leisurely glance over
+the remaining occupants of the room. Then he
+addressed the dejected boy and girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, you!&mdash;what's your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thaddeus and Mary Lee," said the boy, mournfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Brother and sister?"</p>
+
+<p>"Man and wife," responded the boy, lugubriously.</p>
+
+<p>The assistant inspector elevated his eyebrows.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What ages?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nineteen and seventeen," sighed the lad.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"To Boston."</p>
+
+<p>"What for?"</p>
+
+<p>"To look for work."</p>
+
+<p>"Got any money?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two dollars and seventy cents."</p>
+
+<p>"That all?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"What place do you come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"Chickaminga, Quebec."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll take the 8.15 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span> train back to-morrow,"
+said the man, briefly. "Now, Deutscher," and he
+nodded to the German Jew.</p>
+
+<p>The boy and girl left the room, hand in hand,
+with melancholy clothing them like a garment, and
+'Tilda Jane gazed after them with wide-open eyes.
+Her attention, however, was soon distracted, for the
+little Jew, the instant he was indicated, sprang from
+his seat, extended both hands, and nimbly skipping
+over the floor between his numerous bundles, overwhelmed
+the inspector with a flood of German.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The inspector leaned back in his chair and at last
+put up a hand with a commanding, "Halt!"</p>
+
+<p>The old man paused open-mouthed, and the inspector
+went on in German: "You left your home,
+you crossed the sea, you wish to go to Portland to
+relatives&mdash;so far, so good, but where are your
+papers?"</p>
+
+<p>The old man broke into a second burst of
+eloquence.</p>
+
+<p>"Your certificate," reiterated the inspector, "your
+writing from the captain of the ship."</p>
+
+<p>The old man shook his head sadly. He had no
+papers.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane did not understand a word of what he
+was saying, but his gestures were expressive, and she
+anxiously watched his interlocutor.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you land?" asked the inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"In Halifax, Nova Scotia."</p>
+
+<p>"From what ship?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Das Veilchen.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Captain's name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Strassburger."</p>
+
+<p>"Your name?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Franz Veier."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll telegraph him. That's all."</p>
+
+<p>"And can I not go to my friends now&mdash;at once?
+They are waiting, they are expecting. We have so
+much to say."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the inspector, and as the German burst
+out into groans and lamentations, he waved him from
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>When the door closed, and 'Tilda Jane felt that the
+cold and scrutinising eyes of the inspector were fixed
+on her, she was stricken with sudden dumbness.
+How these people had talked! She could not in a
+month utter as much as they had said in a few
+minutes. The result of their loquacity had been a
+seeming paralysis of her organs of speech.</p>
+
+<p>"What's your name, little girl?" said the official,
+with slight geniality.</p>
+
+<p>Her lips parted, but no sound came from them.</p>
+
+<p>"<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Sprechen Sie Deutsch?</i>" he asked, agreeably.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head, not from any knowledge of
+his meaning, but to signify her disinclination for
+speech.</p>
+
+<p>"<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Parlez-vous français</i>?" he went on, patiently.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Her head again negatived this question, and he
+inquired in Spanish if she knew that tongue.</p>
+
+<p>The shaking of the head became mechanical, and
+as the inspector knew seventeen languages, he
+addressed her successively in each one of them.</p>
+
+<p>After she had shaken her head at them all, he
+surveyed her a few seconds in meditative silence.
+Then he began to talk on his fingers. She was
+probably deaf and dumb.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane joyfully uncurled her hands from the
+bundle on her lap. This was a safe medium of conversation,
+for talking on the fingers had been a
+favourite amusement of the orphans during silence
+hours; and she would not be tempted to say too
+much, and betray the fact that she was a runaway.
+Accordingly, she spelled out the information, "I am
+an orphan."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do you come from?" he asked her.</p>
+
+<p>"A long ways off," her finger tips informed him.</p>
+
+<p>"Name of place?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you," she responded.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"To&mdash;" she hesitated about the spelling of Cis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>casset,
+but got something near enough to it for him
+to understand.</p>
+
+<p>"Any relatives there?" he spelled on his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Going to visit?'</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any money?" he next asked her, and
+she politely and speedily informed him that she had
+fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p>"You must tell me where you come from," came
+next from him in peremptory finger taps.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," she replied, with spirited movements.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll stay here till you do," he responded,
+and with a yawn he rose, turned his back to her, and
+looked out of the window.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane took up her dog, and slipped out of
+the room. She was not frightened or sorry for the
+deception she had just practised. It did not seem to
+her that it was deception. For the time being she
+was deaf and dumb, and, far from being alarmed by
+her helpless condition, she possessed the strong conviction
+that she would be well taken care of. She
+had also ceased to worry about the board of lady<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+managers, and in her present comfortable, callous
+state of mind she reflected that she might stay here a
+year, and they would never think of looking for her
+in a railway station. She was lost to them, and she
+gaily hummed a tune as she strolled to and fro on
+the big wooden platform, watching the shunting
+engines, the busy custom-house officers, and the
+station yard employees, who were cleaning, rubbing,
+scouring, and preparing cars for further journeys.</p>
+
+<p>At twelve o'clock, just as she was beginning to
+stifle yawns, and gaze wistfully at the windows of
+the dining-room, a young girl in a white apron
+came and stood in the doorway, and, shading her
+eyes from the sun shining in such dazzling brightness
+on the snow, beckoned vigorously to 'Tilda
+Jane.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl needed no second invitation, and,
+with her dog limping behind her, trotted nimbly
+toward her new friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little soul&mdash;she's deef and dumb," said
+the dining-room girl, compassionately, as she passed
+a group of men in the hall. "Ain't it a pity?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane did not speak or smile, nor did her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+conscience, often so troublesomely sensitive, now
+give one reproving twinge. Since talking to the
+inspector she felt as if deaf and dumb. She had
+been officially proclaimed so, and in meek patience
+she seated herself at the table, calmly pointed to
+what she wished, and, being most tenderly and
+assiduously waited upon by the pitying girl, ate a
+large and excellent dinner.</p>
+
+<p>At the orphan asylum there had never been fare
+such as this, and, after she had finished her chocolate
+pudding, and put in her pocket a juicy orange
+that she could not possibly eat, she bowed her head,
+and internally and thankfully repeated the orphanage
+grace after meat.</p>
+
+<p>"Just look at her!" exclaimed the admiring girl.
+"Ain't she cute? What kind of folks must she have
+to let such a poor little innocent travel alone? I
+don't believe she's obstinate. That assistant inspector
+is as hateful as he can be. Come, sissy,
+and I'll show you to your room," and she approached
+'Tilda Jane, and took her by the hand.</p>
+
+<p>The latter pointed to her dog, and not until she
+had seen him satisfy the demands of his appetite,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+would she consent to follow her guide to a neat
+little apartment in the top of the wooden hotel.</p>
+
+<p>Upon arriving there, she thanked the girl by
+a smile, closed the door, and, throwing herself on
+her bed, was soon buried in sweet and wholesome
+slumber.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER VII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">CLEARING UP A MISTAKE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>That evening, when some of the custom-house
+officials and some of the guests of the hotel were
+sitting tipped back in chairs in the smoking-room,
+the assistant inspector said to the inspector, who
+had just come in, "I couldn't make anything of
+your deaf and dumb kid, Jack."</p>
+
+<p>"What deaf and dumb kid?" asked Jack, seating
+himself, and drawing out his cigar case.</p>
+
+<p>"That young one with the bundle."</p>
+
+<p>"She ain't deaf and dumb. Her tongue's hung
+as limber as yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I swan!" said the assistant inspector,
+blankly, and, as he spoke, he brought his chair
+down on its four legs, and gazed about the room
+with an expression of such utter helplessness that
+the other men broke into a roar of laughter.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Don't cry, Blakeman," said Jack, soothingly.
+"It's only once in a coon's age you're fooled."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you suppose the slyboots has gone to bed?"
+asked Blakeman, again tipping back his chair, and
+returning to his professional manner. "Uncle Sam
+hasn't got any spare cash to waste on such like.
+Just open the door, Rufus, and see if you see any
+of the girls about."</p>
+
+<p>A dining-room girl good-naturedly consented to
+go in search of 'Tilda Jane, and upon entering the
+room found her on her knees thoughtfully looking
+down at the railway tracks running close to the
+hotel.</p>
+
+<p>Stepping forward and gently touching her shoulder,
+the girl pointed down-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane nodded, smiled, and, taking her hand,
+went out into the hall and down the staircases with
+her. 'Tilda Jane stared at the ring of men sitting
+in the smoking-room. When she caught sight of
+her friend of the morning, she smiled and bobbed
+her head at him, then, letting her dog slip from her
+arm to the floor, she stood in silence, waiting to be
+questioned.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She had no doubt that this was some special tribunal
+called together to deliberate upon her case. She
+was not afraid of these men, they had kindly faces.</p>
+
+<p>"What made you pretend you were deaf and
+dumb?" asked the inspector, at last.</p>
+
+<p>She opened her mouth once or twice, tried to
+speak, failed, and at last articulated with difficulty,
+and with an air of genuine surprise, "Why&mdash;ain't
+I deef an' dumb? I ain't spoke ever since he made
+me think so till now," and she nodded toward the
+assistant inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"I made you think so!" ejaculated Blakeman,
+irritably.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," she said, dreamily, and lingering over
+her syllables as if she found a new pleasure in the
+exercise of speech. "You had so much to say, an'
+the other people had so much to say, that the room
+seemed chock full o' words. They was flyin' round
+ever so thick, but I couldn't ketch one o' them."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, you've got to quit lying and tell us
+where you come from," said the assistant inspector,
+roughly. "You've got to be sent home to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Sent home?" she repeated wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;to Canada. Now tell us the name of
+the place you belong to, or we'll ship you to some
+poorhouse."</p>
+
+<p>"Do I come from Canada?" she asked, with a
+mystified air.</p>
+
+<p>Jack jogged his assistant's elbow. "Seemed to
+me there was the smell of a ship about her."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so," responded Blakeman who prided himself
+on distinguishing nationalities. "She hasn't
+any European accent. She's from right over the
+border here somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know my mother?" 'Tilda Jane was
+eagerly asking the assistant inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;know her well. If you don't speak up
+I'll telegraph her."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll never speak then," said 'Tilda Jane,
+taking a step forward and clasping her hands painfully.
+"Oh, sir, do telegraph to my mother. I've
+cried an' cried at nights 'bout her. Other girls has
+mothers that loves 'em an' strokes their hair, an'
+nobody ever done that to me. They just thinks I'm
+ugly. Oh, sir, oh, sir, won't you telegraph my
+mother?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Blakeman had gone too far. The sentiment of the
+meeting was against him, and a low murmur warned
+him to retract what he had said.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean your mother," he said, sulkily. "I
+mean your guardians."</p>
+
+<p>"The lady-boards?" asked 'Tilda Jane, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>He did not know what "lady-boards" meant, but
+his silence seemed to give assent to her question,
+and losing the bright flush that had come to her
+face, she relapsed into painful and profound silence.</p>
+
+<p>He would never know how he had hurt her. Oh!
+what hopes he had raised, and in an instant dashed
+to the ground, and checking the convulsion in her
+throat, she stealthily wiped away the two tears of
+distress coursing down her thin cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't cry," said Jack, kindly. "I expect you're
+tired from your trip in the train yesterday. You
+had a pretty long one, hadn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mr. Jack," she said, humbly. "It seemed
+kind o' long, but I'm not used to bein' drug along
+so mighty quick."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't notice her till we passed McAdam
+Junction," whispered Jack to his assistant. "She's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
+come down from some place in New Brunswick.
+Telegraph McAdam."</p>
+
+<p>"They'll not know," growled Blakeman. "Robinson
+on yesterday's Montreal express is the man.
+He'll be back to-night. He'll know where she got
+on. If he'd reported, 'twould have saved this."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess he didn't think we'd struck such an
+obstacle," remarked Jack, with a chuckle. Then he
+said aloud, "Don't you suppose they'll be worrying
+about you, sissy?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," she said, meekly, "they'll be more mad
+than worried."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't lost that paper with the address,
+have you?" said Jack, cunningly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," and she put her hand to her breast.</p>
+
+<p>He got up and walked toward her. "Let me see
+if I can read it."</p>
+
+<p>"There's no 'casion for that," she said, with
+dignity.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll have to let me see it," he said, firmly, so
+firmly that it being no part of her plan to "<ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'dare the undarable'">dare the
+undareable</ins>," she quietly handed Hank's card to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset, Maine," he read, then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
+he gave it back to her. "Thank you, sissy. I
+guess you can go to bed now."</p>
+
+<p>"In a minute," said 'Tilda Jane, submissively,
+while she made a queer bob of a curtsey to all
+present. "Gen'l'men all&mdash;before I go I must say
+somethin'. Up-stairs jus' now I was ponderin' on my
+wickedness. I guess you think I don't know that all
+liars has their portion in the lake o' fire an' brimstone.
+I knows it an' feels it, but gen'l'men I ain't
+told no more lies nor I could help. That 'bout bein'
+deef an' dumb I can't call a lie, 'cause I felt it, an'
+I'm s'prised now to hear myself talk. But I have
+told lies, an' I know it. To-day I had a boss dinner.
+I went to sleep an' on my bed I dreamed. Somethin'
+roared an' shook the house an' I woke in a
+sweat. Did I think the devil had come after me?
+Yes, sirs&mdash;gen'l'men, I've been awful bad, I don't
+s'pose any of you knows what such badness is. I'm
+afeared I've got to go on lyin' till I like lies better'n
+truth. That's what the&mdash;what ladies I has known
+said would happen to little girls as stepped aside
+from the paths of righteousness."</p>
+
+<p>The men were all staring at her, the assistant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+inspector most intently, for this flow of language
+from the supposedly deaf and dumb child surprised
+even him&mdash;a man used to surprises.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm goin' to repent some day," continued 'Tilda
+Jane, sadly, "just as soon as I get out o' this, an'
+enjoyin' fam'ly life. I'm goin' to repent of all 'cept
+one thing, an' I can't repent 'bout that 'cause I
+dunno if it's wrong. Do you like dogs?" and she
+abruptly addressed the assistant inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, brusquely.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you like?" she went on, wistfully,
+"cats, birds, children&mdash;do you like girls, sir, nice
+little girls with blue eyes an' curly hair?"</p>
+
+<p>The assistant inspector was a remarkably fine
+blond specimen of a man, and, as he was popular
+among the young women of the neighbourhood,
+'Tilda Jane's artless question produced a burst of
+laughter from his companions, and a furious flaming
+of colour in his own face.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p092" id="p092"></a>
+<img src="images/p092.jpg" width="500" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'I'M GOIN' TO REPENT SOME DAY.'"</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Her question had gone home, and she proceeded.
+"Suppose you had a nice little girl an' some one wanted
+to take her away, an' frighten her, an' tie jinglin' things
+to her an' make her run, an' you'd ketch her up an'
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>run off to the woods, would that be awful wicked,
+do you s'pose, an' would you have to repent?"</p>
+
+<p>The assistant inspector preserved a discreet and
+resentful silence, but two or three of his companions
+murmured between their pipe-stems and their lips,
+"Not much he wouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Now that's what troubles me," 'Tilda Jane continued.
+"The rest is bad, but is that bad? I guess
+I'll have to ask some minister, an', gen'l'men all,
+I guess you'd better let me go on to Ciscasset.
+You've got a nice place here, an' plenty o' things
+to eat, an' I think you're very fair, but I feel like
+movin' on," and pausing, she anxiously scanned the
+row of faces about her.</p>
+
+<p>"Run away to bed now," said Jack. "We'll tell
+you to-morrow what you're to do," and as 'Tilda
+Jane picked up her pet and disappeared, he sauntered
+across the room, took up a telegraph form, and
+addressed a message to the creamery shark's father.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot fs80">
+
+<p>"Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset. Girl, age about twelve. Dark
+hair, eyes&mdash;run away from place unknown. Going to your
+address. Held as immigrant without means. Refuses to give
+name. Can you supply any information? Answer paid for."</p></div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">A THIRD RUNNING AWAY.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>"Look here, little girl," said Jack, stopping 'Tilda
+Jane as she was coming out of the dining-room the
+next morning, "I've had a telegram from your friend
+in Ciscasset."</p>
+
+<p>"An' what does he say?" she asked, breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll read it," and he drew a paper from his
+pocket. "Never heard of girl. Don't want her.
+Hobart Dillson."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane looked crestfallen, but did not flinch
+in face of the new difficulty. "He's a cranky ole
+man. He'll be all right when I talk to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you're a queer fish," muttered her friend,
+as by way of hiding her chagrin she went quickly
+up-stairs. "We can't do anything with you till
+Robinson gets back, and tells us where he picked
+you up."</p>
+
+<p>The assistant inspector met her in the hall above.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+"Have you made up your mind to talk yet?" he
+asked, austerely.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been amusing myself by telegraphing along
+the line," he said, in the same tone of voice. "None
+of the stations know anything about you, and the
+agent at McAdam has started off in the woods for
+his holidays. The conductor that brought you is
+laid up from an accident to his train, so you've got
+to speak for yourself; and do you know what I've
+made up my mind to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," she said, steadily.</p>
+
+<p>"By to-night if you won't tell me where you
+come from, I'm going to take that dog away from
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Her face turned a sickly yellow, but she did not
+quail. "You wouldn't shoot him, would you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I won't shoot him," he said, deliberately.
+"I guess I'd give him to some nice little girl who
+wouldn't tell lies."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane's head sank on her breast. "Gimme
+till to-morrow morning, sir. I'd like to think it
+over."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'll see about it," he said, with a curious glance
+at her; then he went away.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane knew that he would give her till the
+morning. She would not be troubled by him all
+day. She would have time to think. The worst
+difficulty in her experience confronted her. She
+would lose her dog in any case. To speak was to
+be sent back to the asylum, to remain silent was
+to let her Gippie become the cherished darling of
+some other girl, and in mute agony she caressed
+the smooth brown head, and put her hand before
+the almost sightless eyes as if she would hide from
+them even a suspicion of coming danger.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jack had just stepped on one of the out-going
+trains. She could not appeal to him, and the
+table-girls, since they had found that she was a
+story-teller, slighted her in a most marked way.</p>
+
+<p>She wandered down-stairs and out-of-doors. All
+day she loitered about the station platform watching
+the trains come in,&mdash;deliberate freight-trains,
+with their loads of merchandise, all to be examined
+by the busy customs officials, and rushing express
+trains, with their hundreds of hungry passengers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
+who swept in crowds into the spacious dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>She saw her companions in captivity borne away.
+The fashionable lady got on a train that was entering
+Canada, and the dismal boy and girl followed
+her. The little German Jew, who had been roaming
+about the hotel like a restless ghost, always with
+his hat on and a bundle in his hand as if he wished
+to impress all beholders with the fact that he was
+only tarrying for a short time, had, on the receipt
+of a telegram informing the inspectors that he had
+merely forgotten his papers, become a happy maniac.
+He ran to and fro, he collected his bundles, dropped
+them, to kiss the hand of a table-girl who gave him
+some cakes for his lunch, and had to be restrained
+by main force from boarding every train that pulled
+up at the station.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunate travellers and unfortunate orphan!
+She could not get on one of the trains and be borne
+away. She was watched; she felt it, for she had
+now a perfect comprehension of the system of
+espionage established over unsuspecting travellers.
+The rich and well-dressed ones were passed by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+unless they were wearing sealskin wraps, the poor
+and penniless must give an account of themselves.
+So there was no escape for her by train. She must
+take to the road.</p>
+
+<p>She had better go lie down and try to sleep, she
+reflected with a shudder, as she had now before her
+the prospect of another night in the woods. As
+soon as it got dark, she must try to slip away from
+the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>At six o'clock she had had her nap and was in
+her favourite spot on her knees by her open window.
+Night was approaching, and she felt neither sorry,
+nor frightened, nor apprehensive. The sun was
+going down, and she was so completely wrapped in
+deep and silent content that she could neither speak
+nor think. She did not know that she was an ardent
+lover of nature&mdash;that her whole soul was at the
+present moment so filled with the glory of the winter
+evening that she had no room for her own troubles.</p>
+
+<p>The clanging supper-bell disturbed her, and, with
+a sigh and a look of longing farewell at the sky,
+she closed the window and made her way to the
+dining-room.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>After supper she returned to her post, and, as
+she could not now see the glorious sky and the
+snowy fields, she let her attention fall upon the
+trains below that had begun to have a strange
+fascination for her. She had lost all fear of them
+by this time, and had even begun to notice that
+there were differences in them just as there were
+differences in people. Some were big and bulky,
+others were quick and dashing. Some had hoarse
+voices, some clear ones. The Canadian engines
+coming in shrieked in one tone, the American ones,
+passing them from the other direction, replied in
+another.</p>
+
+<p>Hour after hour went by, and with the time her
+sense of dreamy contentment faded away. It gave
+her but little dismay to look out into the starlit
+night and fancy herself alone in snowy solitudes,
+but it gave her considerable dismay to look down
+below, and find that the hotel was neither getting
+dark nor perfectly quiet, as she fancied all well-regulated
+houses did at night. She had forgotten
+that they could not sleep here, at least everybody
+could not. Trains were coming and going all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+time, and with this constant supervision below, how
+could she evade detection?</p>
+
+<p>"Number seventeen is an hour late and getting
+later every minute," she heard some one call after
+a time; "bad snow-drifts up north."</p>
+
+<p>"Guess I'll take a wink of sleep," a tired voice
+responded, "there'll be nothing but freights for a
+spell," and then followed comparative silence.</p>
+
+<p>Footsteps were only occasionally heard, fewer
+lights flashed in the distance, and it was only at
+much longer intervals that passing trains shook
+the house. There was a lull in the constant
+noises, and now was the time for action. She
+rose stealthily, and took her dog in her arms&mdash;a
+pathetic child figure no longer, but a wary, stealthy
+little elf endeavouring to escape from danger
+threatened by these larger and more powerful
+human beings.</p>
+
+<p>Her sleeping-room was a tiny chamber opening
+out of one occupied by two of the dining-room
+girls. She was not afraid of their waking. She
+had heard them say as they undressed that they had
+to get up at half-past four to iron table-cloths and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+napkins, and there was not an instant's interruption
+of their heavy, dreamless slumber as she stole noiselessly
+by them.</p>
+
+<p>Now for the staircase. She paused anxiously at
+the top, and looked down. There was no one in
+sight, and holding her breath, and tiptoeing cautiously,
+she stole down step by step.</p>
+
+<p>At last she was at the bottom of both flights of
+stairs. So far so good, and she laid her hand on
+the knob of the front door that was never locked.
+But stop, let her pause&mdash;there were sounds outside.</p>
+
+<p>Some one out there hesitated, halted, and remarked
+to some other person behind, "Will you
+come in and have a bite of something to eat?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane scarcely dared to breathe, and, gazing
+down the hall behind her, shook in her substantial
+shoes. She could see the office at the end of the
+hall, and the sleepy clerk napping at his desk. If
+she retreated toward him, he might wake up and
+discover her, and if the men entered she could not
+possibly avoid being caught by them.</p>
+
+<p>In intense anxiety she awaited results. There
+were only a few seconds of uncertainty, then her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+heart gave a bound of thankfulness. The footsteps
+had passed on, and only waiting till they died away,
+she opened the door and glided through.</p>
+
+<p>Now she was on the brightly lighted platform at
+the mercy of any passer-by, or any wakeful person
+who might be at one of the hotel windows. She
+made one swift rush across it, one leap over the
+railway tracks, and with a stifled exclamation of
+thankfulness found herself on the village road.</p>
+
+<p>Like a dark, diminutive ghost she sped up the
+hill past the silent houses. Now she was comparatively
+safe, yet which way should she go? She was
+completely puzzled, yet she had a vague idea that
+there were great forests surrounding Vanceboro, for
+she had heard the men at the hotel talk of fishing
+and shooting.</p>
+
+<p>Trembling in every limb from excitement, and
+pressing her precious bundle closely to her, she took
+a road to the left. She must not go to the right,
+for across the river was Canada, and if she got into
+that foreign country again, she would have fresh
+difficulties in returning to her own native one. She
+would press on through the village, take to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+woods, and trust to luck to find some house where
+she could ask the way to Ciscasset.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moon to-night, an old, pale moon,
+and it cast a tremulous light over the soft, white
+fields sloping down to the Sainte-Croix River, the
+sleeping village, and the brightly lighted station yard
+in the hollow. She turned around, took one farewell
+glance at the habitations of men, and plunged into
+the winding road leading into the heart of the forest.</p>
+
+<p>Hour after hour she plodded on. This reminded
+her of her walk with Ruth Ann two evenings before,
+only here there was more light, the snow was deeper,
+and the trees were not as high as those on the way
+to the Moss Glen station. She hoped with a shiver
+that she should meet no wild beasts. Hark! What
+was that crashing through the alder bushes? She
+stopped short, clasped her dog to her breast, and
+looked about for some means of defence. Nothing
+offered but a dry tree branch, and she was just
+bending over to seize it when there rushed by her,
+so quickly that she had no time to be afraid, an
+object that caused a faint smile of pleasure to come
+to her pale lips.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This was a large deerhound running along with
+his nose to the snow, and he paid no more attention
+to her than if she had been one of the stumps by
+the side of the road.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, doggie, doggie!" she called, wistfully, but
+he did not return, and, startled by the sound of her
+voice in the intense stillness, she hastily resumed
+her way.</p>
+
+<p>How solemn the moon was, staring down at her
+with that section of a face on which she fancied she
+saw an ear, the corner of a mouth, and one terrible,
+glistening eye. "Little girl, where are you going?
+Are you doing right? Are you not a naughty little
+girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't think about it now," she said, desperately.
+"When I git settled down I'll square things
+up. Anyway, I'm not bad for the fun of it. Law
+me, ain't this road long! Here, Gippie, I guess you
+might walk a few steps. Keep in my tracks an' I'll
+not let anythin' hurt you. If a bear comes, he'll
+eat me first. It'll do you good to stretch your legs
+a mite."</p>
+
+<p>Away back in the hotel Mr. Jack was just getting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+home. "We can let our deaf and dumb kid go in
+the morning," he said to his assistant, who got on
+the train as he left it. "The waitress at McAdam
+was just inquiring about her&mdash;says she's U. S.
+all right. Came from Moss Glen station, didn't
+know Ciscasset when she got to it, and was carried
+on. Agent forgot to speak to Robinson about her,
+and the waitress wanted to know if she got through
+all right."</p>
+
+<p>"U. S.," grumbled the assistant inspector, pausing
+with his foot on the steps of the baggage-car, "why
+didn't she say so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Was frightened&mdash;I guess she'd run away&mdash;a
+case of innocence abroad."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we can't hold her if she isn't an immigrant,"
+said Blakeman, with relief. "Let her go.
+They've got a poorhouse in Ciscasset, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"She'll go in no poorhouse," said Mr. Jack, with
+a chuckle. "She's too smart."</p>
+
+<p>If he could have seen at that moment the weary
+little figure toiling along the forest road, he would
+have uttered the appreciative adjective with even
+more energy. Tired, hungry, occasionally stooping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+to lift a handful of snow to her lips, 'Tilda Jane
+plodded on. Her thin figure was bent from fatigue.
+She had again picked up the wailing dog, and had
+slung him on her back in the shawl, yet there was
+not the slightest indication of faltering in her aspect.
+There were no clearings in the woods, no promise
+of settlement, yet her face was ever toward the
+promised land of Ciscasset, and her back to the
+place of captivity in Vanceboro.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER IX.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">LOST IN THE WOODS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Nothing could be more exquisitely beautiful than
+that winter morning in the Maine woods. The
+white glory of the snow, the stealing pink and gold
+glances of the sun, the bravery of the trees proudly
+rearing their heads aloft and stretching out their
+heavily laden arms,&mdash;all made a picture that filled
+with awe even the heart of rough Bob Lucas, unregistered
+guide and nominal lumberman, noted for his
+skill as hunter and poacher and his queer mingling
+of honesty, law-breaking, piety, and profanity.</p>
+
+<p>No, it was not a picture, it was reality, and he was
+a part of it. He was in it, he belonged to this
+glorious morning, the morning belonged to him, and
+he put up his hand and pulled off his cap.</p>
+
+<p>"Branching candlesticks on the altar of the
+Lord," he muttered as he surveyed the trees. "I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+feel like a vessel o' grace, more's the pity I can't
+take on the actions o' one."</p>
+
+<p>He stood lounging in the cabin door&mdash;red-haired,
+long-nosed, unkempt, and stalwart. Inside were his
+two sons getting the breakfast, and the appetising
+odour of frying bacon floated out on the fresh
+air.</p>
+
+<p>"Hi, Poacher&mdash;whot's up with you?" he suddenly
+exclaimed, and his gaze went to a deerhound
+of unusually sturdy build, who was ploughing
+through the snow toward the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>The dog wagged his tail, advanced, and, lifting
+toward him a countenance so bright with intelligence
+that it might almost be called human, opened
+his mouth, and dropped something at his master's
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, boys!" said the man, stepping inside the
+cabin; "what in the name o' creation's this? I
+call it a morsel of woman's togs. Don't your
+mother wear aprons like it, or somethin'?"</p>
+
+<p>The two strapping lads in high boots and woollen
+shirts turned their red faces from the fireplace.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, siree," said the taller of them, fingering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+the scrap of cotton; "they call it something like
+jingo."</p>
+
+<p>"Gingham, you gull," interposed his brother, with
+a guffaw of laughter. "I've seen it in the stores.
+Where'd you get it, pop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Poacher fetched it. When I got out o' my
+bunk this mornin' an' opened the door, he put up
+that ole muzzle of his an' give a sniff. Then off
+he sot. I knew he'd got somethin' on his mind.
+He's been runnin' deer, an' he found this on his
+way back."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a beaut," said the other lad, eyeing him
+admiringly. "He's nosed out something. What'll
+you do, pop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Swaller some breakfast an' make tracks for
+Morse's camp."</p>
+
+<p>"S'pose it was some person," said the younger of
+the boys, uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"By gum!" and the man suddenly smote his
+thigh, "s'pose the ole woman had run after us with
+somethin'. Hustle on your coats, boys. Mebbe it's
+your ma."</p>
+
+<p>The faces of both boys had turned white, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+their hands were shaking. Seizing their coats, they
+rushed out of the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"Pop, it wasn't bitter last night," said the younger,
+in a hushed voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up!" said his father, irritably, and in profound
+silence the three proceeded through the wood
+in single file, following the dog who, without excitement,
+but with his dark face beaming with pleasure
+at being understood, rapidly led them over his own
+tracks of a few minutes previous.</p>
+
+<p>Mile after mile they went in silence, until at last
+the father, who was leading, made a leap forward.</p>
+
+<p>There was a dark mound on the snow against a
+tree trunk, and dropping beside it he turned it over.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank the Lord!" he ejaculated, while scratching
+and beating the snow away from it, "it ain't
+what I feared."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's only a gal," said one of the boys. "Is
+she gone, pop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here&mdash;shake her up," he replied. "What's
+this she's curled round? A dog, sure as thunder,
+an' alive an' warm. Merciful grindstones, look at
+him!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Irritably stepping out of wrappings, consisting of
+a small tippet and a shawl, was a little old dog, the
+most utter contrast to the handsome deerhound that
+could have been imagined.</p>
+
+<p>The hound stared inquiringly and politely at Gippie,
+and, being a denizen of the woods, made the
+first overtures to friendship by politely touching him
+with the end of his muzzle.</p>
+
+<p>The smaller dog snapped at him, whereupon the
+hound withdrew in dignified silence, and watched his
+owners, who were making vigorous efforts to restore
+the benumbed girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Her heart's beatin'," said Lucas, putting his
+hand on it. "The dog lay there, an' kep' it warm."</p>
+
+<p>"Rub her feet&mdash;rub harder," he said to his sons,
+while he himself began chafing 'Tilda Jane's wrists.
+"She's jist the age o' your sister Min. S'pose she
+was here, stone cold an' half dead!"</p>
+
+<p>The boys redoubled their efforts at resuscitation,
+and presently a faint colour appeared in the little
+girl's marble cheeks, and the cold lips slightly moved.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas put his head down. "What you sayin'?
+Dog, is it? He's all right. If you'd wrapped your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>self
+more, an' him less, it might 'a' bin better. Yet,
+I guess not. If it hadn't 'a' bin for the dog, you'd
+'a' bin dead. Put on her shoes, boys. We'll carry
+her to that heap o' logs of ours."</p>
+
+<p>"Pop, will one of us have to show her out?" said
+Joe, anxiously pressing beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yep," said his father. "Here, strip off your
+coat an' put it round her."</p>
+
+<p>"An' I s'pose I'll hev to go 'cause I'm the youngest,"
+said the boy, bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir&mdash;you're always doin' dirty work. This
+time it'll be Zebedee."</p>
+
+<p>Zebedee frowned, and muttered that he wished
+girls would stay out o' the woods; then he tramped
+on beside his brother.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, gimme my gun," said Lucas, presently.
+"You-uns is younger. You kin carry the gal."</p>
+
+<p>He had been carrying 'Tilda Jane over his shoulder,
+and now the little procession started again, this
+time with the boys bearing the semi-unconscious
+burden.</p>
+
+<p>Gippie, squealing and complaining, followed behind
+as well as he was able, but finally, becoming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+stuck in a drift, gave a despairing yell and disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas turned around, went in the direction of
+the crooked tail sticking up from the snow, and
+pulling him out, contemptuously took him under
+his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"If you was my dog, you'd get a bullet to eat.
+Howsomever, you ain't, an' I guess we'll hev to
+keep you for the leetle gal. Git on thar, sons."</p>
+
+<p>Two hours later, 'Tilda Jane opened her eyes on
+a new world. Where had her adventures brought
+her this time? Had she died and gone to heaven?
+No, this must be earth, for she had just heard a
+string of very bad words uttered by some one near
+her. But she could not think about anything. A
+feeling of delicious languor overpowered her, and
+slowly opening and shutting her eyes, she little by
+little allowed her surroundings to impress themselves
+upon her.</p>
+
+<p>She was very warm and comfortable; she was
+sitting on the floor, propped against the wall by
+means of an overturned chair and blankets; a fire
+in an open fireplace blazed beside her; Gippie was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+making his toilet before this fire, and she was very
+happy.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, sup this," some one said, and languidly
+lifting her eyelids, she saw a big red-haired man
+bending over her.</p>
+
+<p>He was holding a cup to her lips&mdash;coffee sweetened
+with molasses. Just what they used to have
+at the asylum, and with a faint smile, and a feeble
+"Thank you, sir," she slowly swallowed it.</p>
+
+<p>"I was scared to give you any before," he said,
+gruffly; "thought you might choke. Here, gimme
+some grub, sons."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane felt a morsel of something put in her
+mouth. It was followed by another morsel of something
+hot and savoury, and speedily she felt new life
+in her veins. She could sit up now, and look about
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Guess you can feed yourself," said the man,
+going back to the table. "Fall to now&mdash;you most
+got to the end of your tether."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane took the two-pronged fork he put in
+her hand, and began to eat with slow avidity, not
+disregarding the requests for titbits from her dog,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+who occasionally paused for that purpose in his
+endeavours to lick himself dry.</p>
+
+<p>At intervals she cast a glance at the centre of
+the cabin, where a man and two boys were seated
+at a rough table. These must be her rescuers. She
+had fallen down in the snow the night before. Not
+even her fear of death had been able to keep her on
+her feet.</p>
+
+<p>She stopped eating. "Who be you?"</p>
+
+<p>"We be lumbermen, when the fit takes us," said
+the man, shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said 'Tilda Jane, "I guess&mdash;" then she
+stopped, overpowered by intense feeling.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess," she went on, finally, "that there
+wouldn't 'a' bin much o' me this morning if it hadn't
+bin for you comin'."</p>
+
+<p>"'Twasn't us," said the man, agreeably, "'twas
+Poacher there," and he indicated the dog under the
+table, who, at the mention of his name, rose and
+walked politely toward the little girl.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her and she looked at him, then he
+took a step nearer and laid his muzzle on her
+shoulder. With exquisite subtlety he comprehended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
+all that she wished to say in relation to himself,
+and all that she felt in relation to the dog race in
+general.</p>
+
+<p>She laid her cheek against his velvet ear. Then
+her arm stole around his neck.</p>
+
+<p>The dog stood in courteous silence, until, feeling
+embarrassed under her attention, he looked somewhat
+foolishly at his master, and appealingly licked
+'Tilda Jane's cheek.</p>
+
+<p>As quick to understand him as he was to understand
+her, she released him, whereupon he lay
+down beside her and put his handsome head on
+her lap.</p>
+
+<p>Gippie extended his muzzle, sniffed suspiciously,
+then his short-sighted eyes discovering the presence
+of a rival, he advanced snapping.</p>
+
+<p>The large dog generously averted his head, and
+Gippie, seeing that he was not to be dislodged,
+meanly curled himself up on Poacher's glossy
+back.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p116" id="p116"></a>
+<img src="images/p116.jpg" width="650" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"HE LAY DOWN BESIDE HER."</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's a boss dog," the man went on.
+"Search the State from Fort Kent to Kittery
+Depot, and you'll not find a cuter. He's given me
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>pointers many a time&mdash;where you hail from, leetle
+gal?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to Ciscasset," she said, dreamily.
+Her mind was running back to the night before,
+and, unaware that she was holding a piece of
+bacon poised on her fork in tempting proximity
+to Poacher's nose, she stared intently at the fire.</p>
+
+<p>She had been near death. Had she been near
+the heaven that the matron and the "lady-boards"
+pictured, or would it have been the other place, on
+account of her disobedience?</p>
+
+<p>"The soul that sinneth it shall die"&mdash;"For whosoever
+shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in
+one point, he is guilty of all"&mdash;"Keep thyself
+pure"&mdash;"For without are dogs, and sorcerers,
+and murderers, and idolaters, and whosoever loveth
+and maketh a lie"&mdash;that meant without the city,
+the beautiful city of gold where her mother probably
+was, and many of her unknown relatives,
+and where all good matrons, orphans, and "lady-boards"
+went.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I'd bin without, with no comfort but
+the dogs," she thought bitterly, and pushing away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
+her plate, she said aloud, "I thank ye kindly, but
+I can't swaller another morsel."</p>
+
+<p>A roar of laughter saluted her ears. Gippie's
+inquiring muzzle had scented out the bacon and
+had seized it, whereupon Poacher, knowing that it
+was not intended for him, had gently but firmly
+taken it from him, and was walking about the
+cabin, holding it aloft, while Gippie snarled at his
+heels.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane paid no attention to them. The
+greater matter of her soul's destiny was under
+consideration. "Are you an extry good man?"
+she abruptly asked her host.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped laughing, and a shadow came over
+his face. Then his glance went to his boys.
+"What you say, sons?"</p>
+
+<p>The boys stared at each other, avoided his eye,
+and said, uneasily, "Course you be, pop&mdash;don't
+make game."</p>
+
+<p>"Make game," repeated the man, strangely,
+"make game," then he laughed shortly, and made
+another onslaught on the bacon and bread.</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause I'm lookin' for an extry good person,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+went on 'Tilda Jane, brusquely. "Some one that
+won't blab, an' that I kin tell a story to."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, thar ain't no extry good persons in the
+woods," said her host, "we be only ordinary. You
+better wait till you git out. What was you doin'
+so far from houses last night, leetle gal, 'stead o'
+bein' tucked snug in bed?"</p>
+
+<p>"I might as well tell the truth," she said, helplessly.
+"I'm tired o' lies. I was runnin' away
+from somethin', but whether my runnin' was good
+or bad is what I can't make out."</p>
+
+<p>"While you're puzzlin' you eat some more breakfus',"
+said the man, getting up and putting another
+supply of bacon on her plate. "You've got to
+call up strength to git out. I s'pose you dunno
+you're some miles from sofas, an' pianos, an' easy
+chairs."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know where I was goin'," she said, apologetically,
+"or what I was comin' to. I jus' travelled
+on an' on. Then I begun to get queery an' I left
+the road. Thinks I, there'll be kind animiles in the
+woods. Mebbe I'll meet a nice black bear, an' he'll
+say, 'Little girl, you're lost an' I'll lead you to my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
+den. We'll be happy to have you an' your little
+dog, an' I'll not let no one eat him, an' I'll give a big
+party an' invite all the foxes, an' deer, an' bears an'
+squirrels 'cause you're fond o' wild beasts, little girl.'
+An' it seemed I'd come to the bear's den, an' there
+was a soft bed, an' I just lay down, an' was goin' to
+sleep when I thought, 'Mebbe if I sleep, some little
+bird'll tell him I'm a baddie, an' he'll eat me up,' an'
+I felt just awful; then I forgot everythin' till I woke
+up here&mdash;I guess I'm obliged to you."</p>
+
+<p>The lumberman was about to reply to her when
+one of the boys ejaculated, "Hist, pop, look at
+Poacher!"</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER X.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">AMONG FRIENDS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The animal had gone to the door, and stood in a
+listening attitude.</p>
+
+<p>"Some one's comin'," said the boy. "Is everythin'
+snug?"</p>
+
+<p>The three cast hurried glances about the room,
+then shaking off a somewhat uneasy expression, the
+man stepped to the one and only window of the
+cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"Game warden Perch," he said, dryly, "and registered
+guide Hersey. Comin' spyin' round&mdash;bad
+luck to 'em," and he sulkily went back to the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>Presently there came a knocking at the door.
+"Come in," bawled Lucas, not inhospitably, and two
+men, much smarter, cleaner, and more dapper-looking
+than the red-haired man and his sons, entered the
+cabin.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Howdye," they said simultaneously, as they stood
+their guns and snow-shoes against the wall, and took
+possession of the two boxes vacated by the boys at a
+sign from their father. Then, with an appearance of
+enjoyment, they dragged the boxes near the fire, and
+stretched out their hands to the blaze.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane saw that they were staring in unmitigated
+astonishment at her, and with a feeling that
+she herself was out of the world and in a place where
+passers-by were few and infrequent, she examined
+them in equal interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Where'd you come from?" asked the elder of
+them at last, fixing her with a pair of piercing
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"She got keeled over on the old road last night,"
+spoke up Lucas, much to her relief. "Lost her
+way. Dog here, found her," and he motioned toward
+Poacher, who was surveying the newcomers in cold
+curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>Warden Perch's attention being drawn to the dog,
+he stared at him earnestly, then turned to his companion.
+"Ever see that animal before?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not near at hand," said the other, with a slight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+sneer. "Guess' I've seen his hind legs and the tip
+of his tail once or twice."</p>
+
+<p>"Hev some breakfus?" said Lucas, who was imperturbably
+going on with his own.</p>
+
+<p>Warden Perch inspected the table. "Not on bacon&mdash;haven't
+you got something more uncommon?"</p>
+
+<p>"We've got some beans in thar," said Lucas, with
+a backward nod of his head toward a bag on the
+floor, "coarse brown beans. They might be a treat
+for ye, seein' ye don't git 'em much in hotels."</p>
+
+<p>Perch flushed angrily and opened his mouth as if
+to make a retort. Then he drew a blank book from
+his pocket, and to calm himself ran his eye over the
+report he was making for the game commissioner of
+the State.</p>
+
+<p>"Left Nexter 10.55 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span> March 1, for Bluefield.
+March 2 at Bearville 11.30 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span> Jim Greene's camp
+Lake Clear at 4.35 <span class="fs70">P. M.</span> March 3 left camp at 7 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span>
+Bill Emerson's camp 9.47 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span> Reached moose yard
+on back side Fern Brook Ridge 1.47 <span class="fs70">P. M.</span> 3 moose
+in yard&mdash;Henry," he said, lifting his head and
+abruptly addressing his companion, "some of those
+poachers have mighty cute tricks."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Henry nodded assent.</p>
+
+<p>"Those fellows at Hacmactac Station tried hard
+to fool us last week,&mdash;cut the legs off the deer, then
+got a couple of bears' feet and had the bone of the
+bear's leg slipped up under the skin on the leg of the
+deer. Then they put them up so sly in three layers
+of bagging with nothing but bears' feet sticking out,
+but I caught on to those bears' legs, and said the
+feet weren't big enough. So I had it opened and
+took the deer and the fellows to Mattawamkeag, and
+I guess they think forty dollars apiece was just about
+enough for a fine."</p>
+
+<p>Lucas and his sons burst out laughing, and 'Tilda
+Jane shrewdly suspected by their amused faces and
+knowing glances that they had heard the story before.
+There was no love lost between these newcomers
+and her preservers, and Lucas and his sons
+would be glad when their callers left the cabin. But
+what was all this talk about deer? Surely they did
+not kill the pretty creatures whom without having
+seen she loved.</p>
+
+<p>She cleared her throat and in a weak little voice
+addressed the game warden. "Sir, I've got pictures<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
+in my joggafry of deer with branching horns. Does
+bad men kill them?"</p>
+
+<p>Warden Perch gave her another alert glance.
+Here was no confederate of poachers. "Yes," he
+said, severely, "bad men do kill them, and dogs chase
+them, but mind this, young girl&mdash;poachers get
+nabbed in the long run. They slide for a time, but
+there's a trip-up at the end. And their dogs, too&mdash;I've
+shot three hounds this week for dogging
+deer."</p>
+
+<p>"You have shot dogs!" repeated 'Tilda Jane, in
+a horrified tone, and pressing Gippie closer to her.</p>
+
+<p>"If I didn't shoot them, they'd kill the deer," said
+the man, irritably.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" murmured 'Tilda Jane. Here was one
+of the mysteries of nature that was quite beyond her
+comprehension. The dog hunted the deer, and the
+man hunted the dog. The deer apparently was the
+weaker one, and she must inquire into the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"What does bad men kill deer for?" she asked,
+timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't you ever eaten any deer meat?" asked
+the warden.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know it was good to eat," she said,
+sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't had any here in this cabin?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess not, unless I might 'a' eat it when I was
+fainty."</p>
+
+<p>Lucas eyed her peculiarly, and the meaning of the
+warden's question and offensive manner burst upon
+her. "That's a good man," she said, indignantly,
+starting from her half-reclining position and pointing
+to Lucas. "I guess men that takes little girls out
+o' snow-banks don't kill deer."</p>
+
+<p>Warden Perch laughed and rose from his seat.
+He had very little sentiment with regard to the
+animal creation. "I calculate we'd better be moving,"
+he said, to the guide. "Don't suppose we'd
+see anything to keep us here, unless we'd hang on
+for the big snow-storm they say is coming, and that
+I expect you're waiting for," and he looked at Lucas.</p>
+
+<p>"Me an' my sons," said the latter, coolly, "is on
+our way to David Morse's lumber camp. Two of
+his hands had to come out 'count o' sickness. We
+lay out to git thar this evenin'. Was late in startin'
+last night, an' camped here. We'll hev to git this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+leetle gal out, 'thout you might undertake it, seein'
+as you're makin' for outside, I s'pose."</p>
+
+<p>"Get your own find out," said the warden, severely;
+"it will keep you out of mischief, and look
+here&mdash;if I find that dog of yours up to tricks, you
+know what I'll do."</p>
+
+<p>"Shoot him on sight," said Lucas, stooping and
+patting the animal who was pressing close to him;
+"but you'll never ketch him, 'cause he ain't the sort
+o' dog to be ketched in any kind o' mischief; hey,
+Poacher?"</p>
+
+<p>The guide went out, and the warden with a scowl
+followed, slamming the door after him.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas and his sons crowded to the window to see
+their callers depart, and when they were fairly out
+of sight, they burst into relieved laughter, and noisily
+drew their boxes up to the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, pop, ain't he mad?" remarked Joe, excitedly.
+"Mad 'cause you're too cute for him.
+He'd give his teeth to fasten something on to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up," said his father, with a roll of his eye
+toward 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>The girl was puzzled. Lucas, who seemed a nice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+man, was treated as if he were not a friend to the
+deer, while the departed ones, whom she did not like
+at all, seemed to be their protectors. "Who are
+those men?" she asked, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, I'll tell you," said Lucas, taking two moose
+ear skins from his pocket, and fitting them together
+to make a tobacco-pouch, "them two is fancy game
+men. The warden an' the guide likes to lounge in
+easy chairs round hotels an' tell of their doin's in
+the woods, how the poachers tremble an' run when
+they see 'em comin'. As a rule, they don't take to
+the woods till they're druv to it by some complaint.
+Then they're awful fierce, an' growl an' show their
+teeth, an' run home. Nobody don't care nothin'
+for 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"Are there many men killing deer?" asked the
+little girl, falteringly.</p>
+
+<p>"Many men!" groaned Lucas. "Law me, what
+a question! Las' year, leetle gal, thar was awful
+heavy snow, eight foot deep in Franklin County,
+seven foot in Somerset, Piscataquis, Penobscot, and
+Aroostook. What a year for big game! They
+couldn't git away. They was as helpless as sheep.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+Storm came on storm, till we was walkin' up among
+the tree branches and knockin' off the snow with
+a stick. Snow covered tracks, and poachers took
+possession o' the airth."</p>
+
+<p>"They lived high in the lumber camps, pop, do
+you mind?" said Zebedee, smacking his lips.
+"When a fellow was starvin' the smell just come
+out to meet him."</p>
+
+<p>"You bet, only you wasn't thar to smell it," said
+his father, sharply, "you mind that. You young
+ones takes to the woods too natural."</p>
+
+<p>He surveyed them with mingled pride and dissatisfaction,
+then came back to his reminiscences. "I
+vum that was a winter, but the deer would 'a' starved
+if they hadn't been shot, for the snow was so deep
+that they couldn't get to their food. That there
+Perch made a great flurry about gettin' in an'
+drivin' six deer to a swamp where they could git
+green stuff, but I don't believe a word of it. I believe
+he shot and ate them."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mind the deer that was dogged into our
+yard, pop?" exclaimed Joe. "I saw 'em as they
+crossed the river&mdash;dog not fifteen foot behind."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And what became of that deer?" asked 'Tilda
+Jane, unsteadily.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas winked at his sons and concluded the story
+himself. "He run across our yard, an' among the
+bark pilers at Meek an' Sons' tannery. When the
+animal come runnin' down between the bark piles,
+some of the crew was for killin' him, but I was
+workin' thar, an' I wouldn't let 'em. He stayed
+round close to us all day, an' when any dog come
+an' sniffed at him, he'd run up close an' tremble,
+an' ask us to see fair play."</p>
+
+<p>"You killed that deer," exclaimed 'Tilda Jane,
+bursting into tears. "Oh! why does God let men
+be so wicked?"</p>
+
+<p>Sobs were almost tearing her little, lean frame to
+pieces. She had not worked up gradually to a
+pitch of emotion, but had fallen immediately into it,
+and Lucas and his sons stared wonderingly at her.</p>
+
+<p>Poor little girl! She looked as if she had come
+through a sea of troubles, and pity stirred in the
+man's rough but not unkindly breast.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up now, shut up, missy," he said, soothingly.
+"We did shoot that feller, but thar warn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+nowhere to keep him, but deer has bin kep'. Soft
+now, an' I'll tell ye of Seth Winthrop, who has a
+park an' is a rich man. Las' year, when you couldn't
+go scarce five mile without seein' tracks o' blood in
+the snow where some one had been slaughterin', a
+moose was chased near Winthrop's place. He was
+so dead beat that he jus' stood an' trembled, an' one
+o' Winthrop's men put a halter on him, an' led him
+to the barnyard an' give him fodder an' drink, an'
+that livin' young moose is in Winthrop's park to-day,
+an' he weighs four hundred pound."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was still sobbing, and Joe nudged his
+father. "Tell her 'bout the bear, pop."</p>
+
+<p>"Now here's somethin' that'll make you laugh,"
+said Lucas, kindly. "It's about a bad bear that
+went an' got drunk. I was on a fishin' trip, an' I
+had a jug o' black-strap with me. Know what that
+is, leetle gal?"</p>
+
+<p>"No-o-o," gasped 'Tilda Jane, who, rather
+ashamed of her emotion, was trying to sober herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal&mdash;it's the State o' Maine name for rum an'
+molasses mixed, an' you take it with you in case you
+git sick. There was some other men with me, an'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
+they'd gone off in a boat on the lake. I had a gun,
+but 'pon my word I didn't think o' usin' it, 'count of
+gratitude to that b'ar for givin' me such a treat&mdash;just
+as good as a circus. Wal, I must tell how it
+happened. I didn't feel well that day&mdash;had a kind
+o' pain, an' I was lyin' on the bank in the sun,
+foolin' an' wishin' I was all right. By an' by,
+thinks I, I'll go to the camp an' hev a drink o' black-strap.
+I was mos' thar, when I met a wicked thief
+b'ar comin' out. Powers around, he was as tipsy as
+a tinker. He'd bin at my black-strap, an' I wish you
+could 'a' seen him. He didn't know where he was at,
+or where he wanted to be at, an' he was jolly, an'
+friendly, an' see-sawed roun' me, an' rolled an' swaggered
+till I tho't I'd die laughin'. My pain went
+like las' year's snow, an' I walked after that b'ar till
+he was out o' sight. Just like a drunken man he
+was, makin' for home, an' in the midst of all his
+foolery havin' an idea of where he'd oughter go.
+I'd 'a' given a good deal to see Mrs. B'ar's face when
+he arrove. An' didn't those other fellers give it to
+me for not shootin' him! I said I couldn't take a
+mean advantage of his sitooation."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane's face was composed now, and
+with a faint smile she reverted to the subject of
+the deer. "Don't you feel bad when you're
+killin' them, an' they looks at you with their big
+eyes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, leetle gal, don't you talk no more
+'bout them, or you'll hev me as mush-hearted as you
+be," said Lucas, getting up and going to the window.
+"At present I ain't got no feelin' about deer excep'
+that what's in the woods is ours. You jus' stand up
+an' try your feet. It's goin' to snow, an' I'd like to
+git you out o' here. Did you ever try to teeter
+along on snow-shoes?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," she said, getting up and walking across
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas was anxiously surveying the sky. "'Pears
+like it was goin' to snow any minute. The las' thaw
+took the heft of it off the ground&mdash;you'd 'a' never
+got in this fur if it hadn't&mdash;an' we're bound to hev
+another big fall. It ain't fur to the road, an' I guess
+you an' Zebedee better start. Lemme see you walk,
+sissy."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane tottered back to her seat.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It's a smart trot home," observed Zebedee.
+"D'ye think she could foot it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pop, it's snowin' now," said Joe, who had taken
+his father's place at the window.</p>
+
+<p>With almost incredible rapidity there had been
+a change in the weather. A small and sullen cloud
+had hidden the dreamy, thoughtful sun, and out of
+the cloud came wheeling, choking gusts, bearing
+bewildered snowflakes up and down, hither and
+thither, before allowing them to alight turbulently
+upon the quiet earth.</p>
+
+<p>"That's quick," muttered Lucas, philosophically.
+"We'll hev to put off opinions till it's over," and he
+again sat down by the fire. The wind tore around
+the small cabin, furiously seeking an entrance, but
+finding none. Outside at least he could have his
+will, and his vengeance fell upon the sturdy young
+firs and spruces, who at his fierce word of command
+threw off their burdens of snow, and bent and swayed
+before his wrath as wildly as the most graceful hardwood
+saplings. The older trees bent more reluctantly.
+They had seen many winters, many
+storms, yet occasionally a groan burst from them as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+the raging breath of the wind monster blew around
+some decaying giant and hurled him to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane pictured the scene without, and cowered
+closer to the fire. Gippie was on her lap,
+Poacher beside her, and this man with his two boys,
+who at present personified her best friends in the
+world, were safe and warm in their shelter.</p>
+
+<p>Her dark face cleared, and in dreamy content she
+listened to the string of hunting stories reeled off
+by the two boys, who, without addressing her directly,
+were evidently stimulated by the knowledge
+that here was an interested, appreciative, and "brand
+new" listener.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XI.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">A SUDDEN RESOLUTION.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The storm did not abate. All day long it raged
+around the cabin, and the four prisoners talked,
+ate, and drank without grumbling at their captivity.
+When bedtime approached, Lucas addressed 'Tilda
+Jane in an apologetic manner. "Ye see we ain't
+used to havin' leetle gals, an' I'm afeard we can't
+make you very comfy, as my ole woman says, but
+we'll do the best we kin. This room's all we've got,
+but I'm goin' to try to make it two. See here,"
+and rising, he went to one of the rough bunks built
+against the wall opposite the fire; "I'm a-goin' to
+drape ye off a place for yourself and dog," and,
+hanging a blanket on a hook by the fireplace, he
+called loudly for a nail to drive in the logs across
+the corner.</p>
+
+<p>The two boys, who were playing cards at the
+table, jumped up, and presently 'Tilda Jane had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
+snug corner to herself. Lucas had dragged out one
+of the fragrant fir beds from one of the bunks. The
+rustling of the evergreen inside reminded her of her
+narrow straw bed at the orphanage, and drawing
+the blanket over her, she nestled down and patiently
+waited for her friends to seek their equally fragrant
+couches. She was very sleepy, but she must not
+drop off until she had said her prayers. It never
+occurred to her to repeat them to herself. She
+must get up and say them aloud, and upon her
+knees.</p>
+
+<p>After some time there was silence outside her
+screen, except for the heavy breathing of the sleepers,
+and the slow, deliberate crackling of the fire
+over the fresh wood heaped upon it by Lucas.</p>
+
+<p>She crept quietly from her bed and knelt down.
+"Dear Father in heaven, I thank thee for saving my
+life. I might 'a' been dead at this minute if thou
+hadst not sent that good dog to find me. Please
+make me a better girl for being saved. I'll take
+good care o' that old man if thou wilt let me find
+him. Bless the red-haired man that owns this cabin.
+I guess he is a good man, Lord, but if he kills deer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
+wilt thou not lay on his heart a coal from thy altar?
+If he was a deer, he would not like to be killed.
+Bless him, dear Father in heaven, an' his two boys,
+an' bless me an' Gippie an' Poacher an' keep us safe
+for evermore,&mdash;an' bless the lady-boards, an' the
+matron, an' all the little orphans, an' let them find
+good homes an' get out o' the 'sylum,&mdash;Lord, I
+will write them a letter as soon as I get settled, an'
+confess what is wickedness, an' what ain't. I don't
+want to be a bad little girl. I want to live straight,
+an' go to heaven when I die, but I'm sorry I had
+to begin in a 'sylum. It ain't a place for children
+what likes animiles. For Jesus' sake, Amen."</p>
+
+<p>With a relieved sigh, 'Tilda Jane crept back to
+bed and went to sleep, quite unaware that her petition
+had awakened Lucas, who slept as lightly as
+a cat. She had waked him, and now he could not
+go to sleep. For a long time he lay motionless in
+his bunk, then softly getting up, he seated himself
+on one of the boxes before the fire, and let his head
+sink on his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Years ago he had had a deeply religious mother.
+One who would rise at dead of night and pray<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
+earnestly for her children. 'Tilda Jane's childish
+prayer had brought back this mother from her grave.
+What a good woman she had been! The dying
+wind, sobbing and sighing without, called to mind
+the camp-meetings that he used to attend when he
+was a boy. Churches were few and far between,
+and it was the event of the year for the scattered
+religious people to gather together under the pines
+for out-of-door services. He could hear the women
+singing now,&mdash;the weird sound of their voices
+floated down the chimney. Surely he was among
+them again,&mdash;that good, religious crowd.</p>
+
+<p>He shook himself, muttered an impatient exclamation,
+and went back to bed. No, they were mostly
+dead, his mother was in heaven, and he was a hard,
+impenitent man. But his children&mdash;something
+ought to be done about them. This little girl had
+stirred these old memories&mdash;Zebedee and Joe must
+quit this life, and, with a snarl of determination on
+his brow, he turned over and fell into a profound
+and resolved slumber.</p>
+
+<p>Early the next morning 'Tilda Jane heard some
+one stirring quietly about the cabin. She peeped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+from behind the screen, and found that it was the
+father of the boys. He was making coffee, and
+taking dishes from a shelf to set them on the small
+table. He was also frying meat.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane did not like to venture out until the
+boys had made their toilet, which they presently did
+by springing from their beds, drawing on their boots,
+and smoothing their thick locks with a piece of comb
+that reposed on a small shelf near a broken looking-glass.</p>
+
+<p>When they had finished, she piped through the
+screen, "Will you please gimme a lend o' the comb?"</p>
+
+<p>It was politely handed to her, and in a short time
+she made her appearance.</p>
+
+<p>"Ho&mdash;deer's meat!" said Joe, sniffing joyfully.
+"Where'd you get it, pop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Found half a carcass leanin' agin the door this
+mornin'," he said, briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"Some o' the boys must 'a' left it on their way
+out," remarked Zebedee. "Hard blow to travel in.
+Gimme some, pop."</p>
+
+<p>Lucas had settled himself at the table, and was
+eating with every appearance of enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Nop," he said, pausing, and speaking with his
+mouth full. "That thar is for you an' the leetle
+gal."</p>
+
+<p>The boys stared at him in undisguised astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Fall to," he said, inexorably, "eat your bacon
+and beans, an' be thankful you've got 'em. There's
+many an empty stummick in the woods this mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>Joe, who was readier of speech than his brother,
+found his tongue first. "Ain't you goin' to give us
+any fresh meat, pop?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir-r-r."</p>
+
+<p>"You ain't got loony in the night, pop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Y' don't calklate to eat half a carcass y'rself,
+do ye?" said Zebedee, with a feeble attempt at a
+joke.</p>
+
+<p>"Nop&mdash;what I don't eat, I'll lug off in the
+woods."</p>
+
+<p>"He's loony," said Joe, with resignation, and serving
+himself with bacon.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was silently eating bread and beans,
+and to her Lucas addressed himself. "Leetle gal,
+the storm's a-goin' to conclude accordin' to my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+reckonin'. Kin you foot it out on snow-shoes this
+mornin' to the nearest house, do you s'pose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," she said, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"An' you two boys will keep her comp'ny," said
+Lucas, turning to his sons. "I'm a-goin' to march
+on to Morse's camp."</p>
+
+<p>There was a howl of dismay from Joe. "You
+give me your word Zebedee was to go."</p>
+
+<p>"An' I give you my word now that you're to go,"
+said his father, sternly. "In an hour I'll make
+tracks. You two wait till the last flake's settled,
+then take the leetle gal an' git her out safe an' sound
+to William Mercer's. Ask him to hitch up an' take
+her over to Nicatoos station, an' I'll settle with him.
+Then you skedaddle for home, git out your books,
+an' to-morrer go to school."</p>
+
+<p>This time there was a simultaneous howl from the
+boys, and in the midst of their distress could be
+heard faintly articulated the words, "Pop&mdash;books&mdash;school!"</p>
+
+<p>Lucas turned to 'Tilda Jane. "Yes, we're poachers,
+leetle gal, an' when I ask ye to say nothin'
+about what ye've seen an' heard here, I know ye'll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+keep as mum as we do. I'm a poacher, an' I'm
+goin' to hev a hard time to give it up. They used
+to call me king o' the poachers, till another feller
+come along smarter nor I was. Anyway, I can't
+give it up yet. It's in my blood now, an' men as ole
+as I be don't repent easy. It's when ye're young
+an' squshy that you repents. But these two cubs o'
+mine," and he eyed his boys with determination, "has
+got to give up evil ways right off. Ye've got to go
+to school, sons, an' learn somethin', an' quit poachin',
+an' hevin' the law hangin' over ye all the time."</p>
+
+<p>The boys looked ugly and rebellious, and, perceiving
+it, he went on. "Come now, none o' that;
+when ye're respectable, hard-workin' men ye'll be
+ashamed o' your father, an' that'll be my punishment
+if I don't get out o' this. An' you needn't
+kick, 'cause I'll lick ye all to splinters if I ketches
+one o' you in the woods this spring. Ye've got to
+turn right round."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll turn right round an' come back," said
+Zebedee, bitterly and furiously.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas got up, took him by the coat collar, and,
+without a word, led him outside the cabin.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later they returned&mdash;both flushed&mdash;Lucas
+grim and determined, and Zebedee sulky
+and conquered.</p>
+
+<p>"Air you also cravin' for an argyment?" asked
+Lucas, ironically, of Joe.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm cravin' to lick you," said the boy, bursting
+out into a wild raving and swearing at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Swearin' when there is ladies present," said his
+father, seizing him by the shoulder, and dragging
+him the way his brother had gone.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane stopped eating, and sat miserably with
+downcast eyes. She felt dimly that she had made
+trouble in this family, and brought additional misfortune
+upon herself, for what kind of escorts would
+these whipped boys be?</p>
+
+<p>Lucas's tussle with Joe was a longer one than the
+former with Zebedee had been, and not until after
+some time did he return. Joe hung about outside
+for an hour, then he came in, shaking and stamping
+the snow from him, and, as if nothing had happened,
+sat down and finished his breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas, meanwhile, had been making preparations
+for his long tramp. 'Tilda Jane watched him with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+interest as he took a sack, tied a potato in each
+corner, and proceeded to fill it with parcels of provisions.</p>
+
+<p>When at last he sat down, took off his cow-hide
+moccasins, and began to tie on soft moose moccasins,
+fit for snow-shoeing, he addressed his two
+boys.</p>
+
+<p>"When parients tell their children things air to
+be did, they ought to be did. When the children
+raves an' tears, they ought to be licked, an' when
+the lickin's over, the reasons come. Air you
+sighin' either o' ye to see the inside o' State's
+prison? Air you, Zebedee?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," said the boy, shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"Air you, Joe?"</p>
+
+<p>Joe, with his mouth full of beans, replied that
+he was not.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, that's where you'll land if ye don't quit
+breakin' State's law. Ye ain't either o' ye as clever
+as I be, but I've got to try to give it up, too. I've
+bin feelin' that ye'd git caught some day, and I've
+made up my mind, an' I'll hold it to my dyin' day.
+I'm goin' to crowd ye out o' this risky game. If I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
+ketch one o' you after deer agin, I'll give ye up to
+the warden myself. I swan I will," and he brought
+his hand down energetically on the table. "Now
+you go home an' go to school with smart boys an'
+gals till summer vacation, then ye can tell me
+what ye think of it. I'll not pretend I'll let ye out
+of it if ye don't like it, but I guess ye will. Ye've
+bin to school before an' made good progress, an' I
+asks yer pardon for takin' ye out."</p>
+
+<p>Zebedee listened in quiet resentfulness, but Joe,
+who possessed a more volatile disposition, and who
+having satisfied his hunger was comparatively good-natured,
+remarked, "What'll ye do about Poacher,
+pop?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucas's face darkened suddenly, and unhappily.</p>
+
+<p>"Come here, ole boy," he said, and when the dog
+went to him, he bowed his head for a minute over
+him. "We've bin good friends&mdash;me an' you.
+Many's the trap I've led ye in, an' many a time
+my heart would 'a' bin sore if ye'd a bin caught.
+An' now, 'count o' my transgression, ye're a wanderin'
+sheep. Ye'll never git back in the fold agin
+unless some good sheep leads ye."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There's somethin' you can't make over," said
+Zebedee, briefly. "He'll chase deer as long as he
+kin wag a leg."</p>
+
+<p>"Leetle gal," said Lucas, suddenly, "would ye
+like to hev this dog?"</p>
+
+<p>"To have him&mdash;that beauty dog!" 'Tilda Jane
+gasped, confusedly. "Oh, sir, you'd never give him
+away."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd most as soon give a child away," said Lucas,
+"an' I'd never do it, if it warn't for his habits.
+Ye're a-goin' to Ciscasset, which is somethin' of a
+place, an' a ways from the woods. An' ye'll pet him
+an' kinder cherish him, an' keep him from frettin' an'
+bein' lonely. My ole woman don't set much store
+by dogs, an' when I'm workin' in the tannery he's
+off doggin' deer by himself. He's nearly got shot
+dead. See those ripples in his back? That's
+where he's bin grazed. Poacher, ole boy, you've
+got to go with this leetle gal, if she'll hev you."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane hesitated, stammered, looked into the
+dog's anxious face, and the boys' protesting ones,
+and said at last, "But the ole man where I'm goin',
+mebbe he'll breach at my havin' two dogs."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Prob'bly he will," said Lucas, "but you crowd
+right up to him. Folks is queer 'bout dogs. Them
+as don't like 'em don't want to give 'em standin'
+room on this airth, but you walk right up to 'em an'
+say, 'This dog has as good a right to a place on
+God's footstool as you hev, an' I'm goin' to see he
+gits it. If you was more like a dog yerself, ye'd be
+more thought of, ye cross-grained, cranky ole skillingsby'&mdash;come
+you, sons, quit that scowlin'. Do
+ye know why I'm givin' that dog to the little gal
+stid o' you?"</p>
+
+<p>They uttered a brief negative.</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause she knows dog language," said Lucas,
+dropping his voice to a whisper, and looking mysteriously
+over his shoulder, "an' if there was a deer
+here, you'd find she knowed deer talk. You, sons,
+is fond o' dogs, but not in the style the leetle gal is,
+or I be. It's a kind o' smartness at gettin' inside
+the animal's skin. He don't verily talk. Ye jist
+understan' him without talk&mdash;leetle gal, what's
+Poacher sayin' now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he don't want to go with me," burst out
+'Tilda Jane, with energy. "He's a sick dog. Look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>
+at his eyes an' his droopin' ears. He don't want you
+to give him away. He don't want me to take him.
+Oh, I can't!" and she buried her face in her hands
+as if to hide temptation from her.</p>
+
+<p>"He's got to go," said Lucas, stroking Poacher's
+head, "an' mind me, dog," and he put his hand
+under the dog's jaws and lifted them so that he could
+look in his eyes, "no runnin' away from Ciscasset.
+Ye stay with that leetle gal. Don't ye come chasin'
+round here, 'cause if ye do, I'll turn my back on ye
+for a runaway, an' ye'll feel worse'n ye do now when
+we part on speakin' terms. Say, is it a bargain, ole
+feller? Call him, leetle gal."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was overawed by Lucas's determined
+manner, and dropping her hands she ejaculated
+feebly, "Here, Poacher, Poacher!"</p>
+
+<p>The dog looked at her, then pressed closer to
+his master, whereupon Lucas seized a stick by the
+fireplace, and struck him sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Poacher turned his large brown eyes on him in
+one despairing, reproachful glance, then with
+drooping head sauntered across the room to the
+boys.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Call him," said Lucas to 'Tilda Jane. "Speak
+up as if ye knew he was your dog."</p>
+
+<p>"Poacher," she said, in a firm voice, "come here.
+You're mos' as unhappy as I be&mdash;we'll be unhappy
+together."</p>
+
+<p>The suffering animal moved slowly toward her,
+and laid his head on her lap.</p>
+
+<p>There were tears in his eyes, and the little girl
+groaned as she wiped them away.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">FAREWELL TO THE POACHERS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Lucas was ready to start, and 'Tilda Jane and the
+boys stood in the doorway watching him tie on his
+snow-shoes.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, sons," he said, straightening himself up and
+drawing on his woollen mittens, "I'm goin' one way
+an' you another, but if ye act contrairy an' pouty to
+that leetle gal, I'll know it, for she's goin' to write
+me, an' if there's any complaint, there'll be such
+a wallopin' as these ones this mornin' would be a
+shadder an' a dream to."</p>
+
+<p>His lecture over, he looked over his shoulder and
+narrowly inspected the faces of his two boys. They
+were reserved, almost expressionless. It might be a
+month before he saw them again. He forgot 'Tilda
+Jane for an instant, "Sons&mdash;ye know yer pop loves
+ye, don't ye?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>His tone had suddenly changed, and the two big
+boys ran to him as if they still were children. "Pop,
+can't we come back after we take her out?" they
+exclaimed, with backward jerks of their heads toward
+'Tilda Jane. Their hands were on his arms, and
+they were roughly fondling his shoulders&mdash;these
+two unmannerly cubs of his.</p>
+
+<p>"Sons," he said, in a broken voice, "I ain't been
+a good father to ye. I've got to spend the last o'
+my life in rootin' up the weeds I sowed the fust
+part. I don't want you to have such a crop. Now
+you go 'long out an' be good sons. Your mother'll
+be sot up, an' you mind what she says, an' I'll soon
+come home. Take good care o' the leetle gal," and
+passing his hand, first over one brown head, then
+over the other, he tramped away out of view among
+the snowy spruces.</p>
+
+<p>The boys and 'Tilda Jane went back into the
+cabin. The two former sat together by the fire and
+talked, taking little notice of her. All their friendliness
+of the evening before was gone, yet they were
+not openly unkind, but simply neglectful. Toward
+noon the snow ceased falling, as Lucas had pre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>dicted,
+the sun came out brilliantly, and they began
+making preparations for departure.</p>
+
+<p>Zebedee was to wear an old pair of snow-shoes
+that had been left in the cabin, and 'Tilda Jane was
+to put on his new ones. Her humility and unselfishness
+slightly thawed the boys' reserve, and when
+they at last started, her ridiculous attempts at snow-shoeing
+threw them into fits of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>Zebedee carried the infirm Gippie, who otherwise
+would have sunk to his neck in the snow, Poacher
+soberly plunged his way along, while Joe assisted
+'Tilda Jane in keeping her equilibrium. After an
+hour's travel, she had become quite expert in the
+art of taking wide steps, and no longer needed his
+helping hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Air we mos' there?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"In the span of another hour and a half," said
+Joe.</p>
+
+<p>The hour and a half went by. They tramped on
+under the serene blue of the sky, and in such a
+solemn stillness that it seemed as if never a bird nor
+beast could have inhabited this white wilderness.
+Only the voiceless, silent trees were there, clad all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
+in white like ghosts of departed living things. But
+at last their winding way through the wood came
+to an end, and they stepped out on the old road.
+Here were evidences of travel. A few teams had
+passed by, and there were snow-shoe tracks alongside
+those of the sleigh runners.</p>
+
+<p>The trees also grew more sparsely, and soon gave
+place to clearings, then the distant roof of a barn
+appeared, and finally a long, thin string of small
+farmhouses winding down a bleak road before them.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this your home?" asked 'Tilda Jane, of the
+boys.</p>
+
+<p>"Nop," answered Joe, "we live off'n that way,"
+and he pointed down a road to the left. "But we've
+got to take you here to the Mercers', pop said."</p>
+
+<p>He drew up before the first in the string of
+houses,&mdash;a poor enough place, and unspeakably
+chilling in its deathly whiteness. A tiny white
+house, a white barn, a white fence, a white cow in
+the yard,&mdash;white snow over everything.</p>
+
+<p>"Looks as if they'd all died an' gone to heaven,"
+thought 'Tilda Jane, with a shiver.</p>
+
+<p>"Hole on," said Joe. "I'll run ahead an' see if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
+the folks is home. Ain't no smoke cornin' out o'
+the chimney."</p>
+
+<p>He swung open the gate, hurried in, pounded at
+the front door, pounded at the back door, and
+finally returned. "Guess there mus' be a funeral
+or somethin'&mdash;all off, anyway. What'll we do,
+Zeb?"</p>
+
+<p>Zebedee shrugged his shoulders. "S'pose we go
+nex' door?"</p>
+
+<p>"But them's the Folcutts," objected Joe.</p>
+
+<p>"S'pose they be."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Guess they kin drive as well as Mercer's folks."</p>
+
+<p>"What would pop say?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's nearer than the nex' house."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm kind o' tired," said 'Tilda Jane, politely and
+faintly. "Just drop me, an' you go back. I'll find
+some one."</p>
+
+<p>"Nop," said Joe, firmly, "we promised pop."</p>
+
+<p>"Come on," said Zebedee, "let's try the Folcutts."</p>
+
+<p>They went slowly on to the next blot on the
+landscape,&mdash;this one, a low-roofed, red house with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+untidy windows, and a feeble, wavering line of smoke
+rising from the kitchen chimney.</p>
+
+<p>They all went around to the back door, and, in
+response to their knock a slatternly woman appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"What you want, boys?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pop says will you take this gal to Nicatoos
+station?" asked Joe. "He'll square up with you
+when he comes out."</p>
+
+<p>The woman looked 'Tilda Jane all over. "The
+roads is main heavy."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane leaned up against the door-post, and
+the woman relented. "I guess it won't kill our
+hoss," she remarked. "Is it the seven o'clocker
+you want?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane appealed to the boys.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, m'am," responded Joe, promptly.</p>
+
+<p>"Needn't start for an hour yit. Come on in,
+boys."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess we'll be goin' on home," said Zebedee.</p>
+
+<p>Joe, for some reason or other, seemed reluctant to
+leave 'Tilda Jane. He carefully lifted Gippie to a
+resting-place by the kitchen stove, untied 'Tilda
+Jane's snow-shoes and strapped them on his back,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
+stroked Poacher repeatedly, and finally with a hearty
+"So long, little gal, let's hear from you," he made
+her an awkward bob of his head and ran after his
+brother, who had reached the road.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane drew up to the stove, and, while she
+sat drying her dress, looked about her. What a
+dirty kitchen! The log cabin she had just left
+was neatness itself compared with this place. Pots
+and pans were heaped in a corner of the room,
+the table was littered with soiled dishes, the
+woman herself was unkempt, frowsy, and dispirited
+in appearance.</p>
+
+<p>She was also cunning, for, while she seized a
+broom and stirred about the accumulation of dust
+on the floor, she inspected the little girl with curious,
+furtive glances.</p>
+
+<p>"You bin stoppin' with the Lucases?" she asked,
+at last.</p>
+
+<p>She had opened the door, and while she looked
+one way she carelessly tried to sweep in another way
+the pile of rubbish she had collected.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, m'am," said 'Tilda Jane, wearily.</p>
+
+<p>"How's Mis' Lucas?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane paused to gaze out the open door. Why
+did not the woman shut it? And why, when it was
+so pure and clean without, did she not feel ashamed
+to keep so dull and untidy a house? If it were summer-time,
+and the ground were brown and green, this
+dun-coloured room would not be so bad, but now&mdash;the
+contrast made her sick.</p>
+
+<p>"How's Mis' Lucas?" repeated her hostess, in a
+dull voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," replied 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Folcutt poised herself on her broom and with
+rustic deliberation weighed the statement just made.
+Then she said, "She ain't gone away?"</p>
+
+<p>"I dunno," said 'Tilda Jane, "I never see her in
+my life."</p>
+
+<p>Here was a puzzle, and Mrs. Folcutt pondered
+over it in silence, until the draught of chilly air made
+her remember to close the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Are we to start soon?" inquired 'Tilda Jane,
+after a time.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't a-goin' to take you," said her hostess, unamiably,
+"it's Uzziah&mdash;Uzziah!" and she went to
+an open stairway leading from the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What cher want?" came back, in an impatient
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"You're wanted. Passenger for the station."</p>
+
+<p>A boy speedily appeared. 'Tilda Jane was not
+prepossessed in his favour as he came lumbering down
+the staircase, and she was still less so when he stood
+before her. He had his mother's sharp face, lean
+head, and cunning eyes, and he was so alarmingly
+dirty that she found herself wondering whether he
+had ever touched water to his face and hands since
+the winter began.</p>
+
+<p>"Go hitch up an' take this gal to the station," said
+his mother, in feeble command.</p>
+
+<p>He stood scrutinising 'Tilda Jane. "Who fur?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bob Lucas."</p>
+
+<p>"How much'll he gimme?"</p>
+
+<p>"I dunno. He'll pay when he comes out."</p>
+
+<p>"S'pose the warden ketches him?"</p>
+
+<p>"He ain't bin ketched yit."</p>
+
+<p>"He's goin' to&mdash;so they say at the post-office."</p>
+
+<p>"I've got fifty cents," said 'Tilda Jane, with
+dignity. "Here it is," and she laid it on the
+table.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The youthful fox snatched at it, and grinned at
+his mother as he pocketed it.</p>
+
+<p>"Say&mdash;that ain't fair," remarked 'Tilda Jane.
+"You ain't kerried me yet."</p>
+
+<p>"She's right," said the more mature fox. "Give
+it back, Uzzy."</p>
+
+<p>Uzziah unwillingly restored the coin to 'Tilda
+Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Now go hitch up," said his mother.</p>
+
+<p>He sidled out of the room and disappeared, and
+Mrs. Folcutt's covetous eye wandered over 'Tilda
+Jane's wearing apparel. "Say, sissy, that's a pooty
+fair shawl you took off'n your dog. I always favour
+stripes."</p>
+
+<p>"So do I," replied 'Tilda Jane, and, with a premonition
+of what was coming, she turned her head
+and gazed out the window.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you might as well square up with us,"
+said the slatternly woman, seating herself near her
+caller and speaking in' persuasive accents, "and then
+you'll not hev to be beholden to Bob Lucas. It's
+jus' as well for a nice little gal like you to hev no
+dealin's with them Lucases."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That shawl ain't mine," said 'Tilda Jane,
+sharply.</p>
+
+<p>This statement did not seem worth challenging by
+the woman, for she went on in the same wheedling
+voice, "You'll not hev no call for it on the cars. I
+kin lend you somethin' for the dog to ride down in.
+It's too good for wrappin' him," and she gazed contemptuously
+at Gippie.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane drew in her wandering gaze from the
+window, and fixed it desperately on Poacher, who was
+lying under the stove winking sadly but amiably at
+her. Was no one perfect? Lucas hunted deer, this
+good dog helped him, his boys were naughty, this
+woman was a sloven and a kind of thief, her boy was
+a rogue, and she herself&mdash;'Tilda Jane was a little
+runaway girl. "You can have this tippet," she said,
+sternly. "That shawl's got to be sent back to where
+it comes from."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you stole it, did ye?" said the woman, with
+a sneer. "Well, I guess we kin hitch up for no
+thieves," and she got up and moved deliberately
+toward the door as if she would recall her son.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane's nimble fancy ran over possibilities.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>
+She had fallen among sharpers, she must be as sharp
+as they. Her offensive manner fell from her. "Look
+here," she said, bluntly, "I ain't got one mite o'
+money but that fifty-cent piece. If your boy'll drive
+me to Nicatoos right off, I'll give him that as I said,
+an' I'll send back the shawl by him. But if you don't
+want to do it, speak right up, an' I'll move on to the
+next house, and," she continued boldly as she saw
+consent on the cunning face, "you've got to give me
+somethin' to eat an' drink with it, 'cause I've got two
+dogs to take care of, an' I don't want to get to Ciscasset
+and tumble over from bein' fainty."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Folcutt's gray face became illumined by a
+silly smile. There was not a shawl like that in the
+settlement, and bustling to her feet, she stroked it
+and felt it with admiring fingers, until admonished
+by 'Tilda Jane that time was passing, and if she
+was going to get her anything to eat she had better
+be quick about it.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl almost choked over the sloppy tea
+from the venerable teapot, the shady bread and
+butter, and the composite dish of preserves set
+before her, yet resolutely shutting her eyes she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+ate and drank, and forced Gippie to do the same.
+Poacher would touch nothing. "Don't ye know
+them huntin' dogs eats <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'only onct a day'">only once a day</ins>?" said Mrs.
+Folcutt, contemptuously.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XIII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">AN ATTEMPTED TRICK.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>"How fur are we from Nicatoos?" inquired
+'Tilda Jane of her charioteer one hour later.</p>
+
+<p>"A matter of a mile," he replied, beating his
+disengaged hand upon his knees. He was sulky
+and cold, and 'Tilda Jane averted her glance from
+him to his small brown nag, who was trotting along
+as cheerfully as if there were a reward at the end
+of the drive for him.</p>
+
+<p>He was a curious little horse. Surely there
+never before was one with such a heavy coat of hair.
+He looked like a wild animal, and with gladness
+of heart she noted his fat sides. The Folcutts
+might be mean and untidy, but they certainly were
+good to this faithful friend, and her mind went off
+in puzzled reflection.</p>
+
+<p>She was pursuing the same line of thought of
+an hour before. No one was perfect, yet no one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+was wholly bad. There was good in everybody and
+everything. Poacher was a bad dog in some respects,
+and she cast a glance at him as he came
+trotting sleek and thoughtful behind the sleigh, but
+what a noble character he was in other respects!
+Gippie was a crank, and she pressed closer the
+small animal beside her, but he had his good points,
+and he was certainly a great comfort to her.</p>
+
+<p>Her heart was much lighter now that she was
+drawing nearer to the train that was to take her to
+Ciscasset, and in raising her little, weary head gratefully
+to the sky, she noted in quick and acute
+appreciation an unusually beautiful sunset. The
+colours were subdued&mdash;the sky was as hard and
+as cold as steel, but how clear, how brilliantly clear
+and calm! She would have fine weather for her
+arrival in her new home.</p>
+
+<p>She was glad that she was not to stay here. She
+felt herself quite a travelled orphan now, and somewhat
+disdainfully classed this rough settlement as
+"back-woodsy." The houses were uninviting and
+far apart, the roads and yards were desolate. The
+men were in the woods, the women and children<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
+were inside huddling around the fires. Middle Marsden
+was a quiet place, but it had not seemed as
+much out of the world as this. She hoped Ciscasset
+would be cheerful. Her travels had given her a
+liking for meeting new faces, and for enjoying some
+slight excitement. Not as much as she had had
+during the last few days&mdash;no, not as much as that.
+It was too trying for her, and she smiled faintly as
+she called up her last vision of her little careworn
+face in the cracked looking-glass in the log cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" she asked, abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>The sleigh had come to a sudden standstill, and
+the boy was holding the lines in dogged silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you drive on?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you jus' looky here," he replied, in a rough
+and bullying tone. "I ain't a-goin' one step furder.
+I'm mos' froze, an' the station's right ahead. You
+foller yer nose a spell, an' you'll git thar. Gimme
+the shawl an' the fifty cents, an' git out."</p>
+
+<p>For one moment 'Tilda Jane sat in blank amazement.
+Then she looked from his dirty, obstinate
+face to the plump pony. The latter showed no
+signs of fatigue. He could go for miles yet. If he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
+had made a plea for the harness, she would not have
+so much wondered, for it was patched and mended
+with rope in a dozen places.</p>
+
+<p>Then her blood slowly reached boiling-point.
+She had stood a good deal from these Folcutts.
+The shawl was worth five dollars. That she knew,
+for she remembered hearing the matron tell how
+much it had cost her. She had overpaid them for
+this drive, and she was not prepared to flounder
+on through the snow and perhaps miss her train.</p>
+
+<p>Her mind, fertile in resources, speedily hit upon
+something. She must get this bully out of the
+sleigh, and she fixed him with a glance more determined
+than his own. He had on a rough homespun
+suit of clothes, and a home-made cap to match it.
+This cap was pulled tightly over his ears, but it was
+not on tight enough to resist 'Tilda Jane's quick
+and angry fingers.</p>
+
+<p>Plucking it off, she threw it over a snake fence
+into a snow-bank, saying at the same time, "If
+you're goin' to turn me out, I'll turn you out first."</p>
+
+<p>The boy was furious, but the cold wind smote
+his head, and, postponing retaliation, he sprang first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
+for his cap, shouting warningly, however, as he
+swung his leg over the fence, "I'll make you pay
+up for this, you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane neither heard nor cared for the offensive
+epithet applied to her. With feet firmly braced,
+both hands grasping the lines, Gippie beside her, and
+Poacher racing behind, she was sweeping down the
+road. She had never driven a horse before in her
+life, but she adored new experiences, and she had
+carefully watched every motion of the young lout
+beside her.</p>
+
+<p>He could scarcely believe his eyes. He gaped
+speechless for a few minutes, for the sound of the
+sleigh-bells had made him turn sharply as he was
+picking up his cap. Then he restored the covering
+to his head, ran to the fence, and bawled, helplessly,
+"Stop thar&mdash;stop! Stop!"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was skimming gaily around a turn in
+the road toward the sunset. He thought he heard
+a jeering laugh from her, but he was mistaken.
+Having got what she wanted, she was going obliviously
+on her way. The boy had been an obstacle,
+and she had brushed him aside.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p168" id="p168"></a>
+<img src="images/p168.jpg" width="550" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'STOP THAR&mdash;STOP! STOP!'"</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>With his slower brain he was forced to pause and
+deliberate. Had she stolen their rig? Stupid as he
+was, the conviction forced itself upon him that she
+had not. She could not take the rig on the train,
+anyway, and plucking up courage, and shivering in
+the cold that had seized upon him during his deliberations,
+he meditatively and angrily began to plod
+over the route that he had recommended to her.</p>
+
+<p>Three-quarters of an hour later, he drew into the
+station yard. The train had come and gone, and his
+eager eyes went to the pony tied safe and sound
+under the shed, with not only the lap-robe over his
+back, but also the striped shawl&mdash;the first and last
+time that he would have the pleasure of wearing it.</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of the bells when he turned the
+sleigh, the telegraph operator came to the station
+door. "Here's fifty cents for you, left by a black-eyed
+girl."</p>
+
+<p>Without a "thank you," the boy held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you don't like that black-eyed girl much,"
+said the young man, teasingly.</p>
+
+<p>"She's a&mdash;" and the boy broke into an oath.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up!" said the young man, with a darkening<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
+face. Then with some curiosity he went on, "What
+did she do to make you talk like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Spilt me out," replied the boy, with another
+volley of bad language.</p>
+
+<p>"You young hound," said the man, witheringly,
+"if she spilt you out, I'll bet you deserved it. I'll
+not touch your dirty hand. If you want your money,
+go find it," and throwing the fifty cents in a snow-drift,
+he went back into the warm station and slammed
+the door behind him.</p>
+
+<p>Uzziah's troubles were not over, and he had still
+to learn that the way of the transgressor is a tiresome
+one. He fumbled desperately in the snow, for
+he wanted fifty cents above all things in the world
+just then, but he was destined not to find it; and at
+last, cold, weary, and yet with all his faults not
+inclined to wreak his wrath on the pony who stood
+patiently watching him, he threw himself into the
+sleigh and sped gloomily homeward. His mother
+had the shawl, but he had nothing for his trouble,
+for he counted as nothing and worse than nothing
+his experience of the maxim that one sly trick
+inspires another.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XIV.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">HOME, SWEET HOME.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was in a quandary. She had boarded
+the train for Ciscasset, she sat up very straight and
+apparently very composed&mdash;her outward demeanour
+gave not a hint of the turmoil within. In reality
+she was full of trouble. She had not a cent of
+money in her pocket, and her new familiarity with
+the workings of the Maine Central Railway assured
+her that it did not carry passengers for nothing.</p>
+
+<p>What was she to do? She pulled the little tippet
+more closely around Gippie's shoulders. She had
+taken it from her own, for it was absolutely necessary
+for him to have another covering now that the
+shawl was gone. Perhaps he would be taken away
+from her. She had noticed that it was not a customary
+thing for people to travel with dogs. His
+head and tail were plainly visible&mdash;this tippet was
+not like the voluminous shawl.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Lucas had not offered her money, and she had not
+liked to ask him for it. Perhaps he had not thought
+about it. Perhaps if he did think of it, he supposed
+that he was doing enough to get her to Nicatoos&mdash;and
+there was the conductor entering the other end
+of the car. She must do something, and deliberately
+rising from her seat, she slipped Gippie under
+her arm, and made her way out to the platform of
+the fast moving train.</p>
+
+<p>It was quite dark now. She gave one side glance
+at the white, silent country they were passing
+through, then stepped into the lighted car ahead.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a smoking-car, young girl," observed
+some one, haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane had dropped into the first seat she
+came to, which happened to be beside a very stout
+and very dignified gentleman who had a cigar in his
+mouth, and who was reading a newspaper.</p>
+
+<p>She looked round, saw that there were a number
+of men in the car&mdash;no women, no children, and that
+the atmosphere was a hazy blue.</p>
+
+<p>"Smoke don't bother me," she said, almost scornfully.
+What was a breath of smoke compared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>
+with her inward discomposure over her pecuniary
+difficulties?</p>
+
+<p>"I'm in a little trouble," she said, brusquely, "I
+ain't got money to buy a ticket."</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman gazed at her suspiciously. "I
+have no money for beggars," he said, and he turned
+his broad back squarely on her.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane, for one so obstinate, was strangely
+sensitive. With her face in a flame of colour, she
+rose. Had any one else heard the insult? No, not
+a man in the car was looking her way.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a poor little girl," she breathed over the
+gentleman's substantial shoulder, "but I'm no beggar.
+I guess I work as hard as you do. I wanted
+you to lend me a dollar or so to be sent back in a
+letter, but I wouldn't take it now&mdash;no, not if you
+crawled after me on your hands an' knees like a dog
+holdin' it in your mouth," and precipitately leaving
+him, she sauntered down the aisle.</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman turned around, and with an amazed
+face gazed after her. Stay&mdash;there she was pausing
+by the seat in which was his son. Should he warn
+him against the youthful adventuress? No, he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
+old enough to take care of himself, and he settled
+back in his corner and devoted himself to his
+paper.</p>
+
+<p>The only person in the last seat in the car was a
+lad of seventeen or eighteen who was neither reading
+nor smoking, but lounging across it, while he
+suppressed innumerable yawns. He was very handsome,
+and he looked lazy and good-natured, and to
+him 'Tilda Jane accordingly addressed herself. She
+had hesitated, after the rebuff she had received, to
+apply to any of those other men with their resolved,
+middle-aged or elderly faces. This lad she was not
+at all afraid of, and resting Gippie on the arm of his
+seat, she stared admiringly at him.</p>
+
+<p>He straightened himself. Here was something
+interesting, and his yawns ceased.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, miss, what can I do for you?" he inquired,
+mischievously, as she continued to stare at him without
+speaking.</p>
+
+<p>He would lend her the money, she knew it before
+she asked him. There was something else in her
+mind now, and her little sharp eyes were full of
+tears.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Is anything the matter with you?" he asked,
+politely.</p>
+
+<p>She could not answer him for a few seconds,
+but then she swallowed the lump in her throat
+and ejaculated, "No, sir, only you are so pretty."</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty!" he repeated, in bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said in low, passionate, almost resentful
+tones, "you ain't got no 'casion for those blue
+eyes an' that yeller hair. I wish I could take 'em
+away from you. I'd 'a' been 'dopted if I had 'em.
+I wouldn't be standin' here."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you sit down?" he asked, courteously,
+and with a flattered air. He was very
+young, and to have a strange child melt into
+tears at the sight of his handsome face was a compliment
+calculated to touch even an older heart
+than his.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane, with a heavy sigh, seated herself
+beside him. "I'm kind o' put out," she said,
+languidly, "you must s'cuse me."</p>
+
+<p>After her interest in him, he could do nothing
+less than murmur a civil inquiry as to the cause of
+her concern.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I've been tryin' to borrer money," she replied,
+"an' I was 'sulted."</p>
+
+<p>"To borrow money&mdash;then you are short of
+funds?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," she said, calmly, "I'm a-travellin', but
+I ain't got no money to pay for me nor for this dog,
+an' his head an' tail shows this time, an' he'll be
+nabbed."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?" asked the lad.</p>
+
+<p>"To Ciscasset, sir, if I ever get there. I'm
+beginnin' to think there ain't no such place."</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you there is, for I live in it myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you?" she ejaculated, with a flash of interest.
+"Do you know a man by the name of Hobart
+Dillson?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather&mdash;he was my father's bookkeeper for
+years. We pension him now," he added, grandly,
+and with a wish to impress.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was not impressed, for she did not
+know what a pension was.</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of a feller is he?" she asked, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a sort of tiger&mdash;might be in a cage, you
+know, but we haven't got one big enough."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You mean he gets mad easy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never gets un-mad. Always stays so. Is a
+regular joke, you know. Going to visit him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm goin' to be his housekeeper," said 'Tilda
+Jane, with dignity.</p>
+
+<p>The lad cast a rapid and amused glance over her
+small resolved figure, then taking his handkerchief
+from his pocket, turned his face to the window, and
+coughed vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>"I can fight, too," she added, after a pause, "but&mdash;"
+slowly, "I sha'n't fight him."</p>
+
+<p>The lad did not turn around except to throw her
+one gleam from the corner of a laughing eye, until
+she ejaculated uneasily, "There comes the conductor&mdash;are
+you a-goin' to lend me some money?"</p>
+
+<p>His face reappeared&mdash;quite sober now. "Well,
+young lady, I am not a capitalist, but I think I can
+raise you a loan. How much do you want&mdash;that
+is, where did you come on?"</p>
+
+<p>"I come on at Nicatoos, an' I've another dog in
+the baggage-car."</p>
+
+<p>"Travelling with two dogs," he murmured, "and
+short of funds. You have courage!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I like some animiles better'n some people,"
+observed 'Tilda Jane, sententiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Your sentiment does you credit," he replied,
+gravely, and as the conductor approached, he held
+out his hand. "I pay for this little girl and her
+dog in the baggage-car."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a fine hound you've got," the conductor
+observed, civilly, to 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," she replied, meekly. "I hope he
+ain't scared o' the train."</p>
+
+<p>"He don't like it much, but some of the boys
+have been playing with him. Why&mdash;" and he
+drew back in surprise, "you're the obstinate young
+one I pointed out to the inspector the other day.
+Here&mdash;you needn't pay," and he put in her hand
+the money her new friend had just given him.
+"There was a great racket about you. You needn't
+have run away from Vanceboro&mdash;if you'd spoken
+the truth, you'd saved yourself and us a lot of
+trouble. However, I guess they'll be glad to hear
+you're all right."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be 'bliged if you'll give my respecks to
+Mr. Jack," she said, steadily.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'll do it," said the conductor, "and tell him
+you've picked up another dog," and with a wink at
+her companion, he passed on.</p>
+
+<p>"Accep' my thanks," she said, after a time, handing
+the loose change in her lap to the lad.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep it," he replied, generously. "I don't want
+it."</p>
+
+<p>A grim flash like a streak of lightning passed over
+her dark face, and he added, hastily, "As a loan, of
+course. You may need money for your dogs. Old
+Hobart will begrudge them a bone, I assure you."</p>
+
+<p>She thanked him, and thoughtfully tied the money
+in a corner of her handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>"Now if his son were home, he would be different.
+Hank is a rattling, good-natured sort of a fellow.
+No principle, you know, but not a tiger by any
+means."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll thank you, sir, to keep a stiff tongue when
+you're talkin' of Hank Dillson," observed 'Tilda
+Jane, severely. "He's done me favours, an' you'd
+better keep your tongue off his father, too. If you're
+dyin' to pitch into some one, pitch into that selfish
+ole tub a-readin' that big paper up there. He turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
+his back on me when I hinted round him for the
+loan of a dollar or so."</p>
+
+<p>"And I'll thank you to keep a stiff tongue when
+you speak of that gentleman," said the lad, smartly,
+"for he's my father."</p>
+
+<p>"Your father!" echoed 'Tilda Jane, in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'onct have blue eyes'">once have blue eyes</ins> an' curly hair?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe so. He's a good-looking man yet."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a&mdash;" began 'Tilda Jane, hurriedly, then
+she stopped short. "Law me&mdash;I'll never learn to
+forgive folks before the sun goes down; I'm gettin'
+wickeder an' wickeder. What's your name, sir?
+I'll want to send you this money soon's I earn
+some."</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Datus Waysmith, and my father is
+the biggest lumber merchant on the Ciscasset
+River."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he?" she said, wistfully, "an' have you got
+more family?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have a mother as pretty as a picture, and
+three sisters."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"An' you have a nice room with a fire that ain't
+boxed up, an' you sit round, an' no other folks come
+in, an' no bells ring for you to get up and do somethin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"We have loads of rooms in our house," said the
+lad, boastfully. "It's the biggest one in Ciscasset.
+You'll soon find out where we live. Here we are
+most in&mdash;Iceboro next, then home," and he flattened
+his face against the glass.</p>
+
+<p>Outside in the dark night, bright lights appeared,
+danced over the snowy country, then disappeared.
+The train was running through the outskirts of a
+prosperous town.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Ciscasset a nice place?" asked 'Tilda Jane,
+wistfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Slowest old place that ever was. I'd like to live
+in Bangor or Portland. There's something going on
+there. We've nothing but a river, and mills, and
+trees, and hills&mdash;not a decent theatre in the place."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane did not know what a theatre was, and
+discreetly held her peace.</p>
+
+<p>"I say&mdash;here we are!" exclaimed the boy. "I
+hope mamma will have a good supper."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A shadow overspread 'Tilda Jane's face, and seeing
+it, the boy said, impulsively, "Stop here a minute&mdash;I
+want to speak to papa," and he rushed away.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl sat still. They were going more
+slowly now, and all the men in the car were standing
+up, putting on coats and warm caps. She had no
+wrap, but her dress was thick, and hugging Gippie
+closer, she felt that she should not suffer from the
+cold.</p>
+
+<p>The boy was making an animated appeal to his
+father, who was asking him short, quick questions.
+At last he gave him a brief, "Very well!" and the
+boy ran back to 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa says you can ride with us. I told him you
+had no one to meet you, and it would be cold comfort
+wandering about alone to find your way. He
+used to think a lot of Dillson, but you'd better not
+talk to him."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane trailed slowly after her guide through
+the crowd of people leaving the train, and passing
+through the lighted stone station to the yard outside.
+Here were drawn up a number of sleighs.
+The boy led her to the handsomest one.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Jump up on the box with Jenks," he said in a
+whisper. "Curl down under the rug, and I'll bring
+dog number two. He'll run behind, won't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess so," replied 'Tilda Jane, with an equally
+mysterious whisper, and she slipped down under the
+soft bearskin robe.</p>
+
+<p>In two minutes the boy came back, leading
+Poacher by a small rope. "I'll just tie him behind,"
+he said, "to make sure. He's all right&mdash;and
+here's papa."</p>
+
+<p>He stood aside, while his dignified parent got into
+the sleigh. 'Tilda Jane, from her high seat, looked
+around once. The lumber merchant and his son
+were down in a black valley of soft, smothering furs,
+Poacher was running agreeably behind, and Gippie
+was snug and warm in her lap.</p>
+
+<p>No one spoke during the drive, and they glided
+swiftly through the snowy town. 'Tilda Jane had
+a confused vision of lighted shops with frosty windows,
+of houses with more sober illuminations, then
+suddenly they were stealing along the brink of a
+long and narrow snow-filled hollow. This was the
+Ciscasset River, still held by its winter covering.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+She thought she heard a murmur of "rotten ice"
+behind her as the lumber merchant addressed his
+son, and she was enough a child of the State to
+know that a reference to the breaking up of the ice
+in the river was intended.</p>
+
+<p>Presently they dashed up a long avenue of leafless,
+hardwood trees to a big house on the hill. A hall
+door was thrown open, and within was a glimpse of
+paradise for the homeless orphan. Softly tinted
+lights in the background illuminated and made
+angelically beautiful the white dresses and glowing
+faces of a lady and three little girls who stood on
+the threshold with outstretched arms.</p>
+
+<p>The father and son welcomed to these embraces
+had forgotten 'Tilda Jane, and as the sleigh slowly
+turned and went down the cold avenue, tears
+streamed silently down her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Where am I to take you?" suddenly asked the
+solemn coachman beside her.</p>
+
+<p>"To Hobart Dillson's," she said, in a choking
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing more was said, she saw nothing, heard
+nothing, felt nothing of her immediate surroundings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
+She had once been taken to a circus, and the picture
+now before her mind was that of a tiger pacing back
+and forth in his cage, growling in a low monotonous
+tone, always growling, growling at a miserable child
+shrinking outside.</p>
+
+<p>"That there is Dillson's cottage, I think," said
+the coachman at last.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane roused herself. Through her blurred
+vision a small house wavered at the end of a snowy
+path. She wiped her eyes hastily, thanked the man,
+and, slipping from her high seat, ran behind the
+sleigh and untied Poacher.</p>
+
+<p>The man turned his sleigh and glided slowly out
+of sight. She stood watching him till he disappeared,
+then, followed by her two dogs went reluctantly
+up the path.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XV.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">THE FRENCH FAMILY.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane stood entranced. This was not the
+Dillson cottage, the coachman had made a mistake.
+She stood staring in the window, for this was a sight
+that pleased her above all other sights.</p>
+
+<p>Here was another family,&mdash;a happy family, evidently,
+all gathered around a cheerful fire in a good-sized
+living-room. There were an old grandfather
+in the corner smoking a pipe, an old woman beside
+him with a white cap on her head, a middle-aged
+man cleaning a gun by the light of a lamp on the
+table, a middle-aged woman knitting a stocking, and
+a cluster of children of all ages about the grandfather,
+grandmother, father and mother.</p>
+
+<p>Mingled with the crackling of the open fire was
+a very gay clatter of tongues speaking in some foreign
+language, and one boy's voice soared above the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>
+rest in the words of a song that 'Tilda Jane was
+afterward to learn:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container" lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><div class="poetry">
+<p class="verseq">"<em>Un Canadien errant,</em></p>
+<p class="verse"><em>Bannis de son pays,</em></p>
+<p class="verse"><em>Parconrait en pleurant,</em></p>
+<p class="verse"><em>Un pays étranger.</em>"</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>She gazed at them until the sense of increasing
+cold checked her rapture, and made her move regretfully
+toward the door and rap on it.</p>
+
+<p>It was immediately opened by a brown-eyed child,
+and held far back as if she were expected to enter.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you tell me where Mr. Hobart Dillson
+lives?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ou-ay, ma'mzelle</i>," murmured the child, bashfully
+hanging her head.</p>
+
+<p>"But enter&mdash;it is cold," called the mother, rising
+and coming forward, stocking in hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane felt drawn toward this alluring family
+circle, and one minute later was sitting in a chair
+on its circumference.</p>
+
+<p>"But come in, dawgie," said the mother gently
+to Poacher, who stood hesitating on the threshold.</p>
+
+<p>He came in, and was greeted silently and politely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
+by two respectable curs that rose from the hearth-stone
+for the purpose, then he lay down beside them,
+and gratefully extended his limbs to the fire.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane sat for a minute looking about her
+without speaking. These people were not staring
+at her, but they were all stealing occasional curious
+glances in her direction.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm lookin' for Hobart Dillson's," she said,
+bluntly, "but I guess there ain't no such person,
+for the nearer I get the more he seems to run
+off."</p>
+
+<p>The mother of the family smiled, and 'Tilda Jane
+gazed in admiration at the soft black eyes under
+the firm brows. "I can tell you, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>&mdash;he
+is near by, even nex' doah."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" murmured 'Tilda Jane, then she fell into
+meditation. These people were foreigners, poor,
+too, evidently, though perfectly neat and clean.
+She wondered how they got into the country.</p>
+
+<p>"You air emigrants?" she said, at last, inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"French," said the woman, "'Cajien French&mdash;sent
+from our country long ago. Our people went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+back. We returned to earn a little money. Too
+many people where we lived."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you come through Vanceboro?" asked
+'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>The woman's liquid eyes appealed to her husband.
+He shrugged his shoulders, looked down the barrel
+of his gun, and said, "It is a long time ago we
+come. I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>"Mebbe they weren't so partickler," observed
+'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Let um do!" came in a sepulchral voice from
+the fireplace.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane stared at the old grandfather, who
+had taken his pipe from his mouth to utter the
+phrase, and was now putting it back.</p>
+
+<p>The house-mother addressed her. "Do not fear,
+<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>; it is the only English he knows. He
+means 'all right, do not anxious yourself, be calm,
+very calm.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Does he?" murmured 'Tilda Jane; then she
+added, unwillingly, "I must be going."</p>
+
+<p>"Delay youself yet a leetle," urged the woman,
+and her pitying eyes ran over the girl's drooping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>
+figure. "The children go to make corn hot.
+Marie&mdash;" and a stream of foreign syllables trickled
+and gurgled from her lips, delighting and fascinating
+her caller.</p>
+
+<p>A little maid danced from the fireplace to one
+of the tiny pigeon-hole rooms opening from the
+large one, and presently came back with a bag of
+corn and a popper.</p>
+
+<p>"And a glass of milk for <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>," said the
+woman to another child.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was presently sipping her milk, eating
+a piece of dark brown bread, and gazing dreamily
+at the fire. Why could she not linger in this
+pleasant home.</p>
+
+<p>"You know Mr. Dillson?" she said, rousing
+herself with an effort, and turning to her hostess.</p>
+
+<p>"But yes&mdash;we have lived nex' him for so many
+yeahs."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think I can keep house for him?" asked
+'Tilda Jane, wistfully.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p190" id="p190"></a>
+<img src="images/p190.jpg" width="550" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'YOU ARE YOUNG FOR THAT, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">MADEMOISELLE</i>, YET&mdash;'"</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The woman hesitated, laid her knitting on her
+lap, and thoughtfully smoothed her tweed dress.
+"You are young for that, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>, yet&mdash;" and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>she scrutinised 'Tilda Jane's dark, composed, almost
+severe face&mdash;"if a girl could do it, I should think
+yes&mdash;you can. He is seeck, poor man. He walks
+not well at all. It makes him&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Like the evil one," muttered her husband,
+clutching his gun more tightly; "if he was a crow,
+I would shoot."</p>
+
+<p>"Let um do!" came in guttural tones from
+grandfather's corner.</p>
+
+<p>The woman laughed merrily, and all anxiety faded
+from her face. "Hark to <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gran'père</i>&mdash;it makes me
+feel good, so good. No one can make us feel bad
+if we feel not bad ourselves. Deelson is seeck. He
+is not hap-py. Let us not be seeck, too. Let us be
+hap-py. <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Allons mes enfants, est-ce que le</i>&mdash;" and
+then followed more smooth syllables that 'Tilda Jane
+did not understand.</p>
+
+<p>She soon saw, however, that an order had been
+given to butter and salt the corn, and presently she
+was shyly but sweetly offered some by the French
+children. Even Poacher and Gippie had some kernels
+laid before them, and in the midst of her concern
+as to Mr. Dillson's behaviour, her heart swelled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
+with gratitude to think that she should have such
+good neighbours. Here all was gentleness and peace.
+She had never seen so kind a woman, such amiable
+children. Did they ever quarrel and slap each other,
+she wondered.</p>
+
+<p>"It's getting late, ain't it?" she exclaimed at last,
+with uneasiness. "I must go," and she rose quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"But you can stay all night if you desiah," said
+the woman, motioning toward the pigeon-holes.
+"Stay, and go nex' doah in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, I must not," said 'Tilda Jane very hastily,
+through fear that she might yield to so pleasant a
+temptation. "But can I drop in an' see you by
+spells?"</p>
+
+<p>"But yes, yes&mdash;certainly, come often," said the
+woman. "Come at any hour," she said under her
+breath, and seizing 'Tilda Jane's hand in her own,
+"if it is not agreeable there, at any time run here."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm 'bliged to you," said Tilda Jane, gratefully,
+"much 'bliged, an' if you want any floors scrubbed,
+or anythin' done, jus' you run over an' get me. I'll
+come&mdash;" and with a sturdy nod of her head, she
+took her dogs, and slipped out into the darkness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If agreeable leave your dogs here till mornin',"
+called the woman after her.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl shook her head. "I guess he'd
+better see 'em right off. Good-night, an' thank
+you."</p>
+
+<p>The woman clasped her hands, and, looking up at
+the sky before she went into the house, murmured
+in her own language, "Holy One, guard her from
+that terrible rage!"</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XVI.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">THE TIGER IN HIS LAIR.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The next house to that of the French people was
+larger and more pretentious than theirs. It had
+more of a garden, there were two stories instead of
+one, and the roof was surmounted by a tiny tower.</p>
+
+<p>The outside of the tiger's den was highly satisfactory,
+and 'Tilda Jane smiled in weary stoical humour.
+Now to find the particular corner in which
+the tiger himself abode. The house was dark, except
+for one feeble glimmer of light on the ground floor.
+She had rapped at the front door, she had rapped at
+the back door without getting any response, and now
+she returned to the latter to see if perchance it had
+been left unfastened.</p>
+
+<p>It had, and lifting the latch cautiously, she went
+in. She knew Mr. Dillson was an old man, she
+knew he was lame, and possibly he heard her, but
+could not come to her rescue. Passing through a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>
+small porch where she stumbled against some heaped
+up pans, she turned the first door-knob she touched
+in passing her hand around the dark wall.</p>
+
+<p>She found herself in a kitchen. The table in the
+middle of the floor, the chairs, the dresser, were all
+illumined by a feeble, dying glow in a small cooking
+stove, and by the beams of a candle struggling
+through an open door.</p>
+
+<p>Poacher and Gippie crept after her as she proceeded
+slowly in the direction of this light. They
+felt that there was something mysterious afoot.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane paused at the bedroom door. Here
+was the lair of the tiger, and there was the tiger
+himself,&mdash;an old man with white hair, red eyes, and
+a night-cap. A candle was on a shelf by the head
+of the bed, and a pair of crutches was within reaching
+distance, and the old man was lifting his head
+from the pillow in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane could not help laughing aloud in her
+relief. This was not a very dangerous looking person.
+He seemed more amazed than vexed, and she
+laughed again as she noted his clutch of the bed-clothes,
+and the queer poise of his white head.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'Scuse me, sir," she said, humbly, "for comin'
+this time o' night, but I thought you'd like me to
+report first thing. I hope you've heard from your
+son I was comin'?"</p>
+
+<p>The old man said nothing. He was still open-mouthed
+and dumb, but something in his face
+assured 'Tilda Jane that he had heard&mdash;he had
+received some news of her, apart from the telegram
+sent by Mr. Jack.</p>
+
+<p>"I've had lots o' speriences," she said, with a tired
+gesture. "I'll tell 'em some other time. I jus'
+wanted to 'nounce my 'rival, an' tell you I'm goin'
+to wait on you good&mdash;I guess I'll go to bed, if
+you'll tell me where to get a candle, an' where I'm
+to sleep."</p>
+
+<p>He would tell her nothing. He simply lay and
+glared at her, and by no means disposed to seek a
+quarrel with him, she made her way back to the
+kitchen, opened the stove door, and, lighting a piece
+of paper, searched the room until she found the
+closet where the candles were kept.</p>
+
+<p>The old man lay motionless in his bed. He heard
+her searching, heard the dogs pattering after her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>
+and a violent perspiration broke out upon him.
+Wrath sometimes gave him unwonted fluency of
+speech. To-night it rendered him speechless. He
+did not wish this beggar's brat to wait on him.
+Hank had not asked his permission to send her&mdash;had
+simply announced that she was coming. He
+was treated as if he were a baby&mdash;an idiot, and this
+was his own house. Hank had nothing to do with
+it. He didn't care if Hank did pay her. He had
+money enough of his own to hire a housekeeper.
+But he didn't want one. He wanted to wait on
+himself. He hated to have women cluttering round,
+and he lay, and perspired, and inwardly raged, and
+obtained not one wink of sleep, while 'Tilda Jane,
+having obtained what she wished, peacefully composed
+herself to rest.</p>
+
+<p>First though, she calmly bade him "Good-night,"
+told him to "holler," if he wanted anything, and,
+calling her dogs, went off in search of a bed for
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond the kitchen was a front hall,&mdash;cold,
+dusty, and comfortless. Up-stairs were four rooms,
+two unfurnished, one having something the appear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>ance
+of a spare room left long unoccupied, the other
+smelling of tobacco, exceedingly untidy, littered with
+old clothes, fishing rods, bats, cartridge shells, and
+other boyish and manly belongings. This must be
+Hank's room, probably it had been occupied later
+than the other, and the bed would not be so damp.
+She would sleep here, and she turned down the
+clothes.</p>
+
+<p>"Good land!" she murmured, "I wonder how
+long sence those blankets has been washed?" and
+she turned them back again, and, going to the
+other room, obtained two coverlets that she spread
+over herself, after she lay down on the outside of the
+bed.</p>
+
+<p>The dogs had already curled themselves up on a
+heap of clothes on the floor, and in a few minutes
+the three worn-out travellers were fast asleep.</p>
+
+<p>When 'Tilda Jane lifted her head from her very
+shady pillow the next morning, her ears were saluted
+by the gentle patter of rain. The atmosphere was
+milder&mdash;a thaw had set in.</p>
+
+<p>She sprang up, and went to the dogs, who were
+still snoring in their corner. "Wake up," she said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
+touching them with her foot. Gippie started, but
+something in the expression of Poacher's eloquent
+eyes told her that, although he had been apparently
+sound asleep, he knew perfectly well what was going
+on about him.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's go and see Mr. Dillson," she exclaimed,
+and picking up Gippie, she ran down-stairs with
+Poacher at her heels.</p>
+
+<p>"It ain't cold&mdash;it's just pleasant," she muttered,
+turning the key with difficulty in the front door, and
+throwing it open.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my, how pretty!" and she clasped her hands
+in delight. Across the road was the deep hollow of
+the river. She was in one of a line of cottages following
+its bank, and across the river were fields and
+hills, now a soft, hazy picture in the rain. But the
+sun would shine, fine days would come&mdash;what an
+ideal place for a home! and her heart swelled with
+thankfulness, and she forgot the cross old man in
+the room behind her.</p>
+
+<p>The cross old man would have given the world
+to have turned her out of his house at that very
+minute, but his night of sleeplessness and raging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>
+temper had given him a fierce headache, a bad
+taste in his mouth, and such a helplessness of limbs
+that he could not turn in bed.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane fortunately did not know that if he
+could have commanded his tongue he would have
+ordered her into the street, but she saw that there
+was something wrong with him, and as she stood in
+his doorway, she said, pityingly, "I guess you're
+sick; I'll make you some breakfast," and she vanished
+in the direction of the wood-shed.</p>
+
+<p>He heard her chopping sticks, he heard the brisk
+snapping of the fire and the singing of the teakettle.
+He heard her breaking eggs&mdash;two eggs
+when he never cooked more than one at a time!
+He opened his mouth to protest, but only gave
+utterance to a low roar that brought Poacher, who
+happened to be the only one in the kitchen, into his
+room to stare gravely and curiously at him.</p>
+
+<p>She made an omelet, she toasted bread, she
+steeped him a cup of tea&mdash;this slip of a girl. She
+had evidently been taught to cook, but he hated her
+none the less as she brought in a tray and set it
+beside his bed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He would not touch the food, and he gave her
+a look from his angry eyes that sent her speedily
+from the room, and made her close the door behind
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess he'd like to gimme a crack with them
+crutches," she reflected, soberly, "I'd better keep
+out of his way till he's over it. Reminds me o' the
+matron's little spells."</p>
+
+<p>If she had been a petted darling from some loving
+home, she would have fled from the cottage in dismay.
+As it was, although she suffered, it was not
+with the keenness of despair. All her life she had
+been on the defensive. Some one had always found
+fault with her, some one was always ready to punish
+her. Unstinted kindness would have melted her,
+but anger always increased her natural obstinacy.
+She had been sent here to take care of this old man,
+and she was going to do it. She was too unconventional,
+and too ignorant, to reflect that her protective
+attitude would have been better changed for a
+suppliant one in entering the old man's domain.</p>
+
+<p>However, if she had meekly begged the privilege
+of taking care of him, he would have sent her away,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
+and as she was given neither to hair-splitting nor
+introspection, but rather to the practical concerns of
+life, she calmly proceeded with her task of tidying
+the house without reference to future possibilities.</p>
+
+<p>The kitchen was the first place to be attacked, and
+she carefully examined the stove. It smoked a little.
+It needed cleaning, and girding on some old aprons
+she found in the porch, she let the fire go out, and
+then brushed, and rubbed, and poked at the stove
+until it was almost as clean outside as it was inside.
+Her next proceeding was to take everything off the
+walls, and wipe them down with a cloth-bedraped
+broom. Then she moved all the dishes off the
+dresser, washed the chairs, and scrubbed the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>Then, and not until then, did she reopen the door
+into the old man's room. Now he could see what a
+clean kitchen she had, and how merrily the fire was
+burning in the stove. It was also twelve o'clock,
+and she must look about for something more to
+eat.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dillson had not touched his breakfast, so she
+ate it herself, made him fresh toast, a cup of tea, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+a tiny meat hash, then went up-stairs to tidy her
+bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>The hash was well-seasoned, and the odour of
+onions greeted the old man's nostrils tantalisingly.
+He was really hungry now. His wrath had burned
+down for lack of fuel, and some power had come
+back to his limbs. He ate his dinner, got out of
+bed, dressed himself, and limped out to the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>When he had dropped in his big rocking-chair, he
+gazed around the room. The girl had done more in
+one morning than all the women he had ever
+employed had done in three. Perhaps it would be
+economy to keep her. He was certainly growing
+more feeble, and a tear of self-pity stood in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>There she was now, coming from the French-woman's
+house. She had been over there to borrow
+sheets, and a flash of impotent rage swept over
+him. He tried to have no dealings with those foreigners.
+He hated them, and they hated him. This
+girl must go, he could not stand her.</p>
+
+<p>The back of his rocking-chair was padded, and
+before he realised what was happening, his state
+of fuming passed into one of sleepiness,&mdash;he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>
+off, soundly and unmistakably announcing in plain
+terms, through throat and nose, to the world of the
+kitchen, that he was making up for time lost last
+night.</p>
+
+<p>When he opened his eyes, it was late afternoon,
+and 'Tilda Jane, sitting at a safe distance from him,
+was knitting an unfinished sock of his, left by his
+dead wife some ten years ago.</p>
+
+<p>He blinked at her in non-committal silence. She
+gave him one shrewd glance, with her toe pushed
+Gippie's recumbent body nearer her own chair, and
+went on with her work. If he wanted to hear her
+talk, he could ask questions.</p>
+
+<p>The afternoon wore away and evening came.
+When it grew quite dark 'Tilda Jane got up,
+lighted a lamp, put on the teakettle, and with
+the slender materials at hand prepared a meal
+that she set before the uncommunicative old man.</p>
+
+<p>He ate it, rolling his eyes around the clean
+kitchen meanwhile, but not saying a word.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane kept at a safe distance from him
+until he had finished and had limped into bed.
+She then approached the table and ate a few mor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>sels
+herself, muttering as she did so, "I ain't hungry,
+but I mus' eat enough to help me square up to that
+poor ole crossy."</p>
+
+<p>She was, however, too tired to enjoy her supper,
+and soon leaving it, she washed her dishes and went
+up-stairs.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XVII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">THE TIGER MAKES A SPRING.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The situation would have been absurd if it had
+not been painful. The next morning the old man
+was still in the same mood, angry at the girl's invasion
+of his premises, and yet so appreciative of the
+value of her energetic ways that he did not insist on
+her departure. And so day after day, for a whole
+week, 'Tilda Jane lived on, keeping house for the
+old man, but saying not one word to him.</p>
+
+<p>He would not speak to her, and she would not
+begin a conversation with him. She prepared his
+meals from food that the storekeeper and butcher
+readily gave her on the old man's account, and exercised
+her tongue by talking to her dogs.</p>
+
+<p>Occasionally she called on her French neighbours,
+the Melançons, and from them gleaned various items
+of information about the eccentric Mr. Dillson, without,
+however, allowing them to know that he would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>
+not speak to her. This secret she proudly kept to
+herself. She found out from them that the old man
+was ordinarily in better health than at present,&mdash;that
+he was usually able to hobble about the house
+and wait on himself, for his temper had of late
+become so violent that no woman in Ciscasset
+would enter his house to work for him. Therefore,
+'Tilda Jane's arrival had been most opportune,
+for he would have been in danger of starving to
+death if left to himself.</p>
+
+<p>Feeling persuaded of this, and greatly pleased to
+think that she had been and was of service to the
+father of her benefactor Hank, her attitude toward
+the old man continued to be one of philosophical and
+good-natured obstinacy. She would not speak to
+him, but she was willing to wait on him in silence,
+looking forward to the time when he would find his
+tongue.</p>
+
+<p>Her only fear of his sullenness was on behalf of
+her dogs. He hated them&mdash;she knew it by the
+menacing tremble of his crutches whenever the
+animals came within his reach. Therefore, her
+constant endeavour was to keep them out of his way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
+She had made two soft, persuasive beds in the
+wood-shed for them; but it was cold there, and she
+could not stay with them. They loved her with
+all the strength of their doggish hearts, and wished
+to be with her every minute of the time.</p>
+
+<p>Often at night she would start up in bed from
+troubled dreams of a fierce old figure mounting the
+staircase, crutch in hand. There was no lock on
+her bedroom door, and if the old man had a sudden
+accession of strength, he could easily push aside
+the barrier of a wash-stand and two chairs that she
+put across this door before she went to bed.</p>
+
+<p>She wished that Hank would come home. He
+might persuade his peculiar parent to end this
+unnatural silence, and give her a chance to become
+acquainted with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Mebbe he'll soon come, Poacher," she whispered
+in the ear of the dog who was sitting close beside
+her. "We'll make up our minds for that, won't
+we?"</p>
+
+<p>The dog was sitting up very straight beside her,
+and gazing benevolently down at Gippie, who lay
+on her lap. They were all out on the front door<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>-step,
+and 'Tilda Jane was knitting industriously.
+It was a day like May in the month of March&mdash;there
+was a soft, mild air and a warm sun that made
+dripping eaves and melting snow-banks. Little
+streams of water were running from the garden
+to the road, and from the road to the hollow of the
+river, where large cakes of ice were slowly loosening
+themselves, breaking up and floating toward the
+sea. Spring was coming, and 'Tilda Jane, despite
+the incorrigible sulkiness of the person with whom
+she was living, felt it good to have a home.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have lots o' sport by an' by runnin'
+in the fields, Poacher," she whispered, lovingly, in
+his ear, "you ole comfort&mdash;always so sweet, an'
+good, an' never sassing back. You jus' creep away
+when you see some one comin' and don't say a
+word, do you? You're a sample to me; I wish
+I was like you. An' you never want to be bad,
+do you, an' chase back to the woods?"</p>
+
+<p>The dog abandoned his stately attitude, and gave
+his tongue a quick fillip in the direction of her forehead.
+No&mdash;thanks to her intense devotion to him,
+he had no time for mournful reflections on the past.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But I guess you'd like to see your master sometimes,"
+she murmured. "I see a hankerin' in your
+eyes now an' agin, ole feller, an' then I jus' talk
+to you hard. You darlin'!" and throwing her
+arm around his neck, she squeezed him heartily.</p>
+
+<p>He was boldly reciprocating, by licking her little,
+straight, determined nose, when there was a clicking
+sound around the corner of the house.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane released him and raised her head.
+The old man was approaching, leaning heavily on
+his crutches. The beauty of the day had penetrated
+and animated even his ancient bones. 'Tilda Jane
+was delighted to see him moving about, but, giving
+no sign of her satisfaction, she rose and prepared
+to enter the house. He did not approve of having
+the front door unlocked, he did not approve of her
+habit of dodging out-of-doors whenever she had no
+work to do inside. She felt this, although he had
+never said it, and pushing Gippie into the hall, she
+stepped down the walk to pick up her ball of yarn.</p>
+
+<p>The dog's enemy was some distance away, and
+seeing him leaning so heavily on his crutches, it did
+not occur to her that there could be any fear of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>
+danger. However, with all her acuteness, she did
+not measure the depth of his animosity, nor the
+agility with which it could inspire him.</p>
+
+<p>With a deftness and lightness that would have
+been admirable if it had not been cruel, the old man
+bore all his weight on one crutch, swung the other
+around in the air, and with the heavy end struck
+a swift, sure blow on Poacher's glossy black forehead.</p>
+
+<p>It was all done in the twinkling of an eye&mdash;in
+the short space of time that the little girl's back
+was turned. She heard the crashing blow, flashed
+around, and saw the black body of the dog extended
+on a white snow-bank. His eyes were open, his
+expression was still the loving one with which he
+had been regarding her as she stooped to pick up
+the ball.</p>
+
+<p>For an instant 'Tilda Jane felt no emotion but
+wonder. She stood stock-still, staring alternately
+at the old man and at the motionless body of the
+dog. It had occurred to her that he would kill one
+of her pets if he had a chance, but now that he
+had done it, the thing seemed unreal, almost absurd.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
+Surely she was dreaming&mdash;that was not Poacher
+lying there dead.</p>
+
+<p>She went up to the dog, touched him with soft,
+amazed fingers, lifted the velvet ears, and put her
+hands on his forehead. There was the slightest
+ruffling of the smooth skin where the crutch had
+struck him.</p>
+
+<p>The old man stood and watched her for a few
+seconds, his face a trifle redder than usual, but
+giving no other sign of emotion. He watched her
+until she lifted her head and looked at him, then
+he turned hastily and limped to the back door.</p>
+
+<p>It was an awful look to see on the face of a child,&mdash;an
+avenging, unforgiving, hateful look,&mdash;the look
+of a grown person in cold, profound wrath. He did
+not regret killing the dog, he would like to dispose
+of the other one, but he did object to those murderous
+eyes. She was capable of killing him. He
+must get rid of her, and make his peace with some
+of the Ciscasset witches, in order that they might
+come and wait on him.</p>
+
+<p>He went thoughtfully into the house and sat
+down in his usual corner beyond the kitchen stove.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>
+He wondered whether she would give him any supper.
+He could get it himself to-night if she did not.
+He was certainly better, and a glow of pleasure
+made his blood feel warm in his veins.</p>
+
+<p>Stay&mdash;there she was, coming slowly in&mdash;he
+thanked his lucky stars, looking very much the same
+as usual. He would not be slain in his bed that
+night. And she was getting fresh wood for the fire.
+Perhaps she would make hot cakes for supper. She
+was wonderfully smart for a girl. He had several
+times speculated as to her age. Sometimes when
+talking to the dogs she seemed no more than eleven
+or twelve years old. Ordinarily she appeared to
+him about fifteen, but small for the age. To-day in
+her wrath, she might be taken for seventeen. How
+subdued she seemed as she moved about the kitchen.
+He had done a good thing to strike down one of
+those animals. She would not have such an independent
+air now.</p>
+
+<p>She built up the fire, set the teakettle on the
+back of the stove&mdash;he wondered why she did not
+put it on the front, and why she gradually piled on
+sticks of wood until there was a roaring blaze that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+caused him some slight uneasiness. Was she going
+to set the chimney on fire?</p>
+
+<p>No, she was not; when there was a bed of fiery red
+coals, she took up her tiny padded holder, lifted off
+one of the stove covers, then, to his surprise, went into
+the corner behind him, where he kept his crutches.</p>
+
+<p>What was she going to do? and he uneasily
+turned his head.</p>
+
+<p>She had both his crutches in her hand&mdash;his polished
+wooden crutches with the gold plate inscription.
+Years ago, when he resigned his position as
+bookkeeper at Waysmith and Son's big mill, a gold-headed
+cane had been presented to him, on which
+was engraved a flattering inscription. Nothing that
+had ever been given to him in his life had tickled
+his vanity as this present from the rich and prosperous
+firm had done.</p>
+
+<p>When he had been obliged to put away the cane
+on account of his increasing bodily infirmities, he
+had had the gold plate inscription transferred to his
+crutches where he could see it all the time, and have
+others see it. Now&mdash;what was she going to do
+with those crutches?</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p215" id="p215"></a>
+<img src="images/p215.jpg" width="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"HE LIFTED UP HIS VOICE AND ROARED AT HER."</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He opened his mouth, and for the first time
+addressed her. "Put those crutches down."</p>
+
+<p>She paid less attention to him than she did to
+the crackling of the fire. Walking behind his chair,
+and making a wide circle to avoid his outstretched
+arms, she went to the other side of the stove and&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>He lifted up his voice and roared at her. She
+was sticking the legs of his crutches down in that
+fiery furnace.</p>
+
+<p>He roared again, but she did not even raise her
+head. She was holding the crutches down, stuffing
+them in, burning them off inch by inch&mdash;very
+quietly, very deliberately, but very surely. She was
+not thinking of him, she was thinking of the dead
+dog out on the snow.</p>
+
+<p>He kept quiet for a few seconds, then he began
+to bellow for mercy. She was burning up to the
+cross-bar handles, she would soon reach that gold-plate
+inscription, and now for the first time he knew
+what those eulogistic words were to him&mdash;he, a
+man who had had the temper of a maniac that had
+cut him off from the sympathy of every human being
+he knew.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Tears ran down his cheeks&mdash;in incoherent words
+he stammered an apology for killing her dog, and
+then she relented.</p>
+
+<p>Throwing the charred and smoking tops to him,
+she shut up the stove, took her hat and tippet from
+a peg in the wall, and clasping Gippie to her, left the
+house without one glance at the old man as he sat in
+the smoky atmosphere mumbling to himself, and
+fumbling over the burnt pieces of wood as tenderly
+as if they had been babies.</p>
+
+<p>She had conquered him, but without caring for
+her conquest she left him.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XVIII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">IN SEARCH OF A PERFECT MAN.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Ciscasset, perhaps most beautiful of Maine towns
+near the Canadian border, was particularly beautiful
+on the morning after 'Tilda Jane's departure from
+Hobart Dillson's cottage. The sun was still shining
+fervently&mdash;so fervently that men threw open their
+top-coats or carried them on their arms; the sky
+was still of the delicate pink and blue haze of the
+day before, the wind was a breath of spring blown at
+departing winter.</p>
+
+<p>It was still early, and beautiful Ciscasset was not
+yet really astir. Few women were to be seen on
+the streets,&mdash;only a score of shop-girls hurrying to
+their work,&mdash;but men abounded. Clerks were going
+to their desks and counters, and early rising business
+men to their offices. Market-men swarmed in from
+the country in order to be the first to sell their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>
+produce in the prosperous little town with the Indian
+name.</p>
+
+<p>Other towns and villages might direct their search
+across the sea for European titles for streets and
+homes. Ciscasset prided itself on being American
+and original. The Indian names were native to the
+State, and with scarcely an exception prevailed in
+the nomenclature of the town. Therefore the&mdash;in
+other places Main Street&mdash;was here Kennebago
+Street, and down this street a group of farmers was
+slowly proceeding. They had sold their farm produce
+to grocers and stable-keepers, and were now
+going to the post-office for their mail.</p>
+
+<p>Assembled a few moments later in a corner of the
+gray stone building, and diligently reading letters
+and papers, they did not see a small figure approaching,
+and only looked up when a grave voice inquired,
+"Air you too busy to speak to me a minute?"</p>
+
+<p>The men all stared at the young girl with the dog
+in her arms, the heavy circles around her eyes, and
+the two red spots on her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want?" asked the oldest farmer, a
+gray-haired man in a rabbit-skin cap.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I want to find the best minister in this place."</p>
+
+<p>A smile went around the circle of farmers. They
+were all amused, except the gray-haired one. He
+was nearest to 'Tilda Jane, and felt the intense
+gravity of her manner.</p>
+
+<p>"In the town, I mean," she went on, wearily. "I
+want to ask him something. I thought they'd know
+in the post-office, but when I asked behind them
+boxes," and she nodded toward the wall near them,
+"they told me to get out&mdash;they was busy."</p>
+
+<p>The old farmer was silent for a moment. Then
+he said, gruffly, "You look beat out, young girl, like
+as if you'd been out all night."</p>
+
+<p>"I was," she said, simply, "I've been pacin' the
+streets waitin' for the mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>The attitude of the younger men was half reproachful,
+half disturbed. They always brought
+with them to the town an uneasy consciousness that
+they might in some way be fooled, and 'Tilda Jane's
+air was very precocious, very citified, compared with
+their air of rustic coltishness. They did not dream
+that she was country-bred like themselves.</p>
+
+<p>The older man was thinking. He was nearer the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
+red spots and the grieving eyes than the others.
+The child was in trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"Bill," he said, slowly, "what's the name o' that
+man that holds forth in Molunkus Street Church?"</p>
+
+<p>His son informed him that he did not know.</p>
+
+<p>"How d'ye do, Mr. Price," said the farmer, leaving
+the young farmers, and sauntering across to the
+other side of the post-office, where a brisk-looking
+man was ripping open letters. "Can you give us
+the name of the preacher that wags his tongue in
+the church on Molunkus Street?"</p>
+
+<p>"Burness," said Mr. Price, raising his head, and
+letting his snapping eyes run beyond the farmer to
+the flock of young men huddling together like gray
+sheep.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you call him the best man in Ciscasset?"
+pursued the farmer, with a wave of his hand toward
+'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Price's snapping eyes had already taken her in.
+"What do you mean by best?" he asked, coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean a man as always does what is right,"
+said 'Tilda Jane, when the question was left for her
+to answer.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Don't go to Burness, then," said Mr. Price,
+rapidly. "Good preacher&mdash;poor practiser."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't there any good practisers in Ciscasset?"
+asked the farmer, dryly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;I know some pretty fair ones," responded
+Mr. Price. "I don't know of one perfect
+person in the length and breadth of the town. But
+I know two people, though, who come near enough
+to perfection for your job, I guess," and his brilliant
+glance rested on 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Who be they?" asked the farmer, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it this young girl that wants 'em?" asked
+Mr. Price.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," said the farmer, "it is."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll tell her," said his quicksilver friend,
+and he flashed to 'Tilda Jane's side. "Go up Wallastook
+Street to Allaguash Street. Ask for Reverend
+Mr. Tracy's house. Any one'll tell you&mdash;understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir&mdash;thank you; and thank <em>you</em>, too," and
+with a grateful gesture toward the farmer, she was
+gone.</p>
+
+<p>The farmer gazed after her. "I hate to see a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>
+young one in trouble. Someone's been imposin'
+on her."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Price felt sympathetic, but he said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Who'd you send her to?" inquired the farmer.
+"I'd give a barrel of apples to know."</p>
+
+<p>"To me?" inquired Mr. Price, smartly.</p>
+
+<p>The farmer laughed. "Yes, sir&mdash;I'd do it.
+You've put me in the way of business before
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"I sent her to a man," replied Mr. Price, "who
+might be in Boston to-day if he wanted to. He gave
+up a big church to come here. He's always inveighing
+against luxury and selfishness and the other
+crowd of vices. He and his wife have stacks of
+money, but they give it away, and never do the peacock
+act. They're about as good as they make 'em.
+It isn't their talking I care about&mdash;not one rap.
+It's the carrying out of their talk, and not going
+back on it."</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter wants to go out as hired help. I
+guess that would be an A number one place, if
+they'd have her," observed the father, meditatively.
+"Good enough," said Mr. Price, "if you want<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>
+her to ruin her earthly prospects, and better her
+heavenly ones," and he went away laughing.</p>
+
+<p>The farmer stepped to the post-office door.
+'Tilda Jane was toiling up the sidewalk with downcast
+head. The shop windows had no attractions
+for her, nor was she throwing a single glance at
+the line of vehicles now passing along the street;
+and muttering, "Poor young one!" the farmer
+returned to his correspondence.</p>
+
+<p>The Reverend Mr. Tracy was having his breakfast
+in the big yellow house set up on terraces,
+which were green in summer and white in winter.
+The house was large, because it was meant to
+shelter other people beside the Tracys and their
+children, but there was not a stick of "genteel"
+furniture in it, the new housemaid from Portland was
+just disdainfully observing to the cook.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll get over that soon," remarked the cook,
+with a laugh and a toss of her head, "and will be for
+givin' away what we've got an' sittin' on the floor.
+There's the door-bell. You'd better go answer it;
+it's time the beggars was arrivin'."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tracy was late with his breakfast this morn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>ing,
+because he had been out half the night before
+with a drunken young man who had showed an
+unconquerable aversion to returning home. Now as
+he ate his chop and drank his hot milk, fed a parrot
+by his side, and talked to his wife, who kept moving
+about the room, he thought of this young man, until
+he caught the sound of voices in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Bessie," he said, quietly, "there's your new maid
+turning some one away."</p>
+
+<p>His wife stepped into the hall. The housemaid
+was indeed assuring a poor-looking child that the
+master of the house was at breakfast and could not
+see any one.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll wait," Mrs. Tracy heard in a dogged
+young voice. The front door closed as she hurried
+forward, but she quickly opened it. There on the
+top step sat a small girl holding a dog.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning," she said, kindly; "do you want
+something?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see the Reverend Tracy," responded
+the little girl, and the clergyman's wife, used to
+sorrowful faces, felt her heart ache as this most
+sorrowful one was upturned to her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Come in," she went on, and 'Tilda Jane found
+herself speedily walking through a wide but bare
+hall to a sunny dining-room. She paused on the
+threshold. That small, dark man must be the minister.
+He was no nearer beauty than she was, but
+he had a good face, and&mdash;let her rejoice for this&mdash;he
+was fond of animals, for on the hearth lay a cat and
+a dog asleep side by side, in the long windows hung
+canaries in cages, and on a luxuriant and beautiful
+rose-bush, growing in a big pot drawn up to the table,
+sat a green and very self-possessed parrot. She was
+not screeching, she was not tearing at the leaves, she
+sat meekly and thankfully receiving from time to
+time such morsels as her master chose to hand her.</p>
+
+<p>The little, dark, quiet man barely turned as she
+entered, but his one quick glance told him more than
+hours of conversation from 'Tilda Jane would have
+revealed. He did not get up, he did not shake
+hands with her, he merely nodded and uttered
+a brief "Good-morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you sit here?" said Mrs. Tracy, bustling
+to the fireplace, and disturbing the cat and the dog
+in order to draw up a chair.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I think our young caller will have some breakfast
+with me," said the minister, without raising his
+eyes, and stretching out his hand he pushed a chair
+beyond the rose-bush, and by a gesture invited 'Tilda
+Jane to sit in it.</p>
+
+<p>She seated herself, crowded Gippie on her lap
+under the table, and mechanically put to her mouth
+the cup of steaming milk that seemed to glide to
+her hand. She was nearly fainting. A few minutes
+more, and she would have fallen to the floor. The
+minister did not speak to her. He went calmly on
+with his breakfast, and a warning finger uplifted
+kept his wife from making remarks. He talked
+a good deal to the parrot, and occasionally to himself,
+and not until 'Tilda Jane had finished the milk
+and eaten some bread and butter did any one
+address her.</p>
+
+<p>Then the minister spoke to the bird. "Say good
+morning to the little girl, Lulu."</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning," remarked the parrot, in a voice
+of grating amiability.</p>
+
+<p>"Say 'It's a pretty world,' Lulu," continued her
+owner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It's a pretty world, darlin'," responded the
+parrot, bursting into hoarse, unmusical laughter at
+her own addition. "Oh, it's a pretty world&mdash;a
+pretty world!"</p>
+
+<p>To the gentleman and his wife there was something
+cynical and afflicting in the bird's comment
+on mundane affairs, and they surreptitiously examined
+their visitor. Did she feel this?</p>
+
+<p>She did&mdash;poor girl, she had been passing through
+some bitter experience. There was the haunting,
+injured look of wounded childhood on her face, and
+her curled lip showed that she, too, young as she
+was, had found that all was not good in the world,
+all was not beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>The parrot was singing now:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry">
+<p class="verseq">"'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam,</p>
+<p class="verse">Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.</p>
+<p class="verse">Home, home, sweet, s-we-e-e-t ho-o-o-me,"</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="noindent">but at this point she overbalanced herself. Her
+uplifted claw swung over and she fell backward
+among the rose-branches.</p>
+
+<p>The bird's rueful expression as she fell, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>
+ridiculous one as she gathered herself up, and with
+a surprised "Oh, dear!" climbed back to her
+perch, were so overcoming that the minister and
+his wife burst into hearty laughter.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane did not join them. She looked interested,
+and a very faint crease of amusement came
+in a little fold about her lips, but at once faded
+away.</p>
+
+<p>The minister got up and went to the fire, and
+taking out his watch earnestly consulted its face,
+then addressed his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a ministers' meeting in half an hour.
+Can you go down-town with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear," replied Mrs. Tracy, and she glanced
+expectantly toward 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl started. "Can I ask you a question
+or so afore you go?" she asked, hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, my dear," said the man, with a fatherly air.
+"Not until I come back."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess some one's told you about me," remarked
+'Tilda Jane, bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"I never heard of you, or saw you before a quarter
+of an hour ago," he replied, kindly. "Do you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>
+see that sofa?" and he drew aside a curtain. "You
+lie down there and rest, and in two hours we shall
+return. Come, Bessie&mdash;" and with his wife he left
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was confounded, and her first idea was
+of capture. She was trapped at last, and would be
+sent back to the asylum&mdash;then a wave of different
+feeling swept over her. She would trust those two
+people anywhere, and they liked her. She could tell
+it by their looks and actions. She sighed heavily,
+almost staggered to the sofa, and throwing herself
+down, was in two minutes sleeping the sleep of utter
+exhaustion.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XIX</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">SWEET AND SOFT REPENTANCE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>She was awakened by a hoarse whisper in her
+ear: "Get up and go on, get up and go on. Don't
+croak, don't croak!"</p>
+
+<p>Her eyelids felt as heavy as lead, it seemed as if
+she would rather die than stir her sluggish limbs, yet
+she moved slightly as the rough whisper went on,
+"Get up and go on, get up and go on. Don't croak,
+don't croak!"</p>
+
+<p>It was the parrot with the cold in her throat, and
+she was perched on the sofa cushion by her head.
+'Tilda Jane raised herself on one hand. How weary,
+how unspeakably weary she was! If she could only
+lie down again&mdash;and what was the matter with her?
+Why had she waked with that terrible feeling of
+unhappiness?</p>
+
+<p>She remembered now&mdash;Poacher was gone. She
+had not shed a tear over him before, but now she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>
+hid her face in her hands, and indulged in low and
+heart-broken lamentation. Poor Poacher&mdash;dear,
+handsome dog! She would never see him again.
+What would the Lucases say if they knew of his
+untimely end? What should she do without him?
+and she cried miserably, until the sound of voices in
+the next room recalled her to herself.</p>
+
+<p>She was in the minister's house, and she must get
+her business over with, and be gone. So choking
+back her emotion, she wiped her face, smoothed her
+dress, and, followed by Gippie, stepped into the
+dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>The minister was seated by the fire reading to
+his wife. He got up when he saw 'Tilda Jane, gave
+her a chair, then went on with his book. After
+some time he laid it down. His caller was composed
+now, and something told him that she was
+ready to consult him.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled a beautiful, gentle smile at her, and
+thus encouraged, she swallowed the lump in her
+throat and began:</p>
+
+<p>"I'm 'bliged to you, sir, for lettin' me sleep
+an' givin' me some breakfus, an' can I tell you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>
+somethin' 'bout myself? I'm all kind o' scatter-wise."</p>
+
+<p>"And you wish some one to straighten you out?"
+he asked, benevolently.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir&mdash;an' I thought the best person would
+be a minister&mdash;they said you was the best here."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tracy smiled in a gratified fashion, while
+'Tilda Jane went earnestly on, "I'm all mixy-maxy,
+an' I feel as if I hadn't started right. I guess I'll
+tell you jus' where I come from&mdash;I s'pose you
+know the Middle Marsden Orphan 'Sylum?"</p>
+
+<p>The minister told her that he had heard of it.
+He did not tell her that he had heard it was one of
+the few badly managed institutions for orphans in
+the State, that the children were kept strictly, fed
+poorly, and were rapidly "institutionalised" while
+under the care of uneducated, ignorant women, who
+were only partially supervised by a vacillating board
+of lady managers.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I was riz there," continued 'Tilda Jane,
+"rizzed mostly in trouble, but still I was riz, an'
+the ladies paid for me, an' I didn't take that into
+'count when I run away."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"So you ran away," he said, encouragingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, 'count o' this dog, I said," and she
+pointed to Gippie, "but I guess inside o' me, 'twas
+as much for myself. I didn't like the 'sylum, I
+wanted to run away, even when there was no talk
+o' the dog, an' I'll tell you what happened," and
+while the minister and his wife courteously listened,
+she gave a full and entire account of her wanderings
+during the time that she had been absent from the
+asylum. She told them of Hank Dillson, of her
+sojourn at Vanceboro, and her experience with the
+Lucases, and finally her story brought her down to
+the events of the day before.</p>
+
+<p>"When that ole man keeled over my dog," she
+said, brokenly, "that dog as had saved my life, I
+wanted murder. I wished something would strike
+him dead. But he didn't fall dead, an' then I
+thought it was time for me to chip in an' do
+somethin'. I took them crutches as he can't
+move without, an' I burnt 'em most up&mdash;all but
+a little bit at the top with the gold writin', 'cause
+he sits an' gazes at it, an' I guess sets store
+by it."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You burnt Hobart Dillson's crutches!" exclaimed
+Mrs. Tracy, in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am&mdash;'cause he'd killed my dog."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder he had not struck you down," said the
+lady, with a shudder. "He is said to be a man
+with a very violent temper."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane sprang up, her face as white as a
+sheet. "I mos' forgot. I s'pose he's sittin' there
+this minute. He can't move without 'em, an' nobody'll
+go near him. Now, sir,"&mdash;and she turned
+in desperate haste to the little, dark, silent man,&mdash;"tell
+me quick what I ought to do."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a child with a conscience," he said,
+gravely; "you have been turning the matter over
+in your own mind. What conclusion have you
+reached?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go on," said the parrot, hoarsely, and between
+intervals of climbing by means of bill and claw to
+the top of a chair, "go on, and don't croak. Don't
+cr-r-r-r-oak!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p235" id="p235"></a>
+<img src="images/p235.jpg" width="550" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'I'VE LED ANOTHER DOG ASTRAY, AN' NOW HE'S DEAD!'"</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane turned her solemn face toward the
+bird. "Walkin' to an' fro las' night, a verse o'
+Scripter kep' comin' to me, 'Children, obey your
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>parents in the Lord&mdash;' Now, I ain't got any parents,
+but I had lady-boards. I oughtn't to 'a' run away. I
+ought to have give up the dog, an' trusted. I ought
+to 'a' begged them to get me a home. I ought to 'a'
+been a better girl. Then I might 'a' been 'dopted.
+Ever sence I've run away, there's been trouble&mdash;trouble,
+trouble, nothin' but trouble. I've led another
+dog astray, an' now he's dead!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Tracy exchanged a pitying glance.
+The child was intensely in earnest. Her black eyes
+were bent absently on the parrot who had fallen prey
+to an immense curiosity with regard to Gippie, and
+having surveyed him from the back of the chair
+and the mantel, and finding him harmless, was now
+walking cautiously around him as he lay on the
+hearth-rug. Presently, emboldened by his silence,
+she took the end of his tail in her beak. He did
+not move, and she gently pinched it.</p>
+
+<p>There was a squeal, a rush, and a discomfited
+parrot minus three tail feathers flying to her master's
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, "my, my! What a
+fuss&mdash;what a fuss!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Very little attention was paid her. Her master
+and mistress were taken up with the youthful
+owner of the dog, but Mr. Tracy mechanically
+stroked the bird as he put another question to
+'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"And what do you propose to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I ought to go back," she said, earnestly.
+"I ought to say I'm sorry. I ought to say I'll do
+better."</p>
+
+<p>"Go back&mdash;where?" asked Mrs. Tracy, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"First to the ole man. I ought to be civil to
+him. I ought to talk, an' not be mum like an
+oyster. I ought to ask him if he wants me to go
+'way. I ought to write the lady-boards an' tell 'em
+where I be. I ought to say I'll go back."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you wish to go back?" asked Mr. Tracy.</p>
+
+<p>A shiver passed over 'Tilda Jane's slight frame,
+but she spoke up bravely. "I ain't a-goin' to think
+o' that, sir. I've got to do what's right."</p>
+
+<p>"And what about your dog?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Gippie ain't in it at all," she said, with
+animation. "He don't need to go. I guess I'll
+find some nice home for him with somebody as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>
+likes animiles," and a shrewd and melancholy smile
+hovered about her tense lips as she gazed at her
+host and hostess.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little girl," said Mrs. Tracy, sympathetically;
+"we will take your dog and you, too. You
+shall not go back&mdash;you shall live with us."</p>
+
+<p>As she spoke, her big blue eyes filled with tears,
+and she laid a caressing hand on 'Tilda Jane's
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't do that, ma'am," said the little
+girl, vehemently, and slipping her shoulder from
+under the embracing hand. "Please don't do anything
+homey to me. Treat me as if I was a real
+orphan."</p>
+
+<p>"A real orphan," repeated Mrs. Tracy, in slight
+bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I want a home," cried the little girl, clenching
+her hands, and raising her face to the ceiling.
+"I want some one to talk to me as if I had
+blue eyes and curly hair. I want a little rocking-chair
+an' a fire. I don't want to mind bells, an'
+run with a crowd o' orphans, but it ain't the
+will o' Providence. I've got to give up," and her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>
+hands sank to her sides, and her head fell on her
+breast.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tracy bit her lip, and pressed her hands
+together.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you stay to dinner with us, my dear?" said
+Mr. Tracy, softly. "I will take you into my study
+where there is a fire and a rocking-chair, and you
+shall see some curiosities that I picked up in Palestine."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, sir, I must go," and she again became
+animated. "That ole man&mdash;I mus' see him. Tell
+me, sir, jus' what I am to do. I've been doin' all
+the talkin', an' I wanted to hear you. I guess I'm
+crazy," and she pressed her hands nervously over
+her ears.</p>
+
+<p>She was in a strange state of nervous exaltation
+that was the natural reaction from her terrible dejection
+of the evening before. She had decided to
+make a martyr of herself&mdash;a willing martyr, and
+Mr. Tracy would not detain her.</p>
+
+<p>"Go back to Mr. Dillson's, my dear; you have
+mapped out your own course. I do not need to
+advise you. Your conscience has spoken, and you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>
+are listening to its voice. Go, and God bless you.
+You shall hear from us."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was about to rush away, but Mrs.
+Tracy detained her. "Wait an instant. I have
+something for you," and she hurried from the room.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XX.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">WAITING.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Dillson had not passed a pleasant night.
+In the first place he had not been able to move for
+a long time after 'Tilda Jane's departure. For half
+an hour he had sat, hoping that she would return,
+or that some one would call on some errand. Without
+his crutches he was helpless.</p>
+
+<p>Strange to say, he was not in a rage with her.
+Indeed, he had never felt more kindly disposed
+toward her, and he certainly had never so longed
+for a sight of her little thin, ungraceful figure.
+Just at the moment of the burning of the crutches
+he could have felled her to the earth, but after it
+was an accomplished fact his lack of resentment
+was a marvel even to himself. Possibly it was
+because she had saved the gold plate. Possibly&mdash;as
+minute after minute went by&mdash;it was because a
+peculiar fear drove all vengeance from his mind.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He had not liked the look in her eyes when she
+went out. Suppose she should make way with herself?
+Suppose she should jump into a hole in the
+ice, or throw herself in front of a locomotive, or do
+any other of the foolish things that desperate and
+maddened people were in the habit of doing? What
+would then be his position? Not an enviable one,
+by any means. He was partly&mdash;not wholly, for he
+had some shreds of vanity left&mdash;aware of his neighbours'
+opinion respecting himself. There was an
+ugly word they might connect with his name&mdash;and
+he glowered over the fire, and felt sufficiently uncomfortable
+until a strange and marvellous thing
+happened.</p>
+
+<p>The kitchen was in an ell of the house, and, by
+hitching his chair around, he could command a view
+from the side window of a slice of the garden in
+front, and also of a narrow strip of the road before
+the house. He would watch this strip, and if a
+passer-by appeared, would hail him or her, and beg
+to have a new pair of crutches ordered from the
+town.</p>
+
+<p>It was while he was sitting in the gathering gloom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>
+watching this bit of highway, that the marvellous
+thing happened. Just by the corner of the house
+was a black patch on the snow,&mdash;the hind legs and
+tail of the poor deceased Poacher. The fore part of
+the body was beyond his vision. Dillson had no
+particular dislike for the spectacle. A dead dog was
+a more pleasant sight than a living one to him, and
+he was just wondering whom he would get to remove
+the animal, when he imagined that he saw the
+tail move.</p>
+
+<p>No, it was only his imperfect vision, and he rubbed
+his eyes and moistened his glasses. Now the tail
+was no longer there&mdash;the hind legs were no longer
+there. Had some one come up the front walk and
+drawn the creature away?</p>
+
+<p>He pressed his face close against the window-pane.
+No&mdash;there was the dog himself on his feet and
+walking about&mdash;first in a staggering fashion, then
+more correctly.</p>
+
+<p>The old man eagerly raised the window. If the
+girl lived, and was going about saying that he
+had killed her dog, here was proof positive that
+he had not; and smacking his lips, and making a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>
+clicking sound with his tongue, he tried to attract
+the resuscitated Poacher's attention. He must
+capture the animal and keep him.</p>
+
+<p>It was years since he had called a dog&mdash;not since
+he was a young man and had gone hunting on the
+marshes below the town.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, dog, dog!" he said, impatiently; "good
+dog!"</p>
+
+<p>Poacher gravely advanced to the window and
+stood below him.</p>
+
+<p>"Good dog," repeated the old man. "Hi&mdash;jump
+in," and he held the window higher.</p>
+
+<p>The dog would not jump while the enemy was
+there. He would not have jumped at all, if he had
+been at the back door, for he would have smelled his
+mistress's tracks and gone after her. Now he suspected
+that she was in the house.</p>
+
+<p>Though every movement gave him agony, the old
+man hobbled away from the window. The dog
+sprang in, and Dillson clapped the sash down. He
+had the animal now.</p>
+
+<p>Poacher was running around the room, sniffing
+vigorously. He stood on his hind legs and smelled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>
+at the peg where the hat and tippet had hung.
+Then he ran to the wood-shed door.</p>
+
+<p>With a most unusual exertion of strength, the old
+man rose, pushed the chair before him, and breathing
+hard, and resting heavily on it, opened the cellar
+door. He would shut the dog down there out of
+sight, and where he could not run out if any one
+came in.</p>
+
+<p>"She's down there, dog," he said, and the boldness
+with which he told the story so impressed
+Poacher, that after one inquiring glance which
+convinced him that his enemy's attitude had
+changed from that of a murderous to a semi-friendly
+one, he dashed down the steps into the
+cold cellar.</p>
+
+<p>Dillson slammed the door, and chuckled. Now
+to get back to the window. He tried to hitch his
+chair along, but he was weak and must rest. He
+sat for a few minutes, and when the few minutes
+were over, he found that his muscles had stiffened.
+He could not move.</p>
+
+<p>He sat a little longer. The fire went out, and
+the room got cold. He was so far from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>
+window that he doubted if any one could hear him
+if he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>He lifted up his voice to try. He was as hoarse
+as a crow. He had a cold, and it was every
+minute getting worse. If he had the dog from
+the cellar, he might tie something to him and
+frighten him so that he would go dashing through
+a window. He began to feel that if the little girl
+did not return, he might sit there till he died.</p>
+
+<p>His case was not desperate yet, however. He
+waited and waited. The night came and went,
+and another morning dawned, and the weather
+changed outside, until a stiff frost began to transform
+the thaw into a return of winter weather&mdash;and
+still he waited, but the little girl did not
+come.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XXI.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">THE TIGER BECOMES A LAMB.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Gippie was tired out, and in an execrable temper.
+He had had to trot home all the way from the
+Tracys, for his mistress was carrying a long bundle
+under one arm, and a good-sized basket on the
+other. And now that she was in sight of the house,
+she was fairly running, and he could scarcely keep
+up with her.</p>
+
+<p>Her head was turned far round, she was looking
+over her shoulder in the direction away from
+the front of the house, and yet she went right
+to the spot where the unfortunate Poacher had
+fallen.</p>
+
+<p>Gippie knew very well what all her emotion was
+about. Like some deaf and partly blind human
+beings, he was more aware of happenings than
+people supposed. Poacher was dead, and he was
+not sorry for it, for he had been desperately jeal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>ous
+of him, and limping up to his mistress he
+impatiently whined to claim recognition.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Gippie, what shall I do?" she moaned.
+"What shall I do? He was so good and gentle.
+I can't go in&mdash;I can't go in."</p>
+
+<p>She was on her knees on the snow. Her hands
+were wandering over the depression where Poacher
+had lain. Her face was so pale and unhappy, that
+even Gippie's selfish heart was touched, and standing
+on his hind legs to reach her shoulder, he
+tenderly licked her right ear inside and out, until
+she brushed him aside with a half laugh, half sob,
+and a murmured, "You tickle my ear, Gippie."</p>
+
+<p>She got up and moved slowly toward the back
+door, while the dog trotted along nimbly on his three
+legs after her. Why, what a vault! and Gippie
+shivered and turned his short-sighted eyes in the
+direction of the kitchen stove. It was black and
+cold, and the old man, sitting in the draughtiest corner
+of the room, right by the cellar door, was a dull,
+mottled purple. He did not speak when the door
+opened. He was morose and silent, and his whole
+appearance was that of a man in extreme distress.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Gippie was an excellent hater, and it did him
+good to see the old man suffer. However, he did
+not care to suffer with him, and squealing dismally,
+he planted himself near the delinquent stove.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane's listlessness and painful depression
+were gone. With a quick exclamation, she had
+dropped her basket and bundle, and had sprung to
+the kindling box.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing in it. She rushed to the
+wood-shed, came back with a handful of sticks and
+paper, and by dint of extra quick movements had,
+in an astonishingly short space of time, a good fire
+roaring up the chimney.</p>
+
+<p>Then she turned to the old man, who was still
+sitting in stony silence. "I'm 'fraid you're most
+froze, sir. Can't you come nigher the fire?"</p>
+
+<p>Dillson's eyelids were swollen with the cold, but
+there was still room for a disagreeable twinkle to
+glimmer through. He would say nothing, however,
+and 'Tilda Jane, approaching the long, peculiar
+looking bundle, opened it, took out a pair of
+crutches, and handed them to him with a humble,
+supplicating air.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Gippie crawled farther under the stove, and,
+lowering his head, awaited developments.</p>
+
+<p>But there was no danger of a blow from the old
+man. His hands were so benumbed that he could
+not hold the crutches. They slipped to the floor
+with a crash, and, opening his purple lips, he ejaculated
+the word, "Tea!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't you had nothin' sence I left?" inquired
+'Tilda Jane, sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Dillson shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"You ain't been sittin' there all night?"</p>
+
+<p>He nodded his head this time.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane's face took on an expression of dismay,
+and she flew around the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>The warm atmosphere was now enwrapping the
+old man in a most agreeable manner, and when
+'Tilda Jane handed him the big cup, he grunted
+something between an expression of thanks and a
+desire that she should hold it to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>While he greedily drank the hot liquid, 'Tilda
+Jane, with a queer choking in her throat, addressed
+broken remarks to him. "I didn't know, sir&mdash;I
+was hopin' some one would come in&mdash;I was mos'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>
+crazy 'bout the dog&mdash;I forgot all 'bout you till
+jus' now."</p>
+
+<p>"More," he said, shortly, when 'Tilda Jane put
+the cup down.</p>
+
+<p>She refilled it, then, as his hands began to get
+supple and he could manipulate it himself, she
+uncovered the basket Mrs. Tracy had given her.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't look in before," she exclaimed. "Oh,
+the beauty eggs!" and she carefully unrolled a
+napkin, "an' the white rolls, an' Washington cake,
+an' a meat pie, an' a tart&mdash;I say, grampa, we'll
+have a good dinner!"</p>
+
+<p>The old man looked strangely at her, but she
+went on unheedingly: "They're jus' boss people.
+I'm glad I went an' talked to 'em&mdash;I'm sorry I was
+so ugly to you, grampa, an' if you don't want me,
+I guess I'd better go 'way."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke quite humbly and naturally, and, as she
+did so, she raised her head and glanced in Dillson's
+direction.</p>
+
+<p>He made no response, and she went on: "I've
+been a very bad little girl, but I'm goin' to be better,
+an' you jus' tell me what you want me to do,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
+grampa, an' I'll do it, an' if you don't want to
+talk, you jus' write it. I know you're a big
+man, an' mebbe you don't want to talk to a
+little girl like me, but I'll not lay it up agin you.
+You jus' do what you want, an' I'm not tryin'
+to come round you, 'cause I 'spect you'll send
+me off quicker'n a flash so soon as you get some
+one else."</p>
+
+<p>Her lips were trembling, and her face was bright
+and expectant, but the old man gave her no satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Hand me some of that pie," he said, unexpectedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you wait till I set the table an' make it look
+real pretty, grampa?" she said, coaxingly.</p>
+
+<p>Dillson was nearly starved, and, without a word,
+held out his hand in a commanding fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, grampa," she said, gently, and she
+handed him a generous slice; "anythin' you like.
+This is your house. It ain't mine."</p>
+
+<p>Dillson ate his pie, watching her meanwhile out
+of a corner of his eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Bread and meat," he said when he had finished.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane supplied this want, and earnestly
+watched these viands going the way of the pie.</p>
+
+<p>"More tea," he said, when they were gone.</p>
+
+<p>When he had eaten and drunk to an alarming
+extent, he pointed to the crutches. "Where did
+you get them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw 'em in a window, grampa,&mdash;a great big
+druggist's window,&mdash;an' I went in an' said to the
+man, 'Can you trust me for 'em? I'll pay you, sure
+pop, if you'll gimme time. I'm goin' to be a good
+girl now, an' never tell no more lies nor steal, nor
+do anythin' bad,' but he jus' said ever so grumpy,
+'This is a cast down, no credit system store,' but I
+wasn't cas' down, an' I said, 'S'pose you was a lame
+man, an' a bad little girl burnt up your crutches,
+how would you feel? 'Then he looked kind o'
+solemn, an' said, 'Whose crutches was burnt up?'
+An' I said, 'Mr. Hobart Dillson's crutches,' an' he
+said, 'What girl burnt 'em?' I said, 'A little girl
+that don't know where to look.' Then he asked
+what you said when I burnt your crutches, an' I
+said you didn't say much, you jus' cussed. Then
+he turned his face round to the bottles, an' when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>
+he looked out it was red, an' he was shakin' all over
+like as if he's been cryin', an' he jus' pointed to the
+crutches an' said, 'Take 'em, an' welcome.'"</p>
+
+<p>Dillson's head dropped on his breast. This girl
+had evidently gone to Peter Jerret's store,&mdash;Peter
+Jerret who had owed him a grudge ever since the
+day he went in and denounced him before a store full
+of customers for overcharging him for prescriptions.
+Peter had actually dared to pity him&mdash;Hobart Dillson,
+and so had let the girl have the crutches, not
+caring whether he ever got paid or not. Well, he
+hadn't thought Peter would ever pity him, and, drawing
+his crutches toward him, Dillson cautiously lifted
+himself, and tried his weight upon them.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, he could walk, he would go to bed, and think
+over Peter's conduct. It affected him, but he must not
+look soft. "Open my door," he said to 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>While she flew to obey his command, the old
+man heard a low whine near him, and remembered
+Poacher. The dog had recognised the girl's voice,
+and would soon make himself known. He might as
+well have the credit of his discovery. If she had
+come home sulky he would have allowed her to find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>
+the dog for herself, but she was meek and biddable,
+and she had also secretly pleased him by addressing
+him as "grampa," in tones of such respect and
+affection. She had improved decidedly, and he exclaimed,
+peremptorily, "Here, you!"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane ran out from the bedroom, where she
+was turning down the icy sheets in the bed so that
+the chill might be taken from them.</p>
+
+<p>"Open this door," ordered the old man.</p>
+
+<p>With a wondering air 'Tilda Jane threw back the
+cellar door. Then she gave a joyful scream.</p>
+
+<p>There, standing on the top step, cold and shivering,
+half famished, but alive and well, was her
+beloved Poacher.</p>
+
+<p>She tried to catch him around the neck, but he
+flew past her into the kitchen, came back like a shot,
+and, dashing up her back, licked her neck, sprang
+into the air, and again racing round and round the
+room, brought on what she herself would call a
+"combobberation."</p>
+
+<p>The old man was so near, that Poacher, in his wild
+gyrations to and fro, swept one of his crutches from
+him. 'Tilda Jane, even in the midst of her aston<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>ished
+and ecstatic glee, perceived this, and stooped
+down to recover the lost article, but she could not
+lay her hand on it, for the excited dog, with his head
+in the air and his tongue hanging out, made repeated
+dashes at her, beside her, behind her,&mdash;he was
+everywhere that she was. And Gippie was after
+him, for, snorting with rage and mortification at the
+resuscitation of his rival, he had bounded from
+under the stove, and, with his maimed tail wagging
+excitedly in the air, was biting, snapping, growling
+at Poacher's heels, nipping him fiercely, if by chance
+he paused a second to rest.</p>
+
+<p>The noise and confusion were overcoming, and the
+old man, holding firmly to his remaining crutch, and
+grasping the back of a chair, grimly surveyed the
+scene. Finally 'Tilda Jane secured the crutch, and,
+pantingly brushing back her dishevelled hair, she
+passed it to him across the dogs' backs.</p>
+
+<p>Poacher had now sunk on the floor at her feet,
+while Gippie was exerting his feeble strength in
+trying to crowd him away from 'Tilda Jane's stout
+shoes.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive us, grampa, dear grampa," she said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>
+beseechingly; "but it's such a joyful 'casion&mdash;such
+a 'casion. My heart never felt so big in my life.
+It's all swolled up. Oh, ain't you sweet to prepare
+this s'prise for me. When I come back jus' now I
+thought my pet was buried in the cold ground&mdash;oh,
+I jus' love you!" and, climbing over the quarrelling
+dogs, she seized the bunch of knuckles nearest
+her, and kissed them fervently.</p>
+
+<p>The old man slowly uncurled his fist and looked
+at it. How many years was it since any one had
+kissed him?</p>
+
+<p>He put the crutch under his arm, and turned
+toward the bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>"Good night, grampa, dear grampa," floated sweetly
+after him. The girl was down on the floor with her
+dogs, her arm was around the hound's black neck, the
+three-legged atrocity was pressed to her side. She
+was happy, yes, happy&mdash;"as happy as a fool," he
+grumbled to himself. Nothing to annoy her, nothing
+to trouble her. Wait till she got older, and life's
+worries began to crowd around her, and with an impatient
+groan the old man flung himself down on the
+chair by his bed.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XXII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">A TROUBLED MIND.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane and grampa were sitting out in front
+of the house. The spring months had passed, the
+apple-trees had blossomed, and the young apples had
+formed. With the changing season had come happier
+days for 'Tilda Jane. Little by little, as the
+weeks slipped by, a better understanding had arisen
+between her and "grampa."</p>
+
+<p>He still gave way occasionally to terrible fits of
+temper and sullenness, but 'Tilda Jane understood
+him better now, and was quick to soothe and pacify
+him, or, if he was unmanageable, to keep out of his
+presence until he recovered.</p>
+
+<p>Just now he was in an unusually amiable frame
+of mind,&mdash;a frame of mind so accommodating that it
+boded storms in the near future. However, 'Tilda
+Jane did not care. She accepted the present peace
+and was thankful.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She had dragged out his big rocking-chair for him
+to sit on, and had given him an evening paper to
+read, while she herself was curled up on her
+favourite seat on the door-step.</p>
+
+<p>The old man was not inclined to read his paper,
+and dropping it on his knees he took off his glasses,
+put them in his pocket, and let his eyes wander to
+the apple-trees.</p>
+
+<p>The river was flowing blue and open now, birds
+were singing, and all things betokened a fine
+summer.</p>
+
+<p>"When you hear those robins sing, don't it feel
+as if there was a little string squeakin' inside o'
+you?" said 'Tilda Jane, gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>Dillson made no reply, and seeing that he was in
+no mood for a sympathetic comparison of emotions, she
+diplomatically started another topic of conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess the birds make me glad, 'cause I'm so
+happy you let me bide with you, grampa&mdash;an'
+you've been so noble an' generous to lend me money
+to pay for the matron's shawl I took for Gippie.
+An' it was so kind in the lady-boards to write back
+that they was glad to get rid of me."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p258" id="p258"></a>
+<img src="images/p258.jpg" width="650" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'THEY WAS GLAD TO GET RID OF ME.'"</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The old man laughed a toothless laugh at her
+whimsical view of the lady-boards' reply, but said
+nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't told you much of my travels yet,
+grampa," she said, agreeably. "I've been so busy
+house-cleanin'. I guess you'd like to hear about
+Vanceboro."</p>
+
+<p>The old man did not display any particular interest
+in Vanceboro, but having assured herself by a swift
+examination of his features that the subject was not
+disagreeable to him, she went on, "It's a great ole
+place. I'd like you to go there sometime, grampa.
+Such goings-on with them furriners! I saw one
+woman walkin' up and down wringin' her hands an'
+cryin' 'cause they wouldn't let her bring her ole
+mother into this nation."</p>
+
+<p>She waited for her hearer to ask why the mother
+was forbidden to come where the daughter could
+enter, but he did not do so, and she continued,
+"She was a poor woman from Boston, an' her
+mother was a poor woman from Canada, an' they
+said if she come in 'twould be two poor women
+together, an' first thing they knowed they'd be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>
+both in the poorhouse. So her mother had to go
+back to Canada."</p>
+
+<p>Dillson looked entirely uninterested in the case of
+the would-be immigrant, so, after a farewell announcement
+that sometimes as many as two hundred
+"furriners" went through Vanceboro in a single
+day, 'Tilda Jane passed on to another branch of
+her subject.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a reg'lar jubilee, grampa, when the trains
+come in&mdash;a boy runnin' to a big bell an' ringin' it,
+an' people pourin' into the lunch-room, an' jus'
+chasin' the food into their mouths an' lookin' hunted-like,
+as if there was somethin' after them, an' some
+don't take time to go to the tables. They step up
+to the lunch-counter, which is shaped jus' like a
+moon when it ain't full. There's glass dishes on it,
+with oranges, an' bananas, an' cakes an' pies, an'
+sangwiches, an' a funny machine where you drop
+a nickel in a crack, an' if the hand points to five, or
+ten or fifteen, you get twenty-five cents' worth of
+candy, an' if you don't get candy you get good
+advice like as, 'You've been keepin' bad comp'ny,
+quit it or you will never prosper,' or 'You've run<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>
+away from home, an' the perlice is on your track,'
+or 'Smokin is a bad thing for your health.'"</p>
+
+<p>Grampa was not very much interested, so 'Tilda
+Jane tried something more startling.</p>
+
+<p>"There's great talk of railroad accidents there.
+Men get killed awful. I heard a table-girl ask a
+brakeman how he could go on a train for fear he'd
+be hurt, an' he said he dassent stop to think, he had
+to take chances. I used to see 'em runnin' like
+cats on top o' them cars, slippery with snow an' ice.
+If you're inside one o' them cars, grampa, an' there's
+goin' to be a turnover, jus' grip hard on somethin'
+steady, 'cause then you're not so apt to get killed.
+I heard a conductor say that."</p>
+
+<p>Grampa's travelling days were over, yet it pleased
+him to be talked to as if he were still a strong and
+active man, and he said, shortly, "I'm not likely to
+be going far from home."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know, grampa," she said, soothingly.
+"Some day when you get nice and well, I'd like to travel
+with you, but first you must be very quiet like one of
+Job's mice, an' not have anythin' gnawin' at you&mdash;I
+guess you've had lots of plague times in your life."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Grampa looked unheedingly beyond her to the
+apple-trees.</p>
+
+<p>Her face was shrewd and puckered, and she was
+surveying him like a cunning little cat.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes, grampa, I hear you fussin' in your
+sleep&mdash;moanin' an' cryin' like a poor dog what's lost
+her pups."</p>
+
+<p>The old man turned and looked at her sharply.</p>
+
+<p>She went on boldly, "Can I lie in my soft,
+warm bed up-stairs an' you a-sufferin'? No, I
+creepy, creepy down, to see if I can do anythin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you do that again," said the old man, his
+face becoming red. "You stay in your bed at
+night."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, grampa," she said, meekly, "but I've
+heard things already."</p>
+
+<p>"Things&mdash;what things?" he asked, sharply.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane folded together the apron she was
+hemming, and getting up, opened a door of retreat
+behind her into the house.</p>
+
+<p>"About losin' that money," she said, sadly. She
+paused, and as he neither spoke or made any motion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
+to throw a crutch at her, she proceeded, "Grampa,
+I jus' know it's like a little pain hawk pickin' at
+your skin."</p>
+
+<p>Grampa was still silent, painfully so, and she
+hurried on, "You haven't got much money, an' you
+have me an' the dogs to take care of. Now,
+grampa, won't you let me get some work to do
+outside to help us?" and she screwed her features
+into their most persuasive appearance.</p>
+
+<p>Grampa had his head turned away over his shoulder,
+and when he after a long time twisted it around,
+'Tilda Jane rose, and prudently and swiftly retired
+into the hall.</p>
+
+<p>He must be in a rage. His face was fiery, and
+he was making a choking, spluttering sound in his
+throat,&mdash;a sound that only came from him in moments
+of agitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you&mdash;don't you," he stammered, "spy on
+me again, and bother your young head about things
+you know nothing of. Do you hear?" and he
+accentuated his remarks by a tap of his crutch on
+the door-step. "I've had a way all my life of talking
+over things in my sleep. And you've got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>
+enough to do at home. I'll not have you working
+for other people."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, grampa," said 'Tilda Jane, submissively,
+and she made a step toward him. She had
+planned to fly through the hall to his bedroom, and
+remove his wash bowl and pitcher, for since she had
+come to the cottage he had broken several in his
+fits of rage.</p>
+
+<p>But grampa was not angry in a violent way this
+time. "He's more bothered than mad," she murmured,
+dispiritedly, and she drew aside to allow him
+to pass by her into the house.</p>
+
+<p>"The dew's falling," he muttered, as he went by
+her. "I'll go sit in the kitchen a spell."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane went mournfully to sit under the trees
+on a wooden bench that grampa had had made for
+her. The two dogs curled themselves up at her
+feet, and with a sigh she picked up a writing pad
+beside her. It was almost too dark to see the lines,
+but she must finish a letter that she had begun to
+write to Hank.</p>
+
+<p>His former custom had been to scratch a line to
+his father once in six months to say he was alive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>
+and well, but since 'Tilda Jane's arrival he had
+written every week, and had addressed his letters
+to her.</p>
+
+<p>It was a great pleasure to the little girl to get
+these letters, and an equal pleasure to answer them.
+She related to him every occurrence of her daily
+life, all details of his father's conduct except disagreeable
+ones, and her letters always ended with
+an urgent request that he would come and visit
+them.</p>
+
+<p>This evening she had as usual made an appeal at
+the end of her letter. "Dear Mr. Hank, it seems a
+long time sence the snow was on the ground. I
+guess if you knew how much we want to see you
+you'd come hurryin' home. The dogs send love,
+Gippie specially 'cause he knows you. Poacher says
+he'd be happy to make your acquaintance&mdash;and,
+Mr. Hank, your father's kind of worried about
+somethin'. I guess he'd like to see you."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XXIII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">AN UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>While 'Tilda Jane wrote, Poacher suddenly made
+a stealthy movement, and Gippie, deaf as he was,
+had enough of the dog spirit left in him to know
+that some one was coming, and to elevate the tiny
+V-shaped flaps over his ears.</p>
+
+<p>The gate clicked, there was a rustling along the
+ribbon-grass bordering the narrow path, and then
+'Tilda Jane's writing-pad fell to the ground, and she
+sprang up with a delighted scream.</p>
+
+<p>For peering forward in the gathering gloom, she
+discovered Hank, the long-absent Hank, moving
+heavily and awkwardly up the path toward her.</p>
+
+<p>He had grown thin; his clothes hung loosely on
+him, and he was pale and worried in appearance, but
+'Tilda Jane did not criticise him. He was the
+person who had most helped her in her search for
+a home, and, springing toward him, she caught his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>
+arm and ejaculated: "Oh, Hank! Mr. Hank&mdash;is
+it truly you I'm pinchin', or is it a ghost?"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled faintly, and, in return, pinched her
+cheek. "I ain't a ghost yet, though 'pon my word
+I didn't know but what I'd soon be one." As
+he spoke, he threw himself wearily on the seat.
+"Well, 'Tilda, how does Ciscasset treat you? Coronation!
+You're getting fat," and he scanned her
+in satisfaction. "I wouldn't know you for the little
+runaway that held me up last March out at
+Marsden."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I'm gettin' fat 'cause I'm peaceful in
+my mind," said 'Tilda Jane, demurely; "I don't
+have no one to fight. I'm jus' havin' the softest
+time!"</p>
+
+<p>"So father really treats you well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course&mdash;don't I write you? He's jus' as
+sweet as a peach. He lets me wash, an' scrub, an'
+cook, an' never says a word excep' not to work too
+hard, an' if he wants to be jus' a little bit cranky,
+jus' a teeny little bit, he goes in his room an' shuts
+the door till the bad spirit gets out of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he ever hurt you?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, he never struck me&mdash;he usen't to like the
+dogs."</p>
+
+<p>Hank had never been told of Poacher's adventure,
+but his attention wandered to the dog, and he
+absently stroked his head.</p>
+
+<p>"You've done the old man a lot of good," he said
+at last.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;no, sir," said 'Tilda Jane, earnestly. "I
+guess it's the dogs. But he wants more good done
+to him. He's in a regular slouch of despond sometimes,
+Mr. Hank."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he?" said the young man, listlessly; "what's
+he desponding about?"</p>
+
+<p>"About money, Mr. Hank. He lost some in
+the street, and never got it back&mdash;then it costs
+something to keep me and the dogs. I feel
+dreadful about it. I try to eat jus' as little as
+possible, but I'm as hungry as a bear mos' all the
+time."</p>
+
+<p>Hank's attention was aroused. "You must not
+stent yourself, sissy. This is too bad. I'm to
+blame. I've been intending to send you some
+money, but I've had a run of bad luck."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>His face was so disturbed that 'Tilda Jane made
+haste to change the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm so worked up to see you&mdash;I'm perfectly
+'tossicated. I feel jus' like the teakettle
+afore it boils, an' that 'minds me&mdash;I mus' go set it
+on. <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: You mus' he">You mus' be</ins> starvin'."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I ain't hungry; I haven't had an appetite
+for a week. How much did father lose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sixty dollars," said the little girl, reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p>Hank relapsed into silence after this information.
+He was evidently not inclined to talk, but 'Tilda
+Jane was brimful of questions, and presently burst
+out with one of them.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hank, what did you do with that beauty
+horse of yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"Had to sell it," he said, bitterly. "I've lost
+everything I had. Those farmers are all against me.
+Every potato top among them. I'm played out in
+this State. They'd like to jail me if they could."</p>
+
+<p>"Jail you," said 'Tilda Jane, resentfully, "I guess
+I'd come and pound at the door of the jail if they
+did."</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to pound," said Hank, in an ungrate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>ful
+and ungallant tone, "'cause I ain't had a mite of
+luck since you crossed my path."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane fell into blank astonishment for the
+space of one minute, then she asked, wistfully, "Do
+you mean that&mdash;did I truly bring you bad luck?"</p>
+
+<p>"You truly did," he said, peevishly. "I'm all
+broken up in my business, cleaned out, done for."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane pushed the hair back from her forehead
+with a bewildered gesture. Her benefactor
+was in trouble&mdash;perhaps ruined, and through her.
+But this was no time for reflection, the urgency
+of the case demanded action.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hank," she said, softly, "warn't it a
+roguey kind of a business, anyway?"</p>
+
+<p>"All business is roguey," he said, gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you don't mean that," she said, mildly.
+"I know you don't mean that I've done you harm.
+I guess you're jus' in trouble like the river in the
+spring, when the ice goes mixy-maxy every way."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled slightly as he rose, and looked down
+into the shrewd little face, "Well, ta, ta, 'Tilda&mdash;be
+a good girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you goin'?" she asked, helplessly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Blest if I know&mdash;somewhere to earn a living,
+to Canada, maybe."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you go through Vanceboro," she said,
+sharply, then she pressed her hands to her head.
+"I think I'm crazy&mdash;are you Hank Dillson,
+standin' there sayin' you're goin' to leave us like
+this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't take on, 'Tilda," he said, consolingly.
+"I'm real sorry. I wouldn't have come out of
+my way this much if I hadn't promised you, and
+if you hadn't been such a nice little girl. Of
+course you haven't hurt me. I guess you've done
+me good, for I've had a kind of disgust with my
+business ever since you set foot in my life."</p>
+
+<p>She paid no attention to the latter part of his
+speech. "You say you've got to go, an' I can't
+keep you," she murmured, stupidly, "an' you don't
+know where you're goin'."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, an' I don't want to know. I'll
+loaf along till my money gives out, then I'll go to
+work."</p>
+
+<p>"Hank, do you think of Orstralia?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I ain't got dough enough to get that far."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean bread?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I mean cash."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you stay here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to do that I know of. This is a one-horse
+place."</p>
+
+<p>"Hank, you ain't seen your father," she cried,
+catching at his coat sleeve, as he turned toward
+the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"'Pon my word, I forgot the old man. I believe
+I'll go in for sixty seconds. You say his health's
+better?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said 'Tilda Jane, hurriedly, "I didn't
+write you that he had a fit not long sence, and
+it seemed to straighten him out. He goes to town
+on his crutches every day, an' Gippie limps after
+him&mdash;oh, Hank Dillson, Hank Dillson, I'm mos'
+loony about this business of your goin' away."</p>
+
+<p>Hank smiled wearily at her, and went slowly
+toward the house.</p>
+
+<p>"How long can you stay?" she asked, running
+after him. "How long will you give us?"</p>
+
+<p>He took out his watch, and held it close to his
+face. "I guess I'll take the eleven o'clock train.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>
+It's nine now&mdash;I thought I'd look up some of the
+boys."</p>
+
+<p>"Give us all the time," she said, pleadingly, "stay
+with your father an' me. Oh, promise, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right," he said, obligingly. "I don't care
+if I do. I'm beat out, anyway."</p>
+
+<p>"I have to go some place, but I'll be back soon,"
+she called after him, then she threw up both hands
+and pressed them over her ears,&mdash;a favourite gesture
+with her when she was doing hard thinking.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Waysmith or Mr. Tracy," she repeated,
+half aloud. "Mr. Waysmith or Mr. Tracy. Mr.
+Tracy," she said, at last, "he's most likely," and
+whirling on her heel, she flew down the path, out
+the gate, and into the street.</p>
+
+<p>Poacher, silent, graceful, and swift, kept close to
+her, but the battered Gippie soon gave up the
+chase with a howl of protest, and went limping
+home.</p>
+
+<p>Hank, to his surprise, had, on the whole, the
+most agreeable talk of his life with his father.
+The old man was altered. He had been, at the
+same time, the stiffest and the most demonstrative<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>
+of parents, the young man reflected. There really
+was a remarkable change for the better in him,
+and yet, at the end of three-quarters of an hour,
+Hank got up to take his leave.</p>
+
+<p>They were nearly always absent from each other,
+they had got out of the way of taking an active interest
+in each other's concerns&mdash;there was not yet
+sufficiently firm footing and enough of it to bridge
+to the shaky background of the past, and parting
+would be a mutual relief.</p>
+
+<p>Yet the old man's eyes twinkled wistfully as they
+followed his son to the door. Hank had told him
+nothing of his troubles, yet his father saw that he
+had lost flesh, that he had not a prosperous air, and
+he acutely guessed that all was not going well with
+him. He would find out from the young girl, and
+with a sigh he settled back in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try to come home soon again, father," said
+Hank, dispiritedly, as he looked over his shoulder
+before closing the bedroom door, and he was just
+shrugging his shoulders at the promise, when something
+dark and panting caught at him in the unlighted
+kitchen, and made him jump.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XXIV.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">A FRIEND IN NEED.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>It was 'Tilda Jane, breathing like a race-horse.</p>
+
+<p>"What's up with you, sissy?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>She could not speak for a few seconds, then she
+gasped with difficulty, "Hank, dear old Hank, he's
+in there&mdash;the loveliest man&mdash;he's always ready to
+do a turn for any one&mdash;go in&mdash;tell him your business.
+I've said a little, mind what he tells you, an'
+you'll get on. He's helped lots of people. He was
+in the midst of a dinner party. He's so good&mdash;he
+jus' left it an' come. Go&mdash;" and she gave him a
+gentle push and sent him into the parlour, where he
+blinked his eyes alternately at the lamp on the table,
+and at a small, dark, quiet man who sat with his hat
+on his knee.</p>
+
+<p>The small man was breathing hard, as if he, too,
+had been walking fast, but on seeing Hank, he rose
+and stood with outstretched hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My name is Tracy," he said, kindly, "and I
+have come to this town since you left it, but I
+know your family."</p>
+
+<p>"I know you, too," said Hank, bluntly, "from
+her letters," and he jerked his head backward, but
+'Tilda Jane, after softly closing the door, had
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tracy sat down again, and Hank sat opposite
+him. A slight and awkward pause ensued, broken
+speedily, however, by the minister.</p>
+
+<p>"Young man, you are in trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am that," said Hank, gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"State your trouble," said the minister, kindly.</p>
+
+<p>Hank hesitated an instant, then his words came
+with a rush. "You've visited creameries, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there's good creameries and bad creameries.
+A few years ago, when I was casting about
+in my mind for something to do, I got in with a
+Chicago firm known as the White Elephant firm&mdash;owing
+to so many States being spotted with their
+buildings, loaded on the farmers, and costing too
+much to keep up. Being a Maine man, they sent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>
+me to my own State. I was one of their most go-ahead
+sharks, now they've fired me to fix themselves
+right with the farmers. Do you know how they
+take in a community, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, s'pose you're a shark. You navigate
+round among the farmers, and make a smother of
+big talk about hauling in buckets full of money.
+You get a committee to visit some creamery where
+the outfit is salted to make an extra showing. You
+pay the farmers' expenses, you offer 'em a block of
+stock, and up goes the creamery in their district
+with machinery from the promoting company,
+costing two or three times over what everything
+is worth. When the whole thing's up, it'll usually
+dawn on the minds of your stockholders that
+a creamery ain't much without cows, and their
+cows ain't got enough milk to pay for the fuel
+they burn. 'Way back here fifty miles, I had
+whipped up a creamery; I had a man to run the
+machinery, but he was a simpleton. He ruined
+the separator, it had to be sent back to the shop,
+an' I got mad with him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Then he blabbed, told everything he knew, an' a
+lot he didn't, an' the farmers stopped counting their
+cows long enough to listen. Hasty words flew
+round, about fraudulent subscriptions, vitiated transactions,
+no contracts, ruined farms, going to law&mdash;an'
+I thought it was time to skip. The firm had
+made me stop there up to this, an' as soon as I
+ran, they bounced me&mdash;I'm all played out here,
+sir. My native State bids me farewell!"</p>
+
+<p>Hank suddenly ceased speaking, his head dropped
+on his breast, yet before it did so, he shot one appealing,
+hopeful glance at his listener. Despite
+his "don't-care" tone, and off-hand manner, it was
+plainly to be seen that he felt himself in trouble, and
+knew that there was one at hand who would help
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"You've been in a poor business," observed Mr.
+Tracy, quietly. "You want to quit it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," said Hank, meekly.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen then&mdash;" and his companion in his turn
+began to speak rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane, flying about the house, sent many an
+anxious thought to the closed parlour. What was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>
+the minister saying to Hank? Would Hank talk
+to him freely?</p>
+
+<p>"O Lord! Lord! Lord!" she cried, suddenly
+stopping and raising her clasped hands to the ceiling,
+"do make his heart soft&mdash;soft as mush, an'
+don't let him be sassy. The minister is smooth an'
+nice, an' he would stand sass, but it's awful bad for
+Hank. He's got to sober down. O Lord, make
+him solemn&mdash;jus' like an owl!"</p>
+
+<p>She dashed a tear from the corner of her eye, and
+went on with her occupation of wrapping various
+articles in a red handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>When the parlour door opened, she ran to the
+front hall, and as Mr. Tracy passed her, she caught
+his hand and pressed it fervently.</p>
+
+<p>He said nothing, but smiling with the more than
+earthly sweetness of one who truly loved his fellow
+men, he hurried back to his deserted guests.</p>
+
+<p>Hank followed close at his heels, and as he stood
+in the hall doorway, looking already straighter and
+taller, he smiled patronisingly down at 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a mighty fine girl, sissy, how old are you
+now?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thirteen o'clock las' week&mdash;struck fourteen this&mdash;oh,
+what did the minister say?"</p>
+
+<p>Hank thumped his chest. "He's got me a situation,
+sissy,&mdash;a situation that means bread and butter
+for you and father, and maybe cake and jam."</p>
+
+<p>The little girl locked her hands in intense excitement.
+"Where, Hank, oh, where?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here, sissy."</p>
+
+<p>"In Ciscasset?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane suppressed a scream. "An' you can
+live at home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I rather guess so."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane's pleasure was too deep for words.
+She stood gaping speechlessly at him.</p>
+
+<p>Hank, in high good humour, beamed benevolently
+on the orphan girl as she stood beside him. "What
+are you sticking your head up an down for like a
+chicken taking a drink?" he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Hank, I'm givin' thanks," she said, reverently,
+"givin' thanks that you've got led out of that roguey
+business."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll not get into anything of that kind again,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>
+sissy," he said, with a shamefaced air. "You may
+just be sure of that. I've had a great talk with that
+friend of yours&mdash;and sissy, I'm obliged to you."</p>
+
+<p>There was a queer break in his voice. An end
+had suddenly come to his troubles. He would now
+be in the way of earning an honest living. And it
+would be a pleasure to live with his father and this
+young girl who would look up to him and admire
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Sissy," he said, abruptly, "where do you think
+my new berth is?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know&mdash;oh, tell me quick."</p>
+
+<p>"In the Waysmith lumber mill. Mr. Waysmith
+offered a place to your friend Tracy to-day for some
+young man, and I'm the young man."</p>
+
+<p>"With the Waysmiths?" murmured 'Tilda Jane,
+"where your father used to be?"</p>
+
+<p>"The same, sissy."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane could stand no more. "O Lord, I
+thank thee!" she cried, with a burst of tears, and
+running into the kitchen, she buried her face in the
+roller towel hanging on a door.</p>
+
+<p>Hank sauntered after her, and on his way stumbled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>
+over a bundle done up in a spotted red handkerchief.
+He stooped down, picked it up, and opened it. It
+contained a few lumps of sugar, a Bible, a pair of
+socks, two handkerchiefs, half a loaf of cake, and
+fifty cents wrapped in a piece of newspaper.</p>
+
+<p>"My travelling kit," he murmured; "well, if she
+ain't the best little creature!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, 'Tilda!" he called out; "stop that
+whimpering, and come and tell grampa the news."</p>
+
+<p>The little girl hastily dried her face on the towel,
+and ran into the bedroom where grampa sat surveying
+them in bewilderment from the edge of his
+bed. Some time ago he had come to his room with
+the intention of undressing. His son's visit had
+upset him, and he had been sitting confusedly listening
+to the scraps of conversation he caught from
+different parts of the house.</p>
+
+<p>"Grampa, grampa!" cried 'Tilda Jane, running
+in, and excitedly waving her hands, "Hank's goin'
+to live at home with you, an' me, an' the dogs.
+We'll be a real family. Oh, ain't it lovely, ain't it
+lovely?" and catching hold of her skirts she began
+a sidling and peculiar dance about the room.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hank laughed till the tears came into his eyes.
+'Tilda Jane was good, but she was not graceful.
+Then his merriment over, he began to yawn, and
+'Tilda Jane, as keen of observation as ever, immediately
+espied this sign of fatigue.</p>
+
+<p>She caught up Gippie, who alone showed no pleasure
+at the prospect of having another inmate of
+the house, and danced out to the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"Come out, grampa dear," she called, "we'll
+all have a good supper, 'cause this is a most joyful
+'casion."</p>
+
+<p>As grampa started to limp out to the kitchen,
+Hank quietly placed himself by his side.</p>
+
+<p>The old man looked at him. "I'm not sorry
+you're going to stay," he remarked, gruffly. "They
+say there's no place like home."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better believe that's true, father," said
+Hank, warmly; "a fellow gets sick of hotels and
+boarding-houses. We'll have some more funds now
+that I'm going to get at some decent kind of work.
+You mustn't bother your head about expenses."</p>
+
+<p>The old man sank into his chair with a sigh of
+relief. His face was working strangely. Last year<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>
+at this time he was alone and miserable in a cheerless
+house. Now his son was with him, a brisk
+young girl was flying about his kitchen, a bright fire
+burned in the stove, a fire that was not unpleasantly
+warm to his aged limbs even on this summer night.
+A white cloth covered his formerly bare and uninviting
+table; he was going to have pie, and coffee,
+and toast and cake for supper,&mdash;surely the coming
+of this orphan had been a fortunate thing for him,
+and he slowly chafed his hands as he gazed at the
+glowing bed of coals.</p>
+
+<p>Hank was following 'Tilda Jane from kitchen to
+pantry, and from pantry to kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"You're getting to be a great housekeeper," he
+said, admiringly; "but we must not forget the
+schooling. It's a great thing to be educated. You
+can't hold your own in this world unless you know
+something. You wrote me Mrs. Tracy was teaching
+you some, didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane paused as she filled a sugar-bowl.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, three evenin's a week. She's a boss&mdash;I
+mean a good teacher. I learned some at the 'sylum,&mdash;no,
+the asylum, when I warn't&mdash;no, when I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>
+werent'&mdash;no, when I wasn't in the kitchen. And
+grampa talks to me some. He's a fine scholar."</p>
+
+<p>"That's good&mdash;get all you can; but three evenings
+a week ain't enough. As soon as I can compass
+it, I'll have some one to take care of father
+daytimes, and let you go to school."</p>
+
+<p>"To school!" said the little girl, "to learn more&mdash;to
+know how to speak proper! Oh, oh, I'm mos'
+too happy to live! Hank Dillson, I think you're
+the mos' beautiful man that was ever made!" and,
+dropping her sugar-bowl on the shelf, she seized a
+hand of the ex-creamery shark, and warmly pressed
+it between her little lean palms.</p>
+
+<p>Hank, in some embarrassment, murmured, "Oh,
+fudge, I'm not as good as the next one."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a million times better!" exclaimed 'Tilda
+Jane. "Oh, what a glad man Mr. Waysmith will
+be to have you in his mill! Come now, let's have
+supper. Dear ole grampa mus' get to bed. You
+wouldn't like to kill him with joy the first night
+you're home."</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later 'Tilda Jane was beaming
+behind the big coffee-pot. At last she had become<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>
+a member of a really happy family. Her dogs were
+stretched luxuriously on their rag mat by the stove,
+Grampa, calm and quiet, was sipping his coffee, and
+listening to some of Hank's travelling adventures.</p>
+
+<p>She could not contain her delight. Her heart
+was too full, and presently she burst into low, irrepressible
+laughter.</p>
+
+<p>Her companions stopped talking and stared at
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I can't help it!" she exclaimed, wildly,
+"I feel as if I'd come through a big sea of troubles
+to reach the promised land! I'm crazy&mdash;I'm
+crazy!" and too excited to keep still she pushed
+her chair aside, and rocked back and forth on her
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>She saw stretching before her a long vista of
+happy years&mdash;the sight was almost too much for
+her, yet even in her ecstasy she thought of other
+children less fortunate.</p>
+
+<p>"Hank, brother Hank!" she called suddenly,
+"the Tracys say to pass on blessings. All the
+world ain't joyful like us. When you make a little
+money will you let me write to the lady-boards for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>
+another orphan,&mdash;the ugliest little orphan they've
+got,&mdash;worse than me, if it's not unpossible."</p>
+
+<p>"You just write it down that I will," said Hank,
+gazing kindly and benevolently at her flushed face.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll do it," cried 'Tilda Jane. "We'll be
+good to that other orphan. I know they'll have
+one, but how can I wait? What shall I do? I
+mus' hug some one, I'm so happy!"</p>
+
+<p>She flashed a glance at the dogs. They were
+sleepy and comfortable. "Grampa, I guess it'll
+have to be you," she said, gaily, and, running to the
+old man, she threw her arms around his wrinkled
+neck, kissed his bald head, and fulfilled her promise
+of a hugging so vigorously that at last he called for
+mercy.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, I'll go take something," she said, demurely,
+and, with a last caress, "you darlin' ole
+grampa&mdash;I could eat you&mdash;Lord, give me a thankful
+heart for all these mercies," then, reverently
+bending her head over her plate, she took up her
+knife and fork with a long and happy sigh.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p2 pfs90">THE END.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p4" />
+<div><a name="PBC" id="PBC"></a></div>
+<hr class="fulla pg-brk" />
+<hr class="fulla" />
+
+<p class="p2 pfs135"><span class="smcap">L. C. Page &amp; Company's</span><br />
+Cosy Corner Series<br />
+<span class="xs">OF</span><br />
+Charming Juveniles</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep1x.jpg" width="20" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="pfs80">Each one volume, 16mo, cloth, Illustrated, 50 cents</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep1x.jpg" width="20" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="advert">
+
+<p><b>Ole Mammy's Torment.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Little Colonel.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Big Brother."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Big Brother.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Gate of the Giant Scissors.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Two Little Knights of Kentucky,</b> who were "The Little
+Colonel's" neighbors. By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A sequel to "The Little Colonel."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Story of Dago.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Farmer Brown and the Birds.</b> By <span class="smcap">Frances Margaret
+Fox</span>. A little story which teaches children that the birds
+are man's best friends.</p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Story of a Short Life.</b> By <span class="smcap">Juliana Horatia Ewing</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This beautiful and pathetic story is a part of the world's
+literature and will never die.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Jackanapes.</b> By <span class="smcap">Juliana Horatia Ewing</span>.</p>
+
+<p>A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite and
+touching story, dear alike to young and old.</p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Little Lame Prince.</b> By <span class="smcap">Miss Mulock</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures
+by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Adventures of a Brownie.</b> By <span class="smcap">Miss Mulock</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The story of a household elf who torments the cook and
+gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the children.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>His Little Mother.</b> By <span class="smcap">Miss Mulock</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant
+source of delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in
+this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts
+of readers.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Little Sunshine's Holiday.</b> By <span class="smcap">Miss Mulock</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">"Little Sunshine" is another of those beautiful child-characters
+for which Miss Mulock is so justly famous.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Wee Dorothy.</b> By <span class="smcap">Laura Updegraff</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the
+eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Rab and His Friends.</b> By Dr. <span class="smcap">John Brown</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known to
+need description.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Water People.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Lee Sleight</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Relating the further adventures of "Harry," the little hero
+of "The Prince of the Pin Elves."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Prince of the Pin Elves.</b> By <span class="smcap">Chas. Lee Sleight</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A fascinating story of the underground adventures of a
+sturdy, reliant American boy among the elves and
+gnomes.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Helena's Wonderworld.</b> By <span class="smcap">Frances Hodges White</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in the
+mysterious regions beneath the sea.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>For His Country.</b> By <span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A beautiful story of a patriotic little American lad.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Little Puritan's First Christmas.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edith Robinson</span>.</p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Little Daughter of Liberty.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edith Robinson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "A Loyal Little Maid," "A Little Puritan
+Rebel," etc.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A true story of the Revolution.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Little Puritan Rebel.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edith Robinson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">An historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the
+gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Loyal Little Maid.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edith Robinson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days,
+in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important
+services to George Washington and Alexander
+Hamilton.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Dog of Flanders.</b> <span class="smcap">A Christmas Story.</span> By <span class="smcap">Louise
+de la Ramée</span> (Ouida).</p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Nurnberg Stove.</b> By <span class="smcap">Louise de la Ramée</span> (Ouida).</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This beautiful story has never before been published at a
+popular price.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The King of the Golden River.</b> <span class="smcap">A Legend of Stiria</span>.
+By <span class="smcap">John Ruskin</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Written fifty years or more ago, this little fairy tale soon
+became known and made a place for itself.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>La Belle Nivernaise.</b> <span class="smcap">The Story of An Old Boat and
+Her Crew.</span> By <span class="smcap">Alphonse Daudet</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">It has been out of print for some time, and is now offered
+in cheap but dainty form in this new edition.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Young King.</b> <b>The Star Child.</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Two stories chosen from a recent volume by a gifted
+author, on account of their rare beauty, great power,
+and deep significance.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Great Emergency.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mrs. Ewing</span>.</p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Trinity Flower.</b> By <span class="smcap">Juliana Horatia Ewing</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. Ewing's
+best short stories for the young people.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Adventures of Beatrice and Jessie.</b> By <span class="smcap">Richard
+Mansfield</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A bright and amusing story of the strange adventures of
+two little girls in the "realms of unreality."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Child's Garden of Verses.</b> By <span class="smcap">R. L. Stevenson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This little classic is undoubtedly the best of all volumes of
+poetry for children.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Little King Davie.</b> By <span class="smcap">Nellie Hellis</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">It is sufficient to say of this book that it has sold over
+110,000 copies in England, and consequently should well
+be worthy of a place in "The Cosy Corner Series."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Little Peterkin Vandike.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Stuart Pratt</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The author's dedication furnishes a key to this charming
+story.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">"I dedicate this book, made for the amusement of the
+boys who may read it, to the memory of one boy, who
+would have enjoyed as much as Peterkin the plays of
+the Poetry Party."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Making of Zimri Bunker.</b> <span class="smcap">A Tale of Nantucket.</span>
+By <span class="smcap">W. J. Long</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The story deals with a sturdy American fisher lad during
+the war of 1812.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Fortunes of the Fellow.</b> By <span class="smcap">Will Allen Dromgoole</span>.
+A sequel to "The Farrier's Dog and His
+Fellow."</p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.</b> By <span class="smcap">Will Allen
+Dromgoole</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman,
+will appeal to all that is best in the natures of her many
+admirers.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Sleeping Beauty.</b> <span class="smcap">A Modern Version.</span> By <span class="smcap">Martha
+B. Dunn</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, intellectually
+"asleep," until she meets the "Fairy Prince."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Young Archer.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles E. Brimblecom</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied
+Columbus on his voyage to the New World.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="advert-box">
+
+<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2a">
+<p class="pfs240">Our Devoted Friend<br />
+the Dog</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By SARAH K. BOLTON</p>
+
+<p class="pfs80 wsp">AUTHOR OF "GIRLS WHO HAVE BECOME FAMOUS," ETC.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs100"><em>Fully illustrated with many reproductions from original
+photographs.</em></p>
+
+<p class="pfs100">1 vol., small quarto, $1.50</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>This book of the dog and his friends does for the
+canine member of the household what Helen M. Winslow's
+book, "Concerning Cats," did for the feline.
+No one who cares for dogs&mdash;and that class includes
+nearly all who do not care for cats, and some who do&mdash;will
+admit that the subject of Mrs. Bolton's book is a less
+felicitous choice than that of its predecessor; while the
+author's well-known ability as a writer and lecturer, as
+well as her sympathy with her subject, are a sufficient
+guarantee of a happy treatment.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2a">
+<p class="pfs150 lsp">THE</p>
+
+<p class="pfs240">Rosamond Tales</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By CUYLER REYNOLDS</p>
+
+<p><em>With many full-page illustrations from original photographs
+by the author, together with a frontispiece from a
+drawing by Maud Humphreys.</em></p>
+
+<p class="pfs100">Large 12mo, cloth, $1.50</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>These are just the bedtime stories that children always
+ask for, but do not always get. Rosamond and Rosalind
+are the hero and heroine of many happy adventures in
+town and on their grandfather's farm; and the happy
+listeners to their story will unconsciously absorb a vast
+amount of interesting knowledge of birds, animals, and
+flowers, just the things about which the curiosity of
+children from four to twelve years old is most insatiable.
+The book will be a boon to tired mothers, as a delight to
+wide-awake children.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2a">
+<p class="pfs150 lsp">THE</p>
+
+<p class="pfs240">Little Cousin Series</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By MARY F. WADE</p>
+
+<p class="pfs100">Four volumes, each illustrated, cloth, 12mo, 60 cents</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120">
+<span class="smcap">Volume I.</span><br />
+<span class="xl">Our Little Japanese Cousin</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Volume II.</span><br />
+<span class="xl">Our Little Brown Cousin</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Volume III.</span><br />
+<span class="xl">Our Little Indian Cousin</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Volume IV.</span><br />
+<span class="xl">Our Little Russian Cousin</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>These are the most interesting and delightful accounts
+possible of child-life in other lands, filled with quaint
+sayings, doings and adventures. The "Little Japanese
+Cousin," with her toys in her wide sleeve and her tiny
+bag of paper handkerchiefs; the "Little Brown Cousin,"
+in whose home the leaves of the breadfruit-tree serve for
+plates and the halves of the cocoanut shells for cups; the
+"Little Indian Cousin," who lives the free life of the
+forest, and the "Little Russian Cousin," who dwells by
+the wintry Neva, are truly fascinating characters to the
+little cousins who will read about them.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2a">
+<p class="pfs150 lsp">THE</p>
+
+<p class="pfs240">Cosy Corner Series</p>
+
+<p class="pfs80 wsp">A SERIES OF CHARMING ILLUSTRATED
+JUVENILES BY WELL-KNOWN AUTHORS</p>
+
+<p>We shall issue ten new volumes in this well-known
+series of child classics, and announce three as follows:</p>
+
+<p class="pfs180">A Little Puritan Pioneer</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By EDITH ROBINSON</p>
+
+<p>Author of "A Loyal Little Maid," "A Little Puritan's
+First Christmas," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs180">Madam Liberality</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By MRS. EWING</p>
+
+<p>Author of "Jackanapes," "A Great Emergency,"
+"Story of a Short Life," etc., etc.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs180">A Bad Penny</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By JOHN T. WHEELWRIGHT</p>
+
+<p>The other seven will include new stories by Louise
+de la Ramée, Miss Mulock, Nellie Hellis, Will Allen
+Dromgoole, etc., etc.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs100"><em>Forty-four volumes previously published</em></p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="p4 pfs135 pg-brk">Selections from<br />
+
+<span class="smcap">L. C. Page &amp; Company's</span><br />
+
+Books for Young People</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="advert">
+
+<p><b>Old Father Gander:</b> <span class="smcap">or, The Better-Half of Mother
+Goose</span>. <span class="smcap">Rhymes, Chimes, and Jingles</span> scratched from
+his own goose-quill for American Goslings. Illustrated
+with impossible Geese, hatched and raised by <span class="smcap">Walter
+Scott Howard</span>.</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., oblong quarto, cloth decorative</td><td class="tdr wd20">$2.00</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The illustrations are so striking and fascinating that the
+book will appeal to the young people aside from the fact
+even of the charm and humor of the songs and rhymes.
+There are thirty-two full-page plates, of which many are
+in color. The color illustrations are a distinct and successful
+departure from the old-fashioned lithographic
+work hitherto invariably used for children's books.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Crock of Gold:</b> <span class="smcap">A New Book of Fairy Tales</span>.
+By <span class="smcap">S. Baring Gould</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Mehalah," "Old Country Life," "Old English
+Fairy Tales," etc. With twenty-five full-page illustrations
+by F. D. Bedford.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., tall 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top</td><td class="tdr">$1.50</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This volume will prove a source of delight to the children
+of two continents, answering their always increasing demand
+for "more fairy stories."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Shireen and Her Friends:</b> <span class="smcap">The Autobiography of a
+Persian Cat</span>. By <span class="smcap">Gordon Stables</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Illustrated by Harrison Weir.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative</td><td class="tdr">$1.25</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A more charming book about animals Dr. Stables himself
+has not written. It is similar in character to "Black
+Beauty," "Beautiful Joe," and other books which teach
+us to love and protect the dumb animals.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Bully, Fag, and Hero.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles J. Mansford</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">With six full-page illustrations by S. H. Vedder.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top</td><td class="tdr">$1.50</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">An interesting story of schoolboy life and adventure in
+school and during the holidays.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Adventures of a Boy Reporter</b> <span class="smcap">in the Philippines</span>.
+By <span class="smcap">Harry Steele Morrison</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "A Yankee Boy's Success."</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated</td><td class="tdr">$1.25</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A true story of the courage and enterprise of an American
+lad. It is a splendid boys' book, filled with healthy interest,
+and will tend to stimulate and encourage the proper
+ambition of the young reader.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Tales Told in the Zoo.</b> By <span class="smcap">F. C. Gould</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">With many illustrations from original drawings.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large quarto</td><td class="tdr">$2.00</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A new book for young people on entirely original lines.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The tales are supposed to be told by an old adjutant stork
+in the Zoological Gardens to the assembled birds located
+there, and they deal with legendary and folk-lore stories
+of the origins of various creatures, mostly birds, and
+their characteristics.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Philip:</b> <span class="smcap">The Story of a Boy Violinist</span>. By T. W. O.</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., 12mo, cloth</td><td class="tdr">$1.00</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The life-story of a boy, reared among surroundings singular
+enough to awaken interest at the start, is described by
+the present author as it could be described only by one
+thoroughly familiar with the scene. The reader is carried
+from the cottages of the humblest coal-miners into the
+realms of music and art; and the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">finale</i> of this charming
+tale is a masterpiece of pathetic interest.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Black Beauty:</b> <span class="smcap">The Autobiography of a Horse</span>. By
+<span class="smcap">Anna Sewell</span>. <em>New Illustrated Edition.</em></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">With twenty-five full-page drawings by Winifred Austin.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top</td><td class="tdr">$1.25</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">There have been many editions of this classic, but we confidently
+offer this one as the most appropriate and handsome
+yet produced. The illustrations are of special
+value and beauty, and should make this the standard
+edition wherever illustrations worthy of the story are
+desired.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Voyage of the Avenger:</b> <span class="smcap">In the Days of the
+Dashing Drake</span>. By <span class="smcap">Henry St. John</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "A Middy of Nelson's Day," etc. With twenty-five
+full-page illustrations by Paul Hardy.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., tall 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 400 pages</td><td class="tdr">$1.50</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A book of adventure, the scene of which is laid in that
+stirring period of colonial extension when England's
+famous naval heroes encountered the ships of Spain,
+both at home and in the West Indies. Mr. St. John
+has given his boy readers a rattling good story of the
+sea. There is plenty of adventure, sufficient in fact to
+keep a boy fixed near the fireside until the last page is
+reached.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Child's History of Spain.</b> By <span class="smcap">Leonard Williams</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Ballads and Songs of Spain," etc.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., small 12mo, with frontispiece, cloth, gilt top</td><td class="tdr">$0.75</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Although the recent war with Spain has aroused general
+interest and caused a great demand for literature relating
+to the subject, there has not as yet been published a condensed
+history of Spain for young people. Mr. Williams's
+little book will prove a desirable addition to the children's
+historical library.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Fairy Folk from Far and Near.</b> By <span class="smcap">A. C. Woolf</span>, M. A.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">With numerous full-page color illustrations by Hans Reitz.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative</td><td class="tdr">$1.50</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">It is long since there has appeared such a thoroughly delightful
+volume of fairy tales as that of Annie C. Woolf.
+An added attraction to the book is found in the exquisite
+colored illustrations, the work of Hans Reitz. As a
+Christmas gift-book to children, these tales will be hard
+to excel.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Magnet Stories.</b> By <span class="smcap">Lynde Palmer</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A new edition; new binding and larger size volume, 5 vols.,
+12mo. Reduced price.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl wd90">Drifting and Steering</td><td class="tdr">$1.00</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">One Day's Weaving</td><td class="tdr">1.00</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">Archie's Shadow</td><td class="tdr">1.00</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">John-Jack</td><td class="tdr">1.00</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">Jeannette's Cisterns</td><td class="tdr">1.00</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="advert-box">
+
+<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2a">
+<p class="pfs150 lsp">THE</p>
+
+<p class="pfs240">Woodranger Tales</p>
+
+<div class="p1"></div>
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">Volume III.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs180">The Hero of the Hills</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By G. WALDO BROWNE</p>
+
+<div class="p1"></div>
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">Volume I.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs180">The Woodranger</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By G. WALDO BROWNE</p>
+
+<div class="p1"></div>
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">Volume II.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs180">The Young Gunbearer</p>
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By G. WALDO BROWNE</p>
+
+<p class="pfs100">Each large 12mo, cloth, fully illustrated, $1.00</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>There is the reality of history behind these stories,
+the successful series of "Woodranger Tales," the scope
+and trend of which are accurately set forth in the title.
+While full of adventure, the interest in which sometimes
+rises to the pitch of excitement, the stories are not sensational,
+for Mr. Browne writes with dignity, if with liveliness.
+The books will not fail to interest any lively,
+wholesome-minded boy.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2a">
+<p class="pfs240 lsp">Prince Harold</p>
+
+<p class="pfs80">A FAIRY STORY</p>
+<br />
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By L. F. BROWN</p>
+<br />
+<p class="pfs100"><em>With ninety full-page illustrations</em></p>
+<br />
+<p class="pfs100">Large 12mo, cloth, $1.50</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>A delightful fairy tale for children, dealing with the
+life of a charming young Prince, who, aided by the Moon
+Spirit, discovers, after many adventures, a beautiful girl
+whom he makes his Princess. He is so enamored that
+he dwells with his bride in complete seclusion for a
+while, entrusting the conduct of his kingdom meantime
+to his monkey servant, Longtail. The latter marries
+a monkey princess from Amfalulu, and their joint reign is
+described with the drollest humor. The real rulers
+finally return and upset the reign of the pretenders. An
+original and fascinating story for young people.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p class="p2 pfs135 pg-brk"><span class="smcap">L. C. Page &amp; Company's</span><br />
+Gift Book Series<br />
+<span class="xs">FOR</span><br />
+Boys and Girls</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="pfs80">Each one volume, tall 12mo, cloth, Illustrated, $1.00</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="advert">
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Little Colonel's House Party.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Little Colonel," etc. Illustrated by E. B. Barry.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Mrs. Johnston has endeared herself to the children by her
+charming little books published in the Cosy Corner
+Series. Accordingly, a longer story by her will be
+eagerly welcomed by the little ones who have so much
+enjoyed each story from her pen.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Chums.</b> By <span class="smcap">Maria Louise Pool</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Little Bermuda," etc. Illustrated by L. J.
+Bridgman.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">"Chums" is a girls' book, about girls and for girls. It relates
+the adventures, in school, and during vacation, of
+two friends.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Three Little Crackers.</b> <span class="smcap">From Down in Dixie</span>. By <span class="smcap">Will
+Allen Dromgoole</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Farrier's Dog." A fascinating story for
+boys and girls, of the adventures of a family of Alabama
+children who move to Florida and grow up in the South.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Miss Gray's Girls:</b> <span class="smcap">or, Summer Days in the Scottish
+Highlands</span>. By <span class="smcap">Jeannette A. Grant</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A delightfully told story of a summer trip through Scotland,
+somewhat out of the beaten track. A teacher,
+starting at Glasgow, takes a lively party of girls, her
+pupils, through the Trossachs to Oban, through the
+Caledonian Canal to Inverness, and as far north as
+Brora.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>King Pippin:</b> <span class="smcap">A Story for Children</span>. By <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gerard
+Ford</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Pixie."</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">One of the most charming books for young folks which
+has been issued for some time. The hero is a lovable
+little fellow, whose frank and winning ways disarm even
+the crustiest of grandmothers, and win for him the affection
+of all manner of unlikely people.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Feats on the Fiord:</b> <span class="smcap">A Tale of Norwegian Life</span>. By
+<span class="smcap">Harriet Martineau</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This admirable book, read and enjoyed by so many young
+people, deserves to be brought to the attention of parents
+in search of wholesome reading for their children to-day.
+It is something more than a juvenile book, being really
+one of the most instructive books about Norway and
+Norwegian life and manners ever written.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Songs and Rhymes for the Little Ones.</b> Compiled by <span class="smcap">Mary
+Whitney Morrison</span> (Jenny Wallis).</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">New edition, with an introduction by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">No better description of this admirable book can be given
+than Mrs. Whitney's happy introduction:</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">"One might almost as well offer June roses with the assurance
+of their sweetness, as to present this lovely little
+gathering of verse, which announces itself, like them, by
+its own deliciousness. Yet, as Mrs. Morrison's charming
+volume has long been a delight to me, I am only too
+happy to declare that it is to me&mdash;and to two families
+of my grandchildren&mdash;the most bewitching book of
+songs for little people that we have ever known."</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Young Pearl Divers:</b> <span class="smcap">A Story of Australian Adventure
+by Land and by Sea</span>. By <span class="smcap">Lieut. H.
+Phelps Whitmarsh</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This is a splendid story for boys, by an author who writes
+in vigorous and interesting language, of scenes and adventures
+with which he is personally acquainted.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Woodranger.</b> By <span class="smcap">G. Waldo Browne</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The first of a series of five volumes entitled "The Woodranger
+Tales."</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Although based strictly on historical facts the book is an
+interesting and exciting tale of adventure, which will
+delight all boys, and be by no means unwelcome to their
+elders.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Three Children of Galilee:</b> <span class="smcap">A Life of Christ for the
+Young</span>. By <span class="smcap">John Gordon</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">There has long been a need for a Life of Christ for the
+young, and this book has been written in answer to this
+demand. That it will meet with great favor is beyond
+question, for parents have recognized that their boys and
+girls want something more than a Bible story, a dry
+statement of facts, and that, in order to hold the attention
+of the youthful readers, a book on this subject
+should have life and movement as well as scrupulous
+accuracy and religious sentiment.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Little Bermuda.</b> By <span class="smcap">Maria Louise Pool</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Dally," "A Redbridge Neighborhood," "In a
+Dike Shanty," "Friendship and Folly," etc.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The adventures of "Little Bermuda" from her home in
+the tropics to a fashionable American boarding-school.
+The resulting conflict between the two elements in her
+nature, the one inherited from her New England ancestry,
+and the other developed by her West Indian surroundings,
+gave Miss Pool unusual opportunity for
+creating an original and fascinating heroine.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Wild Ruthvens:</b> <span class="smcap">A Home Story</span>. By <span class="smcap">Curtis York</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A story illustrating the mistakes, failures, and successes of
+a family of unruly but warm-hearted boys and girls.
+They are ultimately softened and civilized by the influence
+of an invalid cousin, Dick Trevanion, who comes to
+live with them.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Adventures of a Siberian Cub.</b> Translated from the
+Russian of Slibitski by <span class="smcap">Leon Golschmann</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This is indeed a book which will be hailed with delight, especially
+by children who love to read about animals.
+The interesting and pathetic adventures of the orphan-bear,
+Mishook, will appeal to old and young in much the
+same way as have "Black Beauty" and "Beautiful Joe."</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Timothy Dole.</b> By <span class="smcap">Juniata Salsbury</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The youthful hero, and a genuine hero he proves to be,
+starts from home, loses his way, meets with startling adventures,
+finds friends, kind and many, and grows to be a
+manly man. It is a wholesome and vigorous book, that
+boys and girls, and parents as well, will read and enjoy.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="transnote pg-brk">
+<a name="TN" id="TN"></a>
+
+<p><strong>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</strong></p>
+
+<p>Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
+corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
+the text and consultation of external sources.</p>
+
+<p>Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
+and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. For example:
+writing-pad, writing pad; cocoanut; curtsey; beshawled.</p>
+
+<p>
+<a href="#Page_38">Pg 38</a>, 'Onct our washerwoman' replaced by 'Once our washerwoman'.<br />
+<a href="#Page_38">Pg 38</a>, 'Onct I took' replaced by 'Once I took'.<br />
+<a href="#Page_42">Pg 42</a>, 'Onct when cats come' replaced by 'Once when cats come'.<br />
+<a href="#Page_90">Pg 90</a>, 'dare the undarable' replaced by 'dare the undareable'.<br />
+<a href="#Page_163">Pg 163</a>, 'only onct a day?' replaced by 'only once a day?'.<br />
+<a href="#Page_180">Pg 180</a>, 'onct have blue eyes' replaced by 'once have blue eyes'.<br />
+<a href="#Page_269">Pg 269</a>, "You mus' he" replaced by "You mus' be".<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><a href="#PBC">Publisher's Book Catalog:</a><br />
+In the Cosy Corner Series, 'and announce four' replaced by 'and
+announce three'.</p>
+
+<p>A page from 'Gift Series for Boys and Girls' has been moved to its
+proper position at the end of that section. This page described
+'Three Children of Galilee' through 'Timothy Dole'.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52018 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/52018-8.txt b/old/52018-8.txt
index d737a91..c60f4d4 100644
--- a/52018-8.txt
+++ b/old/52018-8.txt
@@ -1,7578 +1,7578 @@
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of 'Tilda Jane, by Marshall Saunders

-

-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

-almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license

-

-

-Title: 'Tilda Jane

-       An Orphan in Search of a Home

-

-Author: Marshall Saunders

-

-Illustrator: Clifford Carleton

-

-Release Date: May 7, 2016 [EBook #52018]

-

-Language: English

-

-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

-

-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 'TILDA JANE ***

-

-

-

-

-Produced by David Edwards, John Campbell and the Online

-Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This

-file was produced from images generously made available

-by The Internet Archive)

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-  TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

-

-  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

-

-  Bold text is denoted by =equal signs=.

-

-  Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been

-  corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within

-  the text and consultation of external sources.

-

-  More detail can be found at the end of the book.

-

-

-

-

-'TILDA JANE

-

-

-

-

-Works of

-

-Marshall Saunders

-

-

-  Rose à Charlitte

-  Her Sailor

-  Deficient Saints

-  For His Country and Grandmother and the Crow

-  'Tilda Jane

-

-

-  L. C. PAGE & COMPANY,

-  Publishers

-  200 Summer Street, Boston, Mass.

-

-[Illustration: "SHE SPELLED OUT THE INFORMATION, 'I AM AN ORPHAN.'"

-  (_See page 80_)]

-

-

-

-

-  'TILDA JANE

-

-  AN ORPHAN IN SEARCH OF A HOME

-

-  _A Story for Boys and Girls_

-

-  BY

-  MARSHALL SAUNDERS

-  AUTHOR OF "BEAUTIFUL JOE," "FOR HIS COUNTRY,"

-  "ROSE À CHARLITTE," "HER SAILOR,"

-  "DEFICIENT SAINTS," ETC.

-

-  Illustrated by

-  CLIFFORD CARLETON

-  _By courtesy of The Youth's Companion_

-

-  "My brother, when thou seest a poor man,

-  behold in him a mirror of the Lord."

-  --ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI.

-

-  [Illustration: (publisher's colophon)]

-

-  BOSTON

-  L. C. PAGE & COMPANY

-  1901

-

-

-

-

-  _Copyright, 1901_

-  BY PERRY MASON COMPANY

-

-  _Copyright, 1901_

-  BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY

-  (Incorporated)

-

-  _All rights reserved_

-

-

-  Colonial Press

-  Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.

-  Boston, Mass., U. S. A.

-

-

-

-

-  I DEDICATE THIS STORY TO

-  EMILE HUGUENIN, JEAN BRUN,

-  GERALD MUIR, SANFORD ROTHENBURG,

-  HARRY KRUGER, MAUGHS BROWN,

-  AND

-  ROBBIE MACLEAN,

-  BOYS OF BELMONT SCHOOL WHO USED TO GATHER ROUND ME

-  ON SUNDAY AFTERNOONS AND BEG FOR A MANUSCRIPT

-  READING OF THE TRIALS OF MY ORPHAN

-  IN SEARCH OF A HOME.

-

-

-

-

-  _Owing to the exigencies of serial publication, the story of

-  "'Tilda Jane," as it appeared in The Youth's Companion, was

-  somewhat condensed. In the present version the omitted portions

-  have been restored, and the story published in its original form._

-

-

-

-

-CONTENTS.

-

-

-  CHAPTER                                    PAGE

-

-  I.     A CREAMERY SHARK                      11

-

-  II.    EVEN SHARKS HAVE TENDER HEARTS        26

-

-  III.   THE STORY OF HER LIFE                 36

-

-  IV.    UNSTABLE AS WATER                     50

-

-  V.     ANOTHER ADVENTURE                     61

-

-  VI.    DEAF AND DUMB                         75

-

-  VII.   CLEARING UP A MISTAKE                 85

-

-  VIII.  A THIRD RUNNING AWAY                  94

-

-  IX.    LOST IN THE WOODS                    107

-

-  X.     AMONG FRIENDS                        121

-

-  XI.    A SUDDEN RESOLUTION                  136

-

-  XII.   FAREWELL TO THE POACHERS             151

-

-  XIII.  AN ATTEMPTED TRICK                   164

-

-  XIV.   HOME, SWEET HOME                     171

-

-  XV.    THE FRENCH FAMILY                    186

-

-  XVI.   THE TIGER IN HIS LAIR                194

-

-  XVII.  THE TIGER MAKES A SPRING             206

-

-  XVIII. IN SEARCH OF A PERFECT MAN           217

-

-  XIX.   SWEET AND SOFT REPENTANCE            230

-

-  XX.    WAITING                              240

-

-  XXI.   THE TIGER BECOMES A LAMB             246

-

-  XXII.  A TROUBLED MIND                      257

-

-  XXIII. AN UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE             266

-

-  XXIV.  A FRIEND IN NEED                     275

-

-

-

-

-LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

-

-

-                                                    PAGE

-

-  "SHE SPELLED OUT THE INFORMATION, 'I AM AN

-  ORPHAN'" (_See page 80_)                _Frontispiece_

-

-  "'WELL, I VUM!'"                                    15

-

-  "'TILDA JANE SAT LIKE A STATUE"                     45

-

-  "'I'M GOIN' TO REPENT SOME DAY'"                    92

-

-  "HE LAY DOWN BESIDE HER"                           116

-

-  "'STOP THAR--STOP! STOP!'"                         168

-

-  "'YOU ARE YOUNG FOR THAT, _MADEMOISELLE_,

-  YET--'"                                            190

-

-  "HE LIFTED UP HIS VOICE AND ROARED AT HER"         215

-

-  "'I'VE LED ANOTHER DOG ASTRAY, AN' NOW HE'S

-  DEAD'"                                             235

-

-  "'THEY WAS GLAD TO GET RID OF ME'"                 258

-

-

-

-

-'TILDA JANE.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER I.

-

-A CREAMERY SHARK.

-

-

-The crows had come back. With the fashionables of Maine they had gone

-south for the winter, but now on the third day of March the advance

-guard of the solemn, black army soared in sight.

-

-They were cawing over the green pine woods of North Marsden, they

-were cawing over the black spruces of South Marsden, and in Middle

-Marsden, where the sun had melted the snow on a few exposed knolls,

-they were having a serious and chattering jubilation over their

-return to their summer haunts.

-

-"Land! ain't they sweet!" muttered a little girl, who was herself

-almost as elfish and impish as a crow. She stood with clasped hands

-in the midst of a spruce thicket. Her face was upturned to the hot

-sun set in the hard blue of the sky. The sun burned her, the wind

-chilled her, but she remained motionless, except when the sound of

-sleigh-bells was heard. Then she peered eagerly out into the road.

-

-Time after time she returned to her hiding-place with a muttered,

-"No good!" She allowed a priest to go by, two gossiping women on

-their way from the village to spend a day in the country, a minister

-hurrying to the sick-bed of a parishioner, and several loaded

-wood-sleds, but finally a hilarious jingle drew her hopefully from

-her retreat.

-

-Her small black eyes screwed themselves into two glittering points as

-she examined the newcomer.

-

-"He'll do!" she ejaculated; then, with a half-caressing,

-half-threatening, "You'll get murdered if there's a word out o' you,"

-addressed to an apparent roll of cloth tucked among spruce branches a

-few feet from the ground, she stepped out by the snake fence.

-

-"Hello, mister!"

-

-The fat young man bobbing over the "thank-you-ma'ams" of the snowy

-road, pulled himself up with a jerk in his small sleigh drawn by a

-long-legged mare.

-

-"Coronation! Where did that noise come from? Hello, wood-lark," as he

-observed the little girl peeping at him through the fence, "is there

-a hawk in your nest?"

-

-"Who be you?" she asked.

-

-"I've got an awful pretty name," he replied, flicking his whip over

-the snow-bank beside him, "too pretty to tell."

-

-"Who be you?" she asked, pertinaciously.

-

-"Ever hear tell of a creamery shark?"

-

-"I didn't know as sharks favoured cream," she said, soberly.

-

-"They dote on it."

-

-"Be you a creamery shark?"

-

-"No--course not. I'm chasing one. I'm a farmer."

-

-The small, keen-eyed girl looked him all over. He was the creamery

-shark himself, and he certainly had an oily, greasy appearance

-befitting his fondness for cream. However, she did not care what he

-was if he served her purpose.

-

-"Will you gimme a lift?" she asked.

-

-"A lift--where?"

-

-"Anywhere out o' this," and she pointed back to the smart, white

-village up the river.

-

-"Now what be you?" he said, cunningly.

-

-"I be a runaway."

-

-"What you running from?"

-

-"I'm a-runnin' from an orphan 'sylum."

-

-"Good for you--where you going?"

-

-"I'm goin' to Orstralia."

-

-"Better for you--what you going there for?"

-

-"'Cause," she said, firmly, "they know how to treat orphans there.

-They don't shut 'em up together like a lot o' sick pigs. They scatter

-'em in families. The gover'ment pays their keep till they get old

-enough to fend for themselves. Then they gets a sum o' money an' they

-works--I heard a lady-board readin' it in a newspaper."

-

-"A lady-board?"

-

-"Yes--lady-boards has to run 'sylums."

-

-"Course they do. Well, skip in, little un."

-

-[Illustration: "'WELL, I VUM!'"]

-

-"There's another passenger," she said, firmly; "an' them as takes me

-takes him."

-

-"Have you got your granddaddy along?"

-

-"No, siree, but I've got somethin' mos' as good as a granddaddy, an'

-I'd thank you to keep a straight tongue when you speak of him."

-

-The young man put the offending tongue in his cheek, and chuckled

-enjoyably as the small, elfish figure disappeared in the wood.

-Presently she returned with a good-sized bundle in her arms, that she

-thrust through the fence.

-

-"Give it a name," said the young man; "why, see how it's

-wiggling--must be some kind of an animal. Cat, weasel, rabbit, hen,

-dog--"

-

-"Stop there," she ejaculated; "let it be dog. His name's Gippie."

-

-"Well, I vum!" the young man said, good-naturedly, as she approached

-the sleigh and deposited her beshawled dog on his knees.

-

-"I guess this sleigh warn't built for two," she said, as she crawled

-in beside him.

-

-"Right you are; but you don't want to be carted far."

-

-"Gimme that dog," she said, taking the bundle, "an' start off.

-Prob'ly they're just hitchin' up to be after me."

-

-He clicked his tongue to the long-legged mare, and speedily fences

-and trees began to fly by them.

-

-"What did you twig me for?" asked the fat young man. "Ain't you had

-no other chance?"

-

-"Lots," she said, briefly.

-

-"There was an ole boy ahead o' me with a two-seated rig, an' a

-youngster on the back seat. Why didn't you freeze on to him?"

-

-She turned her little dark face toward him, a little face overspread

-by sudden passion. "D'ye know what that ole shell-back would 'a'

-done?"

-

-"He'd 'a' took ye in."

-

-"He'd 'a' druv me back to that 'sylum. He looked too good, that one.

-You looked like a baddie."

-

-"Much obliged," he said, dryly.

-

-"I guess you've done bad things," she said, inexorably. "You've stole

-pies, an' tole lies, an' fed dogs an' cats on the sly. I guess you've

-been found out."

-

-The fat young man fell into a sudden reverie, and they passed several

-white fields in silence.

-

-"They'll never ketch me," she said at last, gleefully; "we're goin'

-like the wind."

-

-The young man looked down at her. She had the appearance of a

-diminutive witch as she sat with one hand clasping her faded hat, the

-other holding firmly to the bundle on her lap. Her countenance was so

-much older and shrewder in some phases than in others that the young

-man was puzzled to guess her age.

-

-"Why, you ain't got any cloak," he said. "That's nothing but a dress

-you've got on, ain't it? Take the shawl off that dog."

-

-"No, sir," she said, decidedly, "I don't do that."

-

-"Hold on; I've got a horse blanket here," and he dived under the

-seat. "There!" and he wrapped it around her shoulders.

-

-"Thanks," she said, briefly, and again her bird-like eyes scanned the

-road ahead.

-

-"Hot cakes an' syrup!" she exclaimed, in a voice of resigned

-distress, "there's the North Marsden lady-board comin'. They must

-have 'phoned her. Say, mister, lemme sneak under here. If she holes

-you up, you'll have to tell a lie."

-

-The young man grinned delightedly as the little girl slipped through

-the blanket and disappeared under the lap-robe. Then he again went

-skimming over the snow.

-

-There was a very grand sleigh approaching him, with a befurred

-coachman on the seat driving a pair of roan horses, and behind him a

-gray-haired lady smothered in handsome robes.

-

-"Please stop!" she called pathetically, to the approaching young man.

-

-The creamery shark pulled up his mare, and blinked thoughtfully at

-her.

-

-"Oh, have you seen a little girl?" she said excitedly; "a poor little

-girl, very thin and miserable, and with a lame, brown dog limping

-after her? She's wandering somewhere--the unfortunate, misguided

-child. We have had such trouble with her at the Middle Marsden

-Asylum--the orphan asylum, you know. We have fed her and clothed her,

-and now she's run away."

-

-The fat young man became preternaturally solemn, the more so as he

-heard a low growl somewhere in the region of his feet.

-

-"Did she have black hair as lanky as an Injun's?" he asked.

-

-"Yes, yes."

-

-"And a kind o' sickly green dress?"

-

-"Oh, yes, and a dark complexion."

-

-"And a sort of steely air as if she'd dare the world?"

-

-"That's it; oh, yes, she wasn't afraid of any one."

-

-"Then I've sighted your game," he said, gravely, very gravely,

-considering that the "game" was pinching one of his legs.

-

-"I'll give you the scent," he went on. "Just follow this road till

-you come to the three pine-trees at the cross. Then turn toward

-Spruceville."

-

-"Oh, thank you, thank you. I'm ever so much obliged. But was she on

-foot or driving?"

-

-"Driving like sixty, sitting up on the seat beside a smooth old

-farmer with a red wig on, and a face as long as a church."

-

-"A red wig!" exclaimed the lady. "Why, that's Mr. Dabley--he's one of

-our advisory committee."

-

-"Dabley or Grabley, he's driving with one of your orphans. I see her

-as plain as day sitting beside him--brown face, faded black hat,

-sickly green frock, bundle on her lap."

-

-"Farmer Dabley--incredible! How one can be deceived. Drive on,

-Matthew. We must try to overtake them. Had he one horse or two?"

-

-"A pair, ma'am--a light-legged team--a bay and a cream. He's a

-regular old sport."

-

-"He's a Mephistopheles if he's helping that child to escape," said

-the lady, warmly. "I'll give him a piece of my mind."

-

-Her coachman started his horses, and the little girl under the robe

-was beginning to breathe freely when a shout from the young man

-brought her heart to her mouth.

-

-"Say, ma'am, was that a striped or a plain shawl she had her dog

-wrapped in?"

-

-"Striped--she had the impudence to steal it from the matron, and

-leave a note saying she did it because her jacket was locked up, and

-she was afraid her dog would freeze--I'm under a great obligation to

-you, sir."

-

-"No obligation," he said, lifting his hat. "I'm proud to set you on

-the chase after such a bad young one. That's your girl, ma'am. Her

-shawl was striped. I didn't tell you she had the nerve to ask me to

-take her in."

-

-"Not really--did she?" the lady called back; then she added,

-wonderingly, "but I thought you met her driving with Farmer Dabley?"

-

-They had both turned around, and were talking over their shoulders.

-

-There was a terrible commotion under the lap-robe, and the young man

-felt that he must be brief.

-

-"If you bark I'll break your neck," he heard the refugee say in a

-menacing whisper, and, to cover a series of protesting growls, he

-shouted, lustily, "Yes, ma'am, but first I passed her on foot. Then I

-turned back, and she was with the farmer. That young one has got the

-face of a government mule, but I'm used to mules, and when she asked

-me I said, ''Pears to me, little girl, you favour a runaway, and I

-ain't got no room for runaways in this narrow rig, 'specially as I'm

-taking a bundle of clothing to my dear old father'--likewise a young

-pig," he added, as there was a decided squeal from between his feet.

-

-"Thank you, thank you," came faintly after him as he started off at

-a spanking gait, and, "You're badder than I thought you was," came

-reproachfully from the tumbled head peeping above the lap-robe.

-

-"You're grateful!" he said, ironically.

-

-"I'm bad, but I only asked the Lord to forgive the lies I'd got to

-tell," said the little girl as she once more established herself on

-the seat. "You should 'a' said, 'No, ma'am, I didn't see the little

-girl'--an' druv on."

-

-"I guess you're kind of mixed in your opinions," he remarked.

-

-"I ain't mixed in my mind. I see things as straight as that air

-road," she replied. "I said, 'This is a bad business, for I've got to

-run away, but I'll be as square as I can.'"

-

-She paused suddenly, and her companion asked, "What's up with you?"

-

-"Nothin'," she said, faintly, "only I feel as if there was a rat

-inside o' me. You ain't got any crackers round, have you?"

-

-"No, but I've got something better," and he drew a flask from the

-pocket of his big ulster and put it to her mouth.

-

-Her nostrils dilated. "I'm a Loyal Legion girl."

-

-"Loyal Legion--what's that?"

-

-      "Beware of bottles, beware of cups,

-      Evil to him who evil sups."

-

-"Oh! a temperance crank," and he laughed. "Well, here's a hunk of

-cake I put in my pocket last night."

-

-The little girl ate with avidity the section of a rich fruit loaf he

-handed her.

-

-"How about your dog?" asked the young man.

-

-"Oh, I guess he ain't hungry," she said, putting a morsel against the

-brown muzzle thrust from the shawl. "Everythin' was locked up last

-night, an' there warn't enough lunch for him an' me--see, he ain't

-for it. He knows when hunger stops an' greed begins. That's poetry

-they taught us."

-

-"Tell us about that place you've been raised. No, stop--you're kind

-of peaked-looking. Settle down an' rest yourself till we pull up for

-dinner. I'll gabble on a bit if you'll give me a starter."

-

-"I guess you favour birds an' things, don't you?" she observed,

-shrewdly.

-

-"Yaw--do you?"

-

-"Sometimes I think I'm a bird," she said, vehemently, "or a worm or

-somethin'. If I could 'a' caught one o' them crows this mornin' I'd

-'a' hugged it an' kissed it. Ain't they lovely?"

-

-"Well, I don' know about lovely," said the young man, in a judicial

-manner, "but the crow, as I take him, is a kind of long-suffering

-orphan among birds. From the minute the farmers turn up these furrows

-under the snow, the crow works like fury. Grubs just fly down his

-red throat, and grasshoppers ain't nowhere, but because he now and

-then lifts a hill o' petetters, and pulls a mite o' corn when it gets

-toothsome, and makes way once in so often with a fat chicken that's

-a heap better out o' the world than in it, the farmers is down on

-him, the Legislature won't protect him, and the crow--man's good

-friend--gets shot by everybody and everything!"

-

-"I wish I was a queen," said the little girl, passionately.

-

-"Well, sissy, if you ever get to be one, just unmake a few laws that

-are passed to please the men who have a pull. Here in Maine you might

-take the bounty off bob-cats, an' let 'em have their few sheep, an'

-you might stand between the mink and the spawning trout, and if you

-want to put a check on the robins who make war on the cherries an'

-strawberries, I guess it would be more sensible than chasing up the

-crows."

-

-"I'm remarkin' that you don't beat your horse," said his companion,

-abruptly.

-

-"That mare," said the young man, reflectively, "is as smart as I be,

-and sometimes I think a thought smarter."

-

-"You wouldn't beat that little dog," she said, holding up her bundle.

-

-"Bet your striped shawl I wouldn't."

-

-"I like you," she said, emphatically. "I guess you ain't as bad as

-you look."

-

-The young man frowned slightly, and fell into another reverie.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER II.

-

-EVEN SHARKS HAVE TENDER HEARTS.

-

-

-The old Moss Glen Inn, elm-shaded and half covered by creeping vines,

-is a favourite resort for travellers in the eastern part of Maine,

-for there a good dinner can be obtained in a shorter space of time

-than in any other country hotel in the length and breadth of the

-State.

-

-"And all because there's a smart woman at the head of it," explained

-the young man to the little waif beside him. "There she is--always on

-hand."

-

-A round, good-natured face, crowning a rotund, generous figure,

-smiled at them from the kitchen window, but while the eyes smiled,

-the thick, full lips uttered a somewhat different message to a tall,

-thin woman, bending over the stove.

-

-"Ruth Ann, here's that soapy Hank Dillson round again,--takin' in the

-farmers, as usual, engagin' them to pay for machinery and buildings

-more than are needed, considerin' the number of their cows, an' he's

-got a washed-out lookin' young one with him. She'll make a breach in

-the victuals, I guess."

-

-Ruth Ann, who was her sister and helper in household affairs, came

-and looked over her shoulder, just as Dillson sprang from the sleigh.

-

-Mrs. Minley stepped to the door, and stood bobbing and smiling as he

-turned to her.

-

-"How de do, Mrs. Minley. Give this little girl a place to lie down

-till dinner's ready, will you? She's dead beat."

-

-'Tilda Jane walked gravely into the kitchen, and although her head

-was heavy, and her feet as light as if they were about to waft her to

-regions above, she took time to scrutinise the broad face that would

-have been generous but for the deceitful lips, and also to cast a

-glance at the hard, composed woman at the window, who looked as if

-her head, including the knob of tightly curled hair at the back, had

-been carved from flint.

-

-"Step right in this way," said Mrs. Minley, bustling into a small

-bedroom on the ground floor.

-

-'Tilda Jane was not used to being waited on, and for one proud moment

-she wished that the children in the orphan asylum could see her. Then

-a feeling of danger and insecurity overcame her, and she sank on one

-of the painted, wooden chairs.

-

-"You're done out," said Mrs. Minley, sympathetically. "Are you a

-relation of Mr. Dillson's?"

-

-"No, I ain't."

-

-"You can lie on that bed if you like," said Mrs. Minley, noticing the

-longing glance cast at it.

-

-"Well, I guess I will," said 'Tilda Jane, placing her bundle on a

-chair, and stooping down to unloose her shoes.

-

-"Stop till I get some newspapers to put on the bed," said the

-landlady--"what's in that package? It's moving," and she stared at

-the shawl.

-

-"It's a dog."

-

-"Mercy me! I don't allow no dogs in my house."

-

-"All right," said the little girl, patiently putting on her shoes

-again.

-

-"What you going to do, child?"

-

-"I'm goin' to the wood-shed. Them as won't have my dog won't have me."

-

-"Land sakes, child, stay where you be! I guess he can't do no harm if

-you'll watch him."

-

-"No ma'am, he'll not rampage. He's little, an' he's ole, an' he's

-lame, an' he don't care much for walkin'. Sometimes you'll hear

-nothin' out o' him all day but a growl or a snap."

-

-The landlady drew away from the bundle, and after she had seen the

-tired head laid on the pillow, she softly closed the door of the room.

-

-In two minutes 'Tilda Jane was asleep. The night before she had not

-dared to sleep. To-day, under the protection of the creamery shark,

-she could take her rest, her hunger satisfied by the cake he had

-given her in the sleigh. The shark crept in once to look at her.

-"Ain't she a sight?" he whispered to Mrs. Minley, who accompanied

-him, "a half-starved monkey."

-

-She playfully made a thrust at his ribs. "Oh, go 'long with

-you--always making your jokes! How can a child look like a monkey?"

-

-He smiled, well pleased at her cajoling tone, then, stretching

-himself out in an armchair, he announced that dinner must be

-postponed for an hour to let the child have her sleep out.

-

-Mrs. Minley kept a pleasant face before him, but gave vent to some

-suppressed grumbling in the kitchen. With fortitude remarkable in a

-hungry man, he waited until one o'clock, then, losing patience, he

-ate his dinner, and, telling Mrs. Minley that he had business in the

-neighbourhood, and would not be back until supper-time, he drove away

-in his sleigh.

-

-At six o'clock 'Tilda Jane felt herself gently shaken, and opening

-her eyes, she started up in alarm.

-

-"All right--'tain't the police," said Mrs. Minley. "I know all about

-you, little girl. You needn't be scared o' me. Get up and have a bite

-of supper. Mr. Dillson's going away, and he wants to see you."

-

-'Tilda Jane rose and put on her shoes in silence. Then she followed

-the landlady to the next room. For an instant she staggered back.

-She had never before seen such a huge, open fireplace, never had had

-such a picture presented to her in the steam-heated orphanage. Fresh

-from troubled dreams, it seemed as if these logs were giants' bodies

-laid crosswise. The red flames were from their blood that was being

-licked up against the sooty stones. Then the ghastliness vanished,

-and she approvingly took in the picture,--the fat young creamery

-shark standing over the white cat and rubbing her with his toe, the

-firelight on the wall and snowy table, and the big lamp on the mantel.

-

-"Hello!" he exclaimed, turning around, "did you make your sleep out?"

-

-"Yes sir," she said, briefly. "Where shall I put this dog?"

-

-"Don't put him nowhere till we turn this cat out. Scat, pussy!" and

-with his foot he gently assisted the small animal kitchenwards.

-

-"Now you can roast your pup here," he said, pointing to the vacated

-corner.

-

-"Don't touch him," warned 'Tilda Jane, putting aside his outstretched

-hand. "He nips worse'n a lobster."

-

-"Fine dog that," said the young man, ironically. "Come on now, let's

-fall to. I guess that rat's rampaging again."

-

-"Yes, he's pretty bad," said 'Tilda Jane, demurely; and she seated

-herself in the place indicated.

-

-Mrs. Minley waited on them herself, and, as she passed to and fro

-between the dining-room and kitchen, she bestowed many glances on the

-lean, lank, little girl with the brown face.

-

-After a time she nudged Hank with her elbow. "Look at her!"

-

-Hank withdrew his attention for a minute from his plate to cast a

-glance at the downcast head opposite. Then he dropped his knife and

-fork. "Look here! I call this kind of low-down."

-

-'Tilda Jane raised her moist eyes.

-

-"You've got ham and eggs; fried petetters and toast, and two kinds

-of preserve, and hot rolls and coffee, and cake and doughnuts, which

-is more'n you ever got at the asylum, I'll warrant, and yet you're

-crying,--and after all the trouble you've been to me. There's no

-satisfying some people."

-

-'Tilda Jane wiped her eyes. "I ain't a-cryin' for the 'sylum," she

-said, stolidly.

-

-"Then what are you crying for?"

-

-"I'm cryin' 'cause it's such a long way to Orstralia, an' I don't

-know no one. I wish you was a-goin'."

-

-"I wish I was, but I ain't. Come on now, eat your supper."

-

-"I suppose I be a fool," she muttered, picking up her knife and fork.

-"I've often heard I was."

-

-"Hi now--I guess you feel better, don't you?" said the young man,

-twenty minutes later.

-

-He was in excellent humour himself, and, sitting tilted back in his

-chair by the fireplace, played a tune on his big white teeth with a

-toothpick.

-

-"Yes, I guess I'm better," said 'Tilda Jane, soberly. "That was a

-good supper."

-

-"Hadn't you better feed your pup?" asked the young man. "Seems to me

-he must be dead, he's so quiet."

-

-"He's plumb beat out, I guess," said the little girl, and she

-carefully removed the dog's queer drapery.

-

-A little, thin, old, brown cur staggered out, with lips viciously

-rolled back, and a curious unsteadiness of gait.

-

-"Steady, old boy," said the young man; "my soul and body, he ain't

-got but three legs! Whoa--you're running into the table."

-

-"He don't see very well," said 'Tilda Jane, firmly. "His eyes is

-poor."

-

-"What's the matter with his tail? It don't seem to be hung on right."

-

-"It wobbles from having tin cans tied to it. Gippie dear, here's a

-bone."

-

-"Gippie dear," muttered the young man. "I'd shoot him if he was my

-dog."

-

-"If that dog died, I'd die," said the little girl, passionately.

-

-"We've got to keep him alive, then," said the young man,

-good-humouredly. "Can't you give him some milk?"

-

-She poured out a saucer full and set it before him. The partially

-blind dog snapped at the saucer, snapped at her fingers until

-he smelled them and discovered whose they were, then he finally

-condescended to lick out the saucer.

-

-"And you like that thing?" said the young man, curiously.

-

-"Like him!--I love him," said 'Tilda Jane, affectionately stroking

-the brown, ugly back.

-

-"And when did he give away that leg?"

-

-She shook her head. "It's long to tell. I guess you'd ask me to shut

-up afore I got through."

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER III.

-

-THE STORY OF HER LIFE.

-

-

-The young man said nothing more at the time, but ten minutes later,

-when he was thoughtfully smoking a long brown pipe, and 'Tilda Jane

-sat in a chair beside him, rocking her dog, he called out to Mrs.

-Minley, who was hovering about the room. "Sit down, Mrs. Minley.

-P'raps you can get this little girl to talk; I can't."

-

-'Tilda Jane turned sharply to him. "Oh, mister, I'd do anything for

-you. I'll talk."

-

-"Well, reel it off then. I've got to start soon."

-

-"What d'ye want to know?" she said, doggedly.

-

-"Everything; tell me where you started from. Was you born in the

-asylum?"

-

-"Nobody don't know where I was born. Nobody don't know who I am,

-'cept that a woman come to the poorhouse with me to Middle Marsden

-when I was a baby. She died, an' I was left. They give me the name

-of 'Tilda Jane Harper, an' put me in the 'sylum. Children come an'

-went. Just as soon as I'd get to like 'em they'd be 'dopted; I never

-was 'dopted, 'cause I'm so ugly. My eyes ought to 'a' been blue, an'

-my hair curly. I might 'a' been a servant, but my habits was in the

-way."

-

-"Habits--what habits?" asked Hank.

-

-"Habits of impidence an' pig-headedness. When the men come to kill

-the pigs I'd shut myself in my room, an' put my fingers in my ears,

-an' I couldn't hear, but I'd always squeal when the pigs squealed."

-

-"Is that why you wouldn't eat your ham just now?"

-

-"Oh, that ain't ham to me," she said, eloquently. "That bit o' red

-meat was a cunnin', teeny white pig runnin' round a pen, cryin'

-'cause the butcher's after him. I couldn't eat it, any more'n I'd eat

-my brother."

-

-"You're a queer little kite," interjected the young man, and he

-exchanged an amused glance with Mrs. Minley, who was swaying gently

-back and forth in a rocking-chair.

-

-"So you wasn't very much set up at the asylum?" he went on.

-

-"I guess I'm too bad for a 'sylum. Once our washerwoman took me home

-to supper. I guess heaven must be like that. They had a cat, too. I

-used to get in most trouble at the 'sylum 'bout cats. When starvin'

-ones came rubbin' up agin me in the garden, I couldn't help sneakin'

-them a bit o' bread from the pantry. It beats all, how cats find out

-people as likes 'em. Then I'd get jerked up."

-

-"Jerked up?" repeated her interlocutor.

-

-"Locked in my room, or have my hands slapped. Once I took a snake in

-the house. He was cold, but he got away from me, an' the matron found

-him in her bed. She whipped me that time."

-

-"Was that what made you run away?"

-

-"No, I run away on account o' this dog. You call up the cold spell we

-had a week ago?"

-

-"You bet--I was out in it."

-

-"Well, there come the coldest night. The matron give us extry

-blankets, but I couldn't sleep. I woke up in the middle o' the night,

-an' I thought o' that dog out in the stable. 'He'll freeze,' I said,

-an' when I said it, it seemed as if icicles were stickin' into me. I

-was mos' crazy. I got up an' looked out the window. There was a moon,

-an awful bitin', ugly kind of a moon grinnin' at me. I put on some

-clo'es, I slipped down-stairs, an' it seemed as if everythin' was

-yellin' in the cold. Every board an' every wall I touched went off

-like a gun, but no one woke, an' I got out in the stable.

-

-"The horse was warm an' so was the cow, but this little dog was mos'

-froze. I tried to warm him, but my fingers got like sticks. Then I

-did a scand'lous thing. I says, 'I'll take him in bed with me an'

-warm him for a spell, an' no one'll know;' so I lugged him in the

-house, an' he cuddled down on my arm just so cunnin'. Then I tried to

-stay awake, so I could carry him out early in the mornin', but didn't

-I fall to sleep, an' the first thing I knowed there was the matron

-a-spearin' me with her eyes, an she put out her hand to ketch the

-dog, an' he up an' bit her, an' then there was trouble."

-

-"What kind of trouble?" asked the young man.

-

-"I had bread an' water for two days, an' the dog was shut up in the

-stable, an' then I was brought up before the lady-board."

-

-"The lady-board," murmured Mrs. Minley; "what does the child mean?"

-

-"The board of lady managers," explained Dillson.

-

-"Tell us about it," he said to 'Tilda Jane.

-

-The latter was keeping an eye on the clock. She knew that the time

-must soon come for her to part from her new-found friend. It was not

-in her nature to be very demonstrative, yet she could not altogether

-hide a certain feverishness and anxiety. One thing, however, she

-could do, and she subdued her emotion in order to do it. It amused

-the young man to hear her talk. She would suppress her natural

-inclination to silence and gravity, and try to entertain him. And the

-more she talked, possibly the longer he would stay.

-

-Therefore she went on: "There they set round the table as big an'

-handsome as so many pies. One lady was at the top, an' she rapped on

-the table with a little hammer, an' said, ''Tention, ladies!' Then

-she says, 'Here is the 'fortinate object of dissection. What part

-shall we tackle fust? Name your wishes, ladies.' Then she stopped an'

-another lady begun, 'Mam pressiding, stake the case.'"

-

-The young man took his pipe from his mouth, and Mrs. Minley

-ejaculated, "Mercy me!"

-

-"Madam president, I guess," he said, gravely. "Go on, sissy."

-

-'Tilda Jane went on, still with her eye on the clock, and still

-speaking feverishly. "The mam pressiding staked me out. Says she,

-'Here is a little girl--she come to us like a lily o' the field; no

-dress on, no bunnit, no nothin'. We've fed an' clothed the lily,

-an' guv her good advice, an' she's lifted up her heel agin us. She

-deifies us, she introjuces toads an' snakes into the sacred presings

-of our sinningcherry for orphans. She packs a dirty dog in bed. We'll

-never levelate her. She's lowering the key of our 'stution. She knows

-not the place of reptiles an' quadruples. Ladies, shall we keep

-this little disturving lellement in our 'stution? If thy hand 'fend

-against thee cut it off. If thy foot straggle, treat it likewise.'

-

-"Then she set down, an' another lady got up. Says she, 'I'm always

-for mercy--strained mercy dropping like juice from heaven. If this

-little girl is turned inside out, she'll be a bright an' shinin'

-light. I prepose that we make the 'speriment. The tastes is in her,

-but we can nip off the grati'cations. I remove that instead of

-disturving her, we disturve the animiles. Ladies, we has hard work to

-run this 'stution.'"

-

-"This 'stution?" said the young man.

-

-"Yes, 'stution," repeated 'Tilda Jane, "that's what they call the

-'sylum. Well, this lady went on an' says she, 'Let's send away the

-cats an' dogs an' all the children's pets--squirrels an' pigeons

-an' rabbits, 'cause this little girl's disruptin' every child on

-the place. Once when cats come an' other animiles, they was stoned

-away. Now they're took in. I come across one little feller jus' now,

-an' instead o' learnin' his lesson he was playin' with a beetle.

-Ticklin' it with a straw, ladies. Now ain't that awful? We've got

-'sponsibilities toward these foun'lings. I feels like a mother. If

-we sends 'em foolish out in the world we'll be blamed. Our faithful

-matron says it's unpossible to ketch rats an' mice. This little girl

-gets at the traps, an' let's 'em go. She's a born rule-smasher!'

-

-"Then she closed her mouth an' set down, an' the big lady sittin'

-at the head o' the table pounded her hammer 'cause they all fell to

-jabberin'. Says she, 'Will some lady make a commotion?' Then one lady

-got up, an' she says, 'I remove that all animiles be decharged from

-this 'stution.'

-

-"'What about the chickings?' called out another lady. 'You must

-declude them. This will go on record.' The other lady said, ''Scuse

-me, I forgot the chickings. I'll mend my dissolution. I remove that

-all quadruples be decharged from this 'stution.'

-

-"That suited some, an' didn't suit t'others, an' there was a kind of

-chally-vally. One lady said she's mend the mendment, an' then the mam

-pressiding got kind o' mixy-maxy, an' said they'd better start all

-over agin, 'cause she'd lose her way 'mong so many mendments. After

-a long time, they got their ideas sot, an' they said that I was to

-stay, but all the animiles was to go. I didn't snuffle nor nothin',

-but I just said, 'Are you plannin' to kill that there dog?'

-

-"The mam pressiding gave a squeal an' said, 'No, that would be cruel.

-They would give the dog to some little feller who would be good to

-him.' I said, 'Little fellers tie tin cans to dogs' tails'--an' then

-they got mad with me an' said I was trespicious. Then I said, 'All

-right,' 'cause what could I do agin a whole lot o' lady-boards? But

-I made up my mind I'd have to work my way out of it, 'cause it would

-kill that little dog to be took from me. So I run away."

-

-Her story was done, and, closing her lips in dogged resolution, she

-stared inquiringly at the young man. He was not going to withdraw his

-protection from her, she saw that, but what would he direct her to do

-next?

-

-He was thoughtfully tapping his pipe against the fireplace, now he

-was putting it in his pocket, and now he was going to speak.

-

-[Illustration: "'TILDA JANE SAT LIKE A STATUE."]

-

-"Little girl, you've started for Australia, and as I don't believe

-in checking a raring, tearing ambition, I won't try to block you,

-exactly, but only to sidetrack. You can't go to Australia bang

-off. It's too far. And you haven't got the funds. Now I'll make a

-proposition. I've got an old father 'most as cranky as that there

-dog. I guess if you're so long-suffering with the animal, you'll be

-long-suffering with the human. He needs some tidy body to keep his

-house trigged up, and to wait on him, 'cause he's lame. He has an

-everlasting wrastle to keep a housekeeper on account of this same

-flash-light temper. But I guess from what I've seen of you, that you

-could fix him. And you'd have a home which you seem to hanker for.

-And you could save your money and start for Australia when you've put

-enough flesh on those bones to keep you from blowing away into the

-sea and getting lost. Starting would be convenient, for my father

-lives near the big Canadian railway that is a round the world route.

-You can step aboard the cars, go to the Pacific, board a steamer, and

-go on your way to Australia. What do you say--is it a bargain?"

-

-'Tilda Jane sat like a statue. The firelight danced behind her

-little, grave profile that remained unchanged, save for the big tears

-rolling slowly and deliberately down each thin cheek and dropping on

-the faded dress. Only the tears and the frantically clasped hands

-betrayed emotion.

-

-"I guess it's a go," said the young man, kindly. "Here's my father's

-address," and getting up he handed a card to her. "Hobart Dillson,

-Ciscasset, Maine. I've got to make tracks now, but Mrs. Minley here

-will put you on a train that comes by here in the morning, and all

-you've got to do is to sit still in it, till you hear the conductor

-holler Ciscasset. Then you hustle out and ask some one where Hobart

-Dillson lives. When you get there, don't shake if he throws a crutch

-at you. Just tell him you've come to stay, and I'm going to pay extra

-for it. That'll cool him, 'cause he's had to pay a housekeeper out

-of his own allowance up to this. The old boy and I don't rub along

-together very sweet, but he knows the size of a dollar every time."

-

-'Tilda Jane choked back the suffocating lump in her throat, and

-gravely rose to her feet. "Sir, I'm as much obleeged to you as--"

-

-Here she broke down.

-

-"As you ought to be," he finished. "Don't mention it. I'm happy

-to make your acquaintance. So long," and he politely held out two

-fingers.

-

-A vague terror seized the little girl. He had arranged everything for

-her, and yet she had never since her escape felt so paralysed with

-fear. Her beseeching eyes sought Mrs. Minley's face. The landlady was

-smiling graciously at her, but the little girl's heart sunk. Quite

-unknown to herself, she was a sharp reader of character. She was

-losing her best friend in the fat young man.

-

-"Take me with you," she gasped, suddenly clinging to his hand.

-

-"Can't do that, sissy. I'm going back into the settlements--bad

-roads, scattered houses. You'd freeze stiff. Better stay here with

-Mrs. Minley. I'll run up to Ciscasset by and by to see you."

-

-'Tilda Jane drew back in sudden, steely composure. She was ashamed of

-herself. "I'm crazy," she said, shortly; "you've done enough for me

-now. I'll take care of your father if he gets mad fifty times a day."

-

-Already she felt a sense of responsibility. She drew herself up with

-dignity, and in sad, composed silence watched the young man leave the

-room and the house. When the last faint sound of his sleigh-bells

-had died away, she gave up her listening attitude, and turned

-patiently to Mrs. Minley, who was saying with a yawn, "I guess you'd

-better go to bed."

-

-'Tilda Jane walked obediently toward her room, and Mrs. Minley,

-seating herself on a chair in cold curiosity, watched her undress.

-

-When the little girl knelt down to say her prayers, a feeble smile

-illuminated the woman's face. However, she was still listless and

-uninterested, until the latter portion of the petition.

-

-"O Lord," 'Tilda Jane was praying earnestly, almost passionately,

-"forgive me for all this sin an' 'niquity. I just had to run away. I

-couldn't give up that little dog that thou didst send me. I'll live

-square as soon as I get takin' care o' that ole man. Bless the matron

-an' make her forgive me, an' bless all the lady-boards--Mis' Grannis

-'specially, 'cause she'll be maddest with me. Keep me from tellin'

-any more lies. Amen."

-

-When 'Tilda Jane rose from her knees, Mrs. Minley's breath was coming

-and going quickly, and there was a curious light in her eyes. "Mrs.

-Grannis, did you say?" she asked, shortly. "Mrs. Grannis, over Beaver

-Dam way?"

-

-"Yes, ma'am."

-

-"What has she got to do with the asylum?"

-

-"She's the fust lady-board. She sits behind the table an' pounds the

-hammer."

-

-"And she'll be maddest with you?"

-

-"Yes, ma'am. She says children has too much liberties."

-

-"Hurry into bed," said Mrs. Minley, briefly, and taking up the lamp,

-and without a word of farewell, she disappeared from the room.

-

-'Tilda Jane cowered down between the cold sheets. Then she stretched

-out a hand to touch the precious bundle on the chair by her bed. And

-then she tried to go to sleep, but sleep would not come.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER IV.

-

-UNSTABLE AS WATER.

-

-

-A vague uneasiness possessed her. Ah, how happy would she be, could

-she know that the young creamery man was sleeping under the same

-roof! But he was speeding somewhere far away over the snowy roads.

-However, she should see him again. He had said so, and, with the

-hopefulness of youth, she sighed a happy sigh and, closing her eyes

-tightly, listened to the various sounds about the quiet house.

-

-There must have been another arrival, for she heard doors opening and

-shutting, and also the jingle of sleigh-bells. They were strangely

-confused in her mind with the ringing of the rising-bell at the

-orphan asylum, and she was just sinking into a dreamy condition, a

-forerunner of sleep, when she heard a hard voice in her ear.

-

-"Get up an' dress, little girl."

-

-She raised herself quietly from the pillow. There stood over her the

-tall, gaunt woman whom she had heard Mrs. Minley address as Ruth Ann.

-To her perturbed mind, there rose a vision of a graven image from

-the Bible, as she stared at the woman's stony countenance. She was

-standing shading a candle with her hand, and her deep eyes were fixed

-in unmistakable compassion on the little girl.

-

-"Jump up," she repeated, "an' dress like sixty. You've got yourself

-into a peck o' trouble."

-

-'Tilda Jane had not a thought of questioning the wisdom of this

-command. Something about the hard-faced woman inspired her with

-confidence, and without a word she stepped out of bed, and began

-rapidly putting on her clothes.

-

-"I'll talk while you dress," said the woman, in a hard, intense

-voice, and putting down the candle, "but, Lord, how can I say it all?"

-

-There was a kind of desperation in her tone, although no trace of

-emotion appeared on her face. 'Tilda Jane felt a strange kinship

-with this reserved woman, and flashed her a sympathetic glance while

-buttoning one of her stout and ugly garments.

-

-Ruth Ann made a brief grimace. "Here I am," she said, with a sudden

-burst of speech, "a middle-aged woman gettin' old. You're a young one

-settin' out on life's journey. I'll never see you agin, prob'bly.

-Let me give you a word--be honest, an' if you can't be honest, be

-as honest as you can. You'll have no luck otherwise. You may think

-you're havin' luck in bein' sly, but it's a kind o' luck that turns

-to loss in the long run. There's that sister o' mine. She reminds me

-o' Reuben in the Bible--'unstable as water thou shalt not excel.'

-She's that deceitful that I should think she'd choke with it so she

-couldn't breathe."

-

-'Tilda Jane made no remark, but as she threw her dress over her head

-her two black eyes scintillated wonderingly in the woman's direction.

-

-"Unstable," said Ruth Ann, bitterly. "I'd 'a' loved her if she'd been

-honest, but it's always the same,--fair to the face, foul behind the

-back. I've slaved for her an' waited on her, an' heard her praised

-for work I've done, and seen young men oggle her, an' she oggle back,

-an' I've never had an offer an' never will, an' sometimes I think I

-hate her."

-

-'Tilda Jane paused for an instant in her rapid dressing. This

-sisterly repulsion was something unknown to her childish experience.

-

-"Then when she gets sick from stuffin' herself, I'm feared, an' think

-she's goin' to die, but she'll 'tend my funeral, an' cry an' look so

-handsome that some ole Jack will pop the question on the way home.

-Here, child, eat these while you dress," and she drew some doughnuts

-from her pocket.

-

-'Tilda Jane pushed them from her, with an involuntary movement of

-dislike.

-

-"You've turned agin me for turnin' agin my sister," said the woman,

-bitterly. "Wait till you're treated as I am. An' let me tell you what

-she's done to you. You made mention o' Mis' Grannis. Mis' Grannis

-has got a mortgage on this house. Mis' Grannis lends her money, Mis'

-Grannis is the god my sister bows down to. Do you think she'd let you

-stand between her and Mis' Grannis? No--the minute she heard you say

-Mis' Grannis would be pleased to git you back, that minute she made

-up her mind to fool you and Hank Dillson that she can't abide 'cause

-he ain't never asked her to stop bein' a widow. So she made me help

-her hitch up, an' she's off on the wings of the wind to tell her

-sweet Mis' Grannis to come an' git you; an' just to fool her who is

-so cute at foolin' other folks, I made up my mind to git you off. Now

-do you take it in?"

-

-'Tilda Jane did take in this alarming bit of news, and for one

-instant stood aghast. Then she resolutely fell to lacing on her shoes.

-

-"You're gritty," said the woman, admiringly. "Now I'll tell you what

-I've laid out. I'm goin' to guide you through the woods to the Moss

-Glen Station. When we git mos' there, I'll skedaddle home an' to bed,

-'cause I don't want sister to find me out. Here's an extry pair o'

-stockin's an' shoes to put on before you board the train. You'll git

-yours full o' snow water. If all goes as I calc'late, you'll have

-time to change 'em in the station. You don't want to git sick so

-you can't stand up to that ole man. Here's a little tippet for your

-shoulders. Dillson told sister to give you a shawl, but she'll not do

-it. An' he paid her, too. Now come, let's start."

-

-'Tilda Jane brushed her hand over her eyes, resolutely picked up her

-dog, and followed her guide out to the kitchen.

-

-Ruth Ann caught up a shawl, threw it over her head, and opened the

-door. "My--it's black! I guess we'll have to take a lantern."

-

-She turned back, fumbled in a corner of the kitchen, struck a light,

-then rejoined 'Tilda Jane.

-

-For some minutes they plodded on in silence. Then Ruth Ann said,

-anxiously, "I don' know what I'll do if it don't snow. She'll track

-us sure--me, big feet, an' you, smaller ones. Glory, it's snowin'

-now!"

-

-A sudden wind had sprung up in the black, quiet night, and whirled a

-few flakes of snow in their faces. Then the snow began to fall from

-above, gently and quietly, flake by flake.

-

-'Tilda Jane struggled along the heavy road in the wake of the tall

-woman ahead. The small dog seemed to have grown larger, and lay a

-heavy burden in her arms. Yet she uttered no word of complaint. Her

-mind was in a whirl, and she gave no thought to physical fatigue.

-What was she doing? Had she--a little girl--any right to give so

-much trouble to grown people? Her actions were exactly in opposition

-to every precept that had been instilled into her mind. Children

-should be seen and not heard. Children should wait on grown people.

-Children must not lie under any circumstances. They must be obedient,

-truthful, honest, and uncomplaining. Perhaps she ought to go back

-to the orphan asylum. She could stand punishment herself--but her

-dog? They would make her give him up. Some boy would get him. Boys

-were all mischievous at times. Could she endure the thought of that

-little feeble frame subjected to torture? She could not, and steeling

-her heart against the asylum, the matron, and the lady managers, she

-walked on more quickly than ever.

-

-She would never forget that ghostly walk through the woods. The

-narrow way wound always between high snow-laden sentinels of trees.

-The sickly, slanting gleam of the lantern lighted only a few steps

-ahead. Mystery and solemnity were all about her; the pure and

-exquisite snow, on which they were putting their black-shod feet,

-was to her the trailing robe of an angel who had gone before. The

-large, flat snowflakes, showered on her erring head, were missives

-from the skies, "Go back, little girl, go back."

-

-"Lord, I can't go back," she repeated, stubbornly, "but I'll repent

-some more, by and by. Please take away the sick feeling in the middle

-of my stomach. I can't enjoy anythin'."

-

-The sick feeling continued, and she gave Ruth Ann only a feeble

-"yes," when she suddenly turned and threw the light of the lantern on

-her with a brisk, "Don't you want to know what lie I'm goin' to tell

-'bout your leavin'?

-

-"I'm not goin' to tell any lie," Ruth Ann continued, triumphantly.

-"If you've got grace enough to hold your tongue, other folks'll

-do all your lyin' for you. Sister'll come home, Mis' Grannis with

-her, prob'bly. They'll go ravagin' in the spare room. They'll come

-ravagin' out--'Ruth Ann, that young one's run off!' An' I'll be busy

-with my pots an' pans, an' all I'll have to say is: 'Do tell!' or,

-'Why, how you talk!' An' sister'll rave an' tear, an' run round like

-a crazy thing, an' look at Mis' Grannis out o' the corner of her eye."

-

-Ruth Ann's shoulders shook with enjoyable laughter, but if she had

-turned suddenly she would have seen a look of unmistakable disgust

-flitting over the face behind her.

-

-She did turn suddenly a few minutes later, but the look was gone.

-"Here, give me that dog," she said, peremptorily.

-

-The little girl protested, but the woman took him, and again they

-plodded on in silence.

-

-"Here we be," she said, after they had been walking for an hour

-longer.

-

-'Tilda Jane raised her head. The narrow road had abruptly expanded

-into a circular clearing, and in the midst of the clearing stood a

-small wooden building.

-

-Ruth Ann walked up to it, handed 'Tilda Jane the dog and the lantern,

-and put her hands on one of the diminutive windows.

-

-It opened easily, and she ejaculated with satisfaction, "Just what I

-thought. Come, crawl in here; the station agent's been here all the

-evenin', an' the fire ain't quite out. You'll be as snug as a bug in

-a rug. He'll be back at daylight agin, an' soon after your train'll

-come along for Ciscasset. Don't you breathe a word to him 'bout me.

-Say Mis' Minley brought you here, if he asks anythin'. Here's enough

-money to buy your ticket. I ain't got much. Sister keeps me short,

-an' she's took away with her what Hank Dillson give her for you. Mind

-an' keep that card with his father's name pinned inside your dress.

-Here's a lunch," and she produced a parcel from her pocket. "Don't

-fret, sister can't git home much before breakfast, an' by that time

-you'll be in Ciscasset, an' I guess they'll not follow you there. She

-don't know the name o' the place, anyway. She didn't take no 'count

-when Hank mentioned it, an' when she asked me, you'd better believe I

-forgot it, too."

-

-'Tilda Jane scrambled through the window, and, upon arriving inside,

-turned around and gravely shook hands with her guide. "I guess I

-sha'n't forgit this."

-

-"Don't you take no pains to remember it before sister," said the

-woman, with a chuckle, "if you don't want me to live an' die in hot

-water. Good luck to you. Shut the winder, an' put a stick on the

-fire," and she strode off through the snow.

-

-'Tilda Jane shuddered. She was not a nervous child, yet the knowledge

-that she was alone in a forest pressed and bore down upon her.

-However, she was out of the increasing storm. She had got her guilty

-feet off that angel's trailing robe, and the little letters from

-heaven were not dashing in her face, nor was there any danger now

-that one of the groaning trees bending to lament over her would fall

-and crush her shrinking form.

-

-They were creaking all around the circular opening--those spying

-trees--staring through the curtainless windows at her, and instead

-of throwing on more wood, and making a blaze that would enable her

-to be plainly seen, she opened the stove door, and, cowering over

-the embers, changed her wet foot-gear, and tried to dry her clinging

-skirts.

-

-She was entirely miserable until the frightened dog crept into her

-arms. Here was something weaker and more in need of protection than

-herself, and, hugging him closely to her, she prepared to spend the

-rest of the night in a patient waiting for the morning.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER V.

-

-ANOTHER ADVENTURE.

-

-

-The quietest and most undemonstrative passenger on the night train

-from Boston was the shabby little girl in the corner, with the bundle

-beside her on the seat.

-

-The conductor, after one sharp glance, paid no attention to her, the

-brakemen paid no attention to her, the boy with the gum-drops and

-novels ignored her. She had the air of knowing where she was going,

-and also of being utterly uninteresting, and greatly to her relief

-she was left entirely to her own devices.

-

-In reality 'Tilda Jane was in a state of semi-paralysis. She scarcely

-dared to move, to breathe. All her life had been spent in the quiet

-precincts of the asylum. She had scarcely been allowed to go to the

-small village in its vicinity, and when she had been allowed to

-visit it she had seen nothing as wonderful as this, for there was

-no railway there. It took her breath away to be whirled along at so

-rapid a rate. She wondered how the people dared to walk about. She

-wondered how she had ever had courage enough to step on board the

-flaming, roaring monster that had come rushing out of the woods as

-if it would devour the little station, the agent, herself, and her

-dog. But they had not been devoured, and the agent had guided her

-staggering footsteps toward the monster. If he had not done so, she

-would in her bewilderment have been left a prey for the pitiless Mrs.

-Minley.

-

-For two hours she sat with swimming brain, then it occurred to her

-that she must in some way acquaint this wonderful and frightful

-means of locomotion, with her desire to alight at her destination.

-She closely watched the people entering and leaving the car, and

-discovered that immediately following the entrance of a man who

-bawled some unintelligible exclamation, something took place that

-reminded her of a game played at the asylum. Certain people went out,

-and certain others came in and took their places. She must catch this

-noisy man and speak to him.

-

-She patiently waited for him to pass through the car. Once he

-swept by her, and then some time elapsed before she saw him again.

-The train had been waiting for fifteen minutes at a station. A

-number of men had gone out, and presently come back brushing their

-moustaches and with toothpicks between their teeth. This must be an

-eating-place; and Ruth Ann said that 'Tilda Jane would arrive in

-Ciscasset before breakfast-time.

-

-The little girl desperately addressed a passenger passing her. "I

-say, sir, when do we come to Ciscasset?"

-

-"Ciscasset!" repeated the man. "We passed it an hour ago."

-

-"Passed it!" she echoed, stupidly.

-

-The man turned to a news agent sauntering by. "Here, you, send the

-conductor here."

-

-The conductor did not appear, but a brakeman came. "Got carried

-beyond your station, little girl. You're in Canada now, but it's all

-right; we'll ship you off at the next stop. Number eight will take

-you back. All ri-i-i-ght."

-

-'Tilda Jane fell back on her seat with a strange sinking of heart.

-She remembered now that Hank Dillson had said the conductor would

-"holler" Ciscasset; but, if he had done so, she had not distinguished

-the words in the strange sounds issuing from his mouth.

-

-It seemed as if only a few bewildered minutes had passed when someone

-ejaculated, "McAdam Junction!" and the friendly brakeman was beside

-her. She felt herself lifted from her seat, bundle and all, and swung

-to a platform, where she stood among a group of people. She did not

-know where to go or what to do, and remained as one in a dream until

-some one touched her shoulder.

-

-"You the little girl carried beyond your station?"

-

-"Yes, sir," she gasped, and looked up into the pleasant face of a

-young man bending over her.

-

-"All right; the conductor told me about you. Come in here," and he

-led the way to a waiting-room. "Had your breakfast?"

-

-"No, sir, but I've got it here," and she pulled Ruth Ann's parcel out

-of her pocket.

-

-The young man smiled and motioned it back. "Come have some hot

-coffee," and he passed through a doorway into an eating-room, where

-'Tilda Jane presently found herself seated before a steaming cup of

-coffee, and a plate of beefsteak and potatoes.

-

-"I ain't got any money to pay for this," she said, bluntly, to the

-young woman who set the tempting viands before her.

-

-"That's all right," said the girl, smiling.

-

-'Tilda Jane picked up her knife and fork. "All right!" seemed to

-be a railway expression. It was immensely comforting to her, and

-she soberly partook of the hot breakfast, drank all her coffee, and

-emptied the scraps from her plate into her handkerchief. Then she

-approached the counter where the young woman stood.

-

-"Thank you kindly, ma'am. I've made a good meal."

-

-Then she went outdoors into the crisp morning air. The snow-storm was

-over, and the day was delightful--blue above, white below. It was

-like a fairy world. She walked to the end of the platform, unrolled

-her shawl, and, freeing her mummy-like dog, set his breakfast before

-him. He ate with avidity, then, showing a disinclination to return

-to his bandages, hopped on his three legs along the platform beside

-her, his crooked tail meanwhile describing successive circles in

-the air. Some of the loiterers about the station gathered around

-him, and seeing that his bodily infirmities were a subject of mirth

-rather than of compassion, 'Tilda Jane, in spite of warm protests on

-his part, once more swathed him in his shawl, and carried him with

-dignity into the waiting-room. There she sat until the agreeable

-young man ran in and said her train was coming.

-

-Something warned her that she ought to implore him to tell some one

-to have a care of her--to see that she did not again get carried

-beyond her destination, but a kind of paralysis seized upon her

-tongue, and she could only open her mouth and gape stupidly at him.

-

-"You'll be all right now," he said, with a nod. "Jump when you hear

-Ciscasset."

-

-"Ciscasset, Ciscasset!" she repeated the name in a kind of

-desperation, then, as the train started with a jerk and she tumbled

-into a seat, she said aloud, and without addressing any one in

-particular, "I wish to jump off at Ciscasset."

-

-"Bless the child!" ejaculated an old lady in the seat before her,

-"I guess this is her first journey," and turning around, she stared

-mildly.

-

-"Oh, ma'am," said 'Tilda Jane, "can't you help me get off at

-Ciscasset? The train goes so fast, an' I'm so little."

-

-"Bless the child!" said the old lady again, "of course I will.

-Conductor, this little girl wishes to get off at Ciscasset."

-

-"All right," said that official, hurrying by.

-

-"This little girl wishes to get off at Ciscasset," exclaimed the old

-lady once more, this time to a brakeman.

-

-He nodded and passed on, and presently the conductor returned and

-said, smartly, "Tickets!"

-

-"I ain't got any," replied 'Tilda Jane.

-

-"Then you must buy one," said the old lady; "have you got any money,

-my dear?"

-

-'Tilda Jane never thought of asking the conductor if he had not been

-informed of her mishap. She never dreamed that the pleasant-faced

-young man had forgotten to ask that she be carried back to the

-station for which she had bought her ticket. Therefore she drew her

-handkerchief from her pocket, untied a knot in its corner, and slowly

-produced fifty cents.

-

-"Is that all the money you've got?" asked the conductor, briskly.

-

-"Yes, sir."

-

-"Where do you come from?"

-

-'Tilda Jane preserved a discreet silence.

-

-"Put it up," he said, waving his hand toward the handkerchief and

-immediately going away.

-

-"Oh, what a nice kind man!" said the old lady. "He's going to let you

-ride free."

-

-'Tilda Jane breathed more freely, and returned her handkerchief to

-its place.

-

-The conductor, meanwhile, had gone to a Pullman car in the rear,

-where a man in plain clothes was lying back on a seat, apparently

-engaged in an aimless, leisurely scrutiny of the occupants of the car.

-

-"Jack," said the conductor, "there's a slip of a girl in the day

-car--poor clothes, shawl bundle, no money, won't tell where she comes

-from, making a great fuss about going to Ciscasset, looks like an

-emigrant."

-

-"All right," said Jack, laconically, then he gave an imperceptible

-nod toward a trio of well-dressed young men engaged in card playing.

-"Want to see me nab that New York jeweller's clerk?"

-

-"Yep," said the conductor.

-

-"Got any telegrams in your pocket?"

-

-"Two."

-

-"Lend me one, and sit down here a minute."

-

-Jack got up, the conductor took the vacated seat, and waited one,

-two, three minutes, and then Jack reappeared from between the

-curtains of the drawing-room at the rear of the car.

-

-"A telegram for H.J. Bolingbroke," he called, in a loud voice; "any

-passenger of that name in this car?"

-

-The youngest of the three men playing cards involuntarily raised his

-head, started from his seat, half extended his hand, then drew back.

-

-Jack tossed the telegram to the conductor, and nodded to the young

-man. "Thought you were travelling under an assumed name. H. J.

-Bolingbroke _alias_ Blixton. Have you got those diamonds in your

-pocket?"

-

-The young man flushed painfully, while his fellow players threw down

-their cards and surveyed him curiously.

-

-"Trouble you to follow me to another car," said Jack, and he led the

-way for the detected smuggler.

-

-'Tilda Jane saw the two men pass, and innocently stared at them,

-little dreaming that her turn was to come next.

-

-After awhile Jack reappeared and sat down in a seat behind 'Tilda

-Jane. After noticing the ineffectual attempts made by the old lady

-to draw the little girl into conversation, he leaned over and poured

-some candy into her lap from a bag he held in his hand.

-

-"Have some, sissy?"

-

-She gratefully flashed him a glance over her shoulder. "Thank you,

-sir."

-

-"Going far?" he asked, agreeably.

-

-"To Ciscasset," she said, feverishly. "Will you tell me when we come

-to it?"

-

-"Certainly. Going to visit friends?"

-

-"No, sir."

-

-"Oh, going home?"

-

-"No, sir."

-

-"Your home isn't quite so near as Ciscasset?"

-

-"No, sir."

-

-"Did you bring that small dog across the ocean with you?" he asked,

-his keen eye noting a stirring inside the bundle.

-

-"No, sir."

-

-"Where did you pick him up?"

-

-"Some boys were goin' to drown him."

-

-"So you're a kind little girl."

-

-"I ain't as good as I ought to be," she said, warmly; "but I'm goin'

-to try to be better. Oh, sir, are we at Ciscasset yet?"

-

-"No, this is Vanceboro, the border station between Canada and the

-States. I guess you'd better come this way for Ciscasset, little

-girl."

-

-"Why, this train goes direct to Ciscasset," interposed the old lady.

-

-"Yes, ma'am, but this little girl is a stop-over. She'll probably go

-on the next train."

-

-The old lady grew suspicious. "You let that child alone, sir.

-Where's the conductor? Conductor, I say, come here. Can't some one

-get the conductor? Don't go with him one step, little girl."

-

-'Tilda Jane, grown very pale, gazed apprehensively at the man, and

-did not offer to leave her seat.

-

-He threw back his coat and displayed a badge. "Madam, I'm a

-government inspector."

-

-"A government inspector! What's that?" the old lady spluttered,

-eyeing him over her glasses.

-

-"Well, madam, there ain't much time for explanation, but I can tell

-you this much, namely, that we have to detain and examine all persons

-without means of livelihood who attempt to enter the United States

-from foreign countries."

-

-She still gazed at him suspiciously. "I never heard of such a thing.

-I guess this is a free country."

-

-"Yes, ma'am, and the government wants to keep it free. If you get a

-lot of pauper foreigners here, it'll not be free long."

-

-"This little girl is American, ain't you, sissy?"

-

-"I'm an orphan," said 'Tilda Jane, guardedly. Whatever happened, she

-was determined not to admit too much.

-

-At this moment the conductor appeared, and the old lady hailed him

-indignantly. "What does this mean, sir? This little girl offered to

-pay her passage. I saw her with my own eyes. Now you're going to put

-her off the train."

-

-"It's all right, ma'am," he said, soothingly, "she'll likely be

-allowed to go on to-morrow."

-

-"And you'll keep that innocent child here all day, and she too

-frightened to breathe?" cried the old lady. "I never heard of such

-doings. I'll write the President! I'll show you up in the papers!"

-

-"She'll be well taken care of, madam," said the conductor. "There's

-a good hotel here. All detained are lodged and fed at government

-expense. She'll be put in charge of a chambermaid."

-

-"You're a set of villains!" said the old lady, wrathfully.

-

-"Oh, law!" groaned the conductor, "I'm sick of these fusses. Pick up

-her traps, Jack."

-

-"Come, little girl," said Jack, kindly, and 'Tilda Jane, seeing that

-the inevitable had once more overtaken her, rose resignedly, but the

-too kind and officious old lady clung to her so wildly that the two

-men were forced to draw her away from her.

-

-'Tilda Jane, in a state of complete bewilderment totally unmixed with

-terror, for she had taken a liking to the kind face of her guide,

-trotted meekly after him into the shadow of a long V-shaped building.

-The platform was crowded with people. Two trains were standing at the

-station, and in a large dining-room on her right she saw thronged

-tables and hurrying waitresses.

-

-She was ushered into a room where there was a handsomely dressed

-woman with a flushed face and tearful eyes, a dejected looking boy

-and girl sitting very close to each other, a diminutive and poorly

-dressed German Jew, and a composed looking man sitting behind a small

-table.

-

-"I'll have to leave you now," said her guide. "Don't be scared, but

-speak up," and with a reassuring smile he disappeared.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER VI.

-

-DEAF AND DUMB.

-

-

-'Tilda Jane sat down on a bench in the corner and took the dog on her

-lap.

-

-The fashionably dressed woman was speaking and gesticulating

-earnestly in front of the man whose face was only a trifle less calm

-and stony than that of Ruth Ann.

-

-"I never heard of such a thing in my life--to take my sealskin coat

-from me in the dead of winter. Now if it was summer, it wouldn't

-be so bad. My nice coat that cost me four hundred and seventy-five

-dollars."

-

-The man listened stolidly.

-

-"And you tell me your government orders you to take ladies' jackets

-from them. It seems incredible!"

-

-'Tilda Jane curiously scanned the garment under discussion. It

-certainly was very handsome.

-

-"It is incredible, madam. The government does not wish to deprive

-ladies of their sealskin coats. It merely requires its custom

-officials, of whom I am one, to enforce the law which has been made

-to prevent the importation of sealskin coats free of duty."

-

-"And have you taken many jackets?" sneered the woman.

-

-The official gazed at her in frigid silence.

-

-"I'll go right back to Toronto, where I live," she said, indignantly.

-"I was going to buy my daughter's trousseau in New York, but I'll

-spend every cent at home. That's the way we will make New York suffer

-on account of your government being so hateful!" and she flounced

-from the room. The man behind the table cast a leisurely glance over

-the remaining occupants of the room. Then he addressed the dejected

-boy and girl.

-

-"Hello, you!--what's your name?"

-

-"Thaddeus and Mary Lee," said the boy, mournfully.

-

-"Brother and sister?"

-

-"Man and wife," responded the boy, lugubriously.

-

-The assistant inspector elevated his eyebrows.

-

-"What ages?"

-

-"Nineteen and seventeen," sighed the lad.

-

-"Where are you going?"

-

-"To Boston."

-

-"What for?"

-

-"To look for work."

-

-"Got any money?"

-

-"Two dollars and seventy cents."

-

-"That all?"

-

-"Yes, sir."

-

-"What place do you come from?"

-

-"Chickaminga, Quebec."

-

-"You'll take the 8.15 A. M. train back to-morrow," said the man,

-briefly. "Now, Deutscher," and he nodded to the German Jew.

-

-The boy and girl left the room, hand in hand, with melancholy

-clothing them like a garment, and 'Tilda Jane gazed after them with

-wide-open eyes. Her attention, however, was soon distracted, for

-the little Jew, the instant he was indicated, sprang from his seat,

-extended both hands, and nimbly skipping over the floor between his

-numerous bundles, overwhelmed the inspector with a flood of German.

-

-The inspector leaned back in his chair and at last put up a hand with

-a commanding, "Halt!"

-

-The old man paused open-mouthed, and the inspector went on in German:

-"You left your home, you crossed the sea, you wish to go to Portland

-to relatives--so far, so good, but where are your papers?"

-

-The old man broke into a second burst of eloquence.

-

-"Your certificate," reiterated the inspector, "your writing from the

-captain of the ship."

-

-The old man shook his head sadly. He had no papers.

-

-'Tilda Jane did not understand a word of what he was saying, but his

-gestures were expressive, and she anxiously watched his interlocutor.

-

-"Where did you land?" asked the inspector.

-

-"In Halifax, Nova Scotia."

-

-"From what ship?"

-

-"_Das Veilchen._"

-

-"Captain's name?"

-

-"Strassburger."

-

-"Your name?"

-

-"Franz Veier."

-

-"I'll telegraph him. That's all."

-

-"And can I not go to my friends now--at once? They are waiting, they

-are expecting. We have so much to say."

-

-"No," said the inspector, and as the German burst out into groans and

-lamentations, he waved him from the room.

-

-When the door closed, and 'Tilda Jane felt that the cold and

-scrutinising eyes of the inspector were fixed on her, she was

-stricken with sudden dumbness. How these people had talked! She could

-not in a month utter as much as they had said in a few minutes. The

-result of their loquacity had been a seeming paralysis of her organs

-of speech.

-

-"What's your name, little girl?" said the official, with slight

-geniality.

-

-Her lips parted, but no sound came from them.

-

-"_Sprechen Sie Deutsch?_" he asked, agreeably.

-

-She shook her head, not from any knowledge of his meaning, but to

-signify her disinclination for speech.

-

-"_Parlez-vous français_?" he went on, patiently.

-

-Her head again negatived this question, and he inquired in Spanish if

-she knew that tongue.

-

-The shaking of the head became mechanical, and as the inspector knew

-seventeen languages, he addressed her successively in each one of

-them.

-

-After she had shaken her head at them all, he surveyed her a few

-seconds in meditative silence. Then he began to talk on his fingers.

-She was probably deaf and dumb.

-

-'Tilda Jane joyfully uncurled her hands from the bundle on her lap.

-This was a safe medium of conversation, for talking on the fingers

-had been a favourite amusement of the orphans during silence hours;

-and she would not be tempted to say too much, and betray the fact

-that she was a runaway. Accordingly, she spelled out the information,

-"I am an orphan."

-

-"Where do you come from?" he asked her.

-

-"A long ways off," her finger tips informed him.

-

-"Name of place?"

-

-"I can't tell you," she responded.

-

-"Where are you going?" he inquired.

-

-"To--" she hesitated about the spelling of Ciscasset, but got

-something near enough to it for him to understand.

-

-"Any relatives there?" he spelled on his fingers.

-

-"No."

-

-"Going to visit?'

-

-"No."

-

-"Have you any money?" he next asked her, and she politely and

-speedily informed him that she had fifty cents.

-

-"You must tell me where you come from," came next from him in

-peremptory finger taps.

-

-"No, sir," she replied, with spirited movements.

-

-"Then you'll stay here till you do," he responded, and with a yawn he

-rose, turned his back to her, and looked out of the window.

-

-'Tilda Jane took up her dog, and slipped out of the room. She was

-not frightened or sorry for the deception she had just practised.

-It did not seem to her that it was deception. For the time being

-she was deaf and dumb, and, far from being alarmed by her helpless

-condition, she possessed the strong conviction that she would be

-well taken care of. She had also ceased to worry about the board of

-lady managers, and in her present comfortable, callous state of mind

-she reflected that she might stay here a year, and they would never

-think of looking for her in a railway station. She was lost to them,

-and she gaily hummed a tune as she strolled to and fro on the big

-wooden platform, watching the shunting engines, the busy custom-house

-officers, and the station yard employees, who were cleaning, rubbing,

-scouring, and preparing cars for further journeys.

-

-At twelve o'clock, just as she was beginning to stifle yawns, and

-gaze wistfully at the windows of the dining-room, a young girl in a

-white apron came and stood in the doorway, and, shading her eyes from

-the sun shining in such dazzling brightness on the snow, beckoned

-vigorously to 'Tilda Jane.

-

-The little girl needed no second invitation, and, with her dog

-limping behind her, trotted nimbly toward her new friend.

-

-"Poor little soul--she's deef and dumb," said the dining-room girl,

-compassionately, as she passed a group of men in the hall. "Ain't it

-a pity?"

-

-'Tilda Jane did not speak or smile, nor did her conscience, often

-so troublesomely sensitive, now give one reproving twinge. Since

-talking to the inspector she felt as if deaf and dumb. She had been

-officially proclaimed so, and in meek patience she seated herself

-at the table, calmly pointed to what she wished, and, being most

-tenderly and assiduously waited upon by the pitying girl, ate a large

-and excellent dinner.

-

-At the orphan asylum there had never been fare such as this, and,

-after she had finished her chocolate pudding, and put in her pocket a

-juicy orange that she could not possibly eat, she bowed her head, and

-internally and thankfully repeated the orphanage grace after meat.

-

-"Just look at her!" exclaimed the admiring girl. "Ain't she cute?

-What kind of folks must she have to let such a poor little innocent

-travel alone? I don't believe she's obstinate. That assistant

-inspector is as hateful as he can be. Come, sissy, and I'll show you

-to your room," and she approached 'Tilda Jane, and took her by the

-hand.

-

-The latter pointed to her dog, and not until she had seen him satisfy

-the demands of his appetite, would she consent to follow her guide

-to a neat little apartment in the top of the wooden hotel.

-

-Upon arriving there, she thanked the girl by a smile, closed the

-door, and, throwing herself on her bed, was soon buried in sweet and

-wholesome slumber.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER VII.

-

-CLEARING UP A MISTAKE.

-

-

-That evening, when some of the custom-house officials and some of

-the guests of the hotel were sitting tipped back in chairs in the

-smoking-room, the assistant inspector said to the inspector, who had

-just come in, "I couldn't make anything of your deaf and dumb kid,

-Jack."

-

-"What deaf and dumb kid?" asked Jack, seating himself, and drawing

-out his cigar case.

-

-"That young one with the bundle."

-

-"She ain't deaf and dumb. Her tongue's hung as limber as yours."

-

-"Well, I swan!" said the assistant inspector, blankly, and, as he

-spoke, he brought his chair down on its four legs, and gazed about

-the room with an expression of such utter helplessness that the other

-men broke into a roar of laughter.

-

-"Don't cry, Blakeman," said Jack, soothingly. "It's only once in a

-coon's age you're fooled."

-

-"Do you suppose the slyboots has gone to bed?" asked Blakeman, again

-tipping back his chair, and returning to his professional manner.

-"Uncle Sam hasn't got any spare cash to waste on such like. Just open

-the door, Rufus, and see if you see any of the girls about."

-

-A dining-room girl good-naturedly consented to go in search of 'Tilda

-Jane, and upon entering the room found her on her knees thoughtfully

-looking down at the railway tracks running close to the hotel.

-

-Stepping forward and gently touching her shoulder, the girl pointed

-down-stairs.

-

-'Tilda Jane nodded, smiled, and, taking her hand, went out into the

-hall and down the staircases with her. 'Tilda Jane stared at the ring

-of men sitting in the smoking-room. When she caught sight of her

-friend of the morning, she smiled and bobbed her head at him, then,

-letting her dog slip from her arm to the floor, she stood in silence,

-waiting to be questioned.

-

-She had no doubt that this was some special tribunal called together

-to deliberate upon her case. She was not afraid of these men, they

-had kindly faces.

-

-"What made you pretend you were deaf and dumb?" asked the inspector,

-at last.

-

-She opened her mouth once or twice, tried to speak, failed, and

-at last articulated with difficulty, and with an air of genuine

-surprise, "Why--ain't I deef an' dumb? I ain't spoke ever since he

-made me think so till now," and she nodded toward the assistant

-inspector.

-

-"I made you think so!" ejaculated Blakeman, irritably.

-

-"Yes, sir," she said, dreamily, and lingering over her syllables as

-if she found a new pleasure in the exercise of speech. "You had so

-much to say, an' the other people had so much to say, that the room

-seemed chock full o' words. They was flyin' round ever so thick, but

-I couldn't ketch one o' them."

-

-"Well, now, you've got to quit lying and tell us where you come

-from," said the assistant inspector, roughly. "You've got to be sent

-home to-morrow."

-

-"Sent home?" she repeated wonderingly.

-

-"Yes--to Canada. Now tell us the name of the place you belong to, or

-we'll ship you to some poorhouse."

-

-"Do I come from Canada?" she asked, with a mystified air.

-

-Jack jogged his assistant's elbow. "Seemed to me there was the smell

-of a ship about her."

-

-"Not so," responded Blakeman who prided himself on distinguishing

-nationalities. "She hasn't any European accent. She's from right over

-the border here somewhere."

-

-"Do you know my mother?" 'Tilda Jane was eagerly asking the assistant

-inspector.

-

-"Yes--know her well. If you don't speak up I'll telegraph her."

-

-"Oh, I'll never speak then," said 'Tilda Jane, taking a step forward

-and clasping her hands painfully. "Oh, sir, do telegraph to my

-mother. I've cried an' cried at nights 'bout her. Other girls has

-mothers that loves 'em an' strokes their hair, an' nobody ever done

-that to me. They just thinks I'm ugly. Oh, sir, oh, sir, won't you

-telegraph my mother?"

-

-Blakeman had gone too far. The sentiment of the meeting was against

-him, and a low murmur warned him to retract what he had said.

-

-"I don't mean your mother," he said, sulkily. "I mean your guardians."

-

-"The lady-boards?" asked 'Tilda Jane, eagerly.

-

-He did not know what "lady-boards" meant, but his silence seemed to

-give assent to her question, and losing the bright flush that had

-come to her face, she relapsed into painful and profound silence.

-

-He would never know how he had hurt her. Oh! what hopes he had

-raised, and in an instant dashed to the ground, and checking the

-convulsion in her throat, she stealthily wiped away the two tears of

-distress coursing down her thin cheeks.

-

-"Don't cry," said Jack, kindly. "I expect you're tired from your trip

-in the train yesterday. You had a pretty long one, hadn't you?"

-

-"Yes, Mr. Jack," she said, humbly. "It seemed kind o' long, but I'm

-not used to bein' drug along so mighty quick."

-

-"I didn't notice her till we passed McAdam Junction," whispered Jack

-to his assistant. "She's come down from some place in New Brunswick.

-Telegraph McAdam."

-

-"They'll not know," growled Blakeman. "Robinson on yesterday's

-Montreal express is the man. He'll be back to-night. He'll know where

-she got on. If he'd reported, 'twould have saved this."

-

-"I guess he didn't think we'd struck such an obstacle," remarked

-Jack, with a chuckle. Then he said aloud, "Don't you suppose they'll

-be worrying about you, sissy?"

-

-"No, sir," she said, meekly, "they'll be more mad than worried."

-

-"You haven't lost that paper with the address, have you?" said Jack,

-cunningly.

-

-"No, sir," and she put her hand to her breast.

-

-He got up and walked toward her. "Let me see if I can read it."

-

-"There's no 'casion for that," she said, with dignity.

-

-"You'll have to let me see it," he said, firmly, so firmly that it

-being no part of her plan to "dare the undareable," she quietly

-handed Hank's card to him.

-

-"Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset, Maine," he read, then he gave it back to

-her. "Thank you, sissy. I guess you can go to bed now."

-

-"In a minute," said 'Tilda Jane, submissively, while she made a queer

-bob of a curtsey to all present. "Gen'l'men all--before I go I must

-say somethin'. Up-stairs jus' now I was ponderin' on my wickedness. I

-guess you think I don't know that all liars has their portion in the

-lake o' fire an' brimstone. I knows it an' feels it, but gen'l'men I

-ain't told no more lies nor I could help. That 'bout bein' deef an'

-dumb I can't call a lie, 'cause I felt it, an' I'm s'prised now to

-hear myself talk. But I have told lies, an' I know it. To-day I had

-a boss dinner. I went to sleep an' on my bed I dreamed. Somethin'

-roared an' shook the house an' I woke in a sweat. Did I think the

-devil had come after me? Yes, sirs--gen'l'men, I've been awful bad,

-I don't s'pose any of you knows what such badness is. I'm afeared

-I've got to go on lyin' till I like lies better'n truth. That's what

-the--what ladies I has known said would happen to little girls as

-stepped aside from the paths of righteousness."

-

-The men were all staring at her, the assistant inspector most

-intently, for this flow of language from the supposedly deaf and dumb

-child surprised even him--a man used to surprises.

-

-"I'm goin' to repent some day," continued 'Tilda Jane, sadly, "just

-as soon as I get out o' this, an' enjoyin' fam'ly life. I'm goin' to

-repent of all 'cept one thing, an' I can't repent 'bout that 'cause

-I dunno if it's wrong. Do you like dogs?" and she abruptly addressed

-the assistant inspector.

-

-"No," he said, brusquely.

-

-"What do you like?" she went on, wistfully, "cats, birds,

-children--do you like girls, sir, nice little girls with blue eyes

-an' curly hair?"

-

-The assistant inspector was a remarkably fine blond specimen

-of a man, and, as he was popular among the young women of the

-neighbourhood, 'Tilda Jane's artless question produced a burst of

-laughter from his companions, and a furious flaming of colour in his

-own face.

-

-[Illustration: "'I'M GOIN' TO REPENT SOME DAY.'"]

-

-Her question had gone home, and she proceeded. "Suppose you had a

-nice little girl an' some one wanted to take her away, an' frighten

-her, an' tie jinglin' things to her an' make her run, an' you'd ketch

-her up an' run off to the woods, would that be awful wicked, do

-you s'pose, an' would you have to repent?"

-

-The assistant inspector preserved a discreet and resentful silence,

-but two or three of his companions murmured between their pipe-stems

-and their lips, "Not much he wouldn't."

-

-"Now that's what troubles me," 'Tilda Jane continued. "The rest

-is bad, but is that bad? I guess I'll have to ask some minister,

-an', gen'l'men all, I guess you'd better let me go on to Ciscasset.

-You've got a nice place here, an' plenty o' things to eat, an' I

-think you're very fair, but I feel like movin' on," and pausing, she

-anxiously scanned the row of faces about her.

-

-"Run away to bed now," said Jack. "We'll tell you to-morrow what

-you're to do," and as 'Tilda Jane picked up her pet and disappeared,

-he sauntered across the room, took up a telegraph form, and addressed

-a message to the creamery shark's father.

-

-  "Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset. Girl, age about twelve. Dark hair,

-  eyes--run away from place unknown. Going to your address. Held as

-  immigrant without means. Refuses to give name. Can you supply any

-  information? Answer paid for."

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER VIII.

-

-A THIRD RUNNING AWAY.

-

-

-"Look here, little girl," said Jack, stopping 'Tilda Jane as she was

-coming out of the dining-room the next morning, "I've had a telegram

-from your friend in Ciscasset."

-

-"An' what does he say?" she asked, breathlessly.

-

-"I'll read it," and he drew a paper from his pocket. "Never heard of

-girl. Don't want her. Hobart Dillson."

-

-'Tilda Jane looked crestfallen, but did not flinch in face of the new

-difficulty. "He's a cranky ole man. He'll be all right when I talk to

-him."

-

-"Well, you're a queer fish," muttered her friend, as by way of hiding

-her chagrin she went quickly up-stairs. "We can't do anything with

-you till Robinson gets back, and tells us where he picked you up."

-

-The assistant inspector met her in the hall above. "Have you made up

-your mind to talk yet?" he asked, austerely.

-

-'Tilda Jane shook her head.

-

-"I've been amusing myself by telegraphing along the line," he said,

-in the same tone of voice. "None of the stations know anything about

-you, and the agent at McAdam has started off in the woods for his

-holidays. The conductor that brought you is laid up from an accident

-to his train, so you've got to speak for yourself; and do you know

-what I've made up my mind to do?"

-

-"No, sir," she said, steadily.

-

-"By to-night if you won't tell me where you come from, I'm going to

-take that dog away from you."

-

-Her face turned a sickly yellow, but she did not quail. "You wouldn't

-shoot him, would you?"

-

-"No, I won't shoot him," he said, deliberately. "I guess I'd give him

-to some nice little girl who wouldn't tell lies."

-

-'Tilda Jane's head sank on her breast. "Gimme till to-morrow morning,

-sir. I'd like to think it over."

-

-"I'll see about it," he said, with a curious glance at her; then he

-went away.

-

-'Tilda Jane knew that he would give her till the morning. She would

-not be troubled by him all day. She would have time to think. The

-worst difficulty in her experience confronted her. She would lose

-her dog in any case. To speak was to be sent back to the asylum, to

-remain silent was to let her Gippie become the cherished darling of

-some other girl, and in mute agony she caressed the smooth brown

-head, and put her hand before the almost sightless eyes as if she

-would hide from them even a suspicion of coming danger.

-

-Mr. Jack had just stepped on one of the out-going trains. She could

-not appeal to him, and the table-girls, since they had found that she

-was a story-teller, slighted her in a most marked way.

-

-She wandered down-stairs and out-of-doors. All day she loitered

-about the station platform watching the trains come in,--deliberate

-freight-trains, with their loads of merchandise, all to be examined

-by the busy customs officials, and rushing express trains, with their

-hundreds of hungry passengers who swept in crowds into the spacious

-dining-room.

-

-She saw her companions in captivity borne away. The fashionable lady

-got on a train that was entering Canada, and the dismal boy and girl

-followed her. The little German Jew, who had been roaming about the

-hotel like a restless ghost, always with his hat on and a bundle

-in his hand as if he wished to impress all beholders with the fact

-that he was only tarrying for a short time, had, on the receipt of a

-telegram informing the inspectors that he had merely forgotten his

-papers, become a happy maniac. He ran to and fro, he collected his

-bundles, dropped them, to kiss the hand of a table-girl who gave him

-some cakes for his lunch, and had to be restrained by main force from

-boarding every train that pulled up at the station.

-

-Fortunate travellers and unfortunate orphan! She could not get on

-one of the trains and be borne away. She was watched; she felt it,

-for she had now a perfect comprehension of the system of espionage

-established over unsuspecting travellers. The rich and well-dressed

-ones were passed by unless they were wearing sealskin wraps, the

-poor and penniless must give an account of themselves. So there was

-no escape for her by train. She must take to the road.

-

-She had better go lie down and try to sleep, she reflected with a

-shudder, as she had now before her the prospect of another night in

-the woods. As soon as it got dark, she must try to slip away from the

-hotel.

-

-At six o'clock she had had her nap and was in her favourite spot on

-her knees by her open window. Night was approaching, and she felt

-neither sorry, nor frightened, nor apprehensive. The sun was going

-down, and she was so completely wrapped in deep and silent content

-that she could neither speak nor think. She did not know that she was

-an ardent lover of nature--that her whole soul was at the present

-moment so filled with the glory of the winter evening that she had no

-room for her own troubles.

-

-The clanging supper-bell disturbed her, and, with a sigh and a look

-of longing farewell at the sky, she closed the window and made her

-way to the dining-room.

-

-After supper she returned to her post, and, as she could not now see

-the glorious sky and the snowy fields, she let her attention fall

-upon the trains below that had begun to have a strange fascination

-for her. She had lost all fear of them by this time, and had even

-begun to notice that there were differences in them just as there

-were differences in people. Some were big and bulky, others were

-quick and dashing. Some had hoarse voices, some clear ones. The

-Canadian engines coming in shrieked in one tone, the American ones,

-passing them from the other direction, replied in another.

-

-Hour after hour went by, and with the time her sense of dreamy

-contentment faded away. It gave her but little dismay to look out

-into the starlit night and fancy herself alone in snowy solitudes,

-but it gave her considerable dismay to look down below, and find

-that the hotel was neither getting dark nor perfectly quiet, as she

-fancied all well-regulated houses did at night. She had forgotten

-that they could not sleep here, at least everybody could not.

-Trains were coming and going all the time, and with this constant

-supervision below, how could she evade detection?

-

-"Number seventeen is an hour late and getting later every minute,"

-she heard some one call after a time; "bad snow-drifts up north."

-

-"Guess I'll take a wink of sleep," a tired voice responded, "there'll

-be nothing but freights for a spell," and then followed comparative

-silence.

-

-Footsteps were only occasionally heard, fewer lights flashed in the

-distance, and it was only at much longer intervals that passing

-trains shook the house. There was a lull in the constant noises, and

-now was the time for action. She rose stealthily, and took her dog

-in her arms--a pathetic child figure no longer, but a wary, stealthy

-little elf endeavouring to escape from danger threatened by these

-larger and more powerful human beings.

-

-Her sleeping-room was a tiny chamber opening out of one occupied by

-two of the dining-room girls. She was not afraid of their waking.

-She had heard them say as they undressed that they had to get up at

-half-past four to iron table-cloths and napkins, and there was not

-an instant's interruption of their heavy, dreamless slumber as she

-stole noiselessly by them.

-

-Now for the staircase. She paused anxiously at the top, and looked

-down. There was no one in sight, and holding her breath, and

-tiptoeing cautiously, she stole down step by step.

-

-At last she was at the bottom of both flights of stairs. So far so

-good, and she laid her hand on the knob of the front door that was

-never locked. But stop, let her pause--there were sounds outside.

-

-Some one out there hesitated, halted, and remarked to some other

-person behind, "Will you come in and have a bite of something to eat?"

-

-'Tilda Jane scarcely dared to breathe, and, gazing down the hall

-behind her, shook in her substantial shoes. She could see the office

-at the end of the hall, and the sleepy clerk napping at his desk. If

-she retreated toward him, he might wake up and discover her, and if

-the men entered she could not possibly avoid being caught by them.

-

-In intense anxiety she awaited results. There were only a few seconds

-of uncertainty, then her heart gave a bound of thankfulness. The

-footsteps had passed on, and only waiting till they died away, she

-opened the door and glided through.

-

-Now she was on the brightly lighted platform at the mercy of any

-passer-by, or any wakeful person who might be at one of the hotel

-windows. She made one swift rush across it, one leap over the railway

-tracks, and with a stifled exclamation of thankfulness found herself

-on the village road.

-

-Like a dark, diminutive ghost she sped up the hill past the silent

-houses. Now she was comparatively safe, yet which way should she go?

-She was completely puzzled, yet she had a vague idea that there were

-great forests surrounding Vanceboro, for she had heard the men at the

-hotel talk of fishing and shooting.

-

-Trembling in every limb from excitement, and pressing her precious

-bundle closely to her, she took a road to the left. She must not

-go to the right, for across the river was Canada, and if she got

-into that foreign country again, she would have fresh difficulties

-in returning to her own native one. She would press on through the

-village, take to the woods, and trust to luck to find some house

-where she could ask the way to Ciscasset.

-

-There was a moon to-night, an old, pale moon, and it cast a tremulous

-light over the soft, white fields sloping down to the Sainte-Croix

-River, the sleeping village, and the brightly lighted station yard

-in the hollow. She turned around, took one farewell glance at the

-habitations of men, and plunged into the winding road leading into

-the heart of the forest.

-

-Hour after hour she plodded on. This reminded her of her walk with

-Ruth Ann two evenings before, only here there was more light, the

-snow was deeper, and the trees were not as high as those on the way

-to the Moss Glen station. She hoped with a shiver that she should

-meet no wild beasts. Hark! What was that crashing through the alder

-bushes? She stopped short, clasped her dog to her breast, and looked

-about for some means of defence. Nothing offered but a dry tree

-branch, and she was just bending over to seize it when there rushed

-by her, so quickly that she had no time to be afraid, an object that

-caused a faint smile of pleasure to come to her pale lips.

-

-This was a large deerhound running along with his nose to the snow,

-and he paid no more attention to her than if she had been one of the

-stumps by the side of the road.

-

-"Here, doggie, doggie!" she called, wistfully, but he did not return,

-and, startled by the sound of her voice in the intense stillness, she

-hastily resumed her way.

-

-How solemn the moon was, staring down at her with that section of a

-face on which she fancied she saw an ear, the corner of a mouth, and

-one terrible, glistening eye. "Little girl, where are you going? Are

-you doing right? Are you not a naughty little girl?"

-

-"I can't think about it now," she said, desperately. "When I git

-settled down I'll square things up. Anyway, I'm not bad for the

-fun of it. Law me, ain't this road long! Here, Gippie, I guess you

-might walk a few steps. Keep in my tracks an' I'll not let anythin'

-hurt you. If a bear comes, he'll eat me first. It'll do you good to

-stretch your legs a mite."

-

-Away back in the hotel Mr. Jack was just getting home. "We can let

-our deaf and dumb kid go in the morning," he said to his assistant,

-who got on the train as he left it. "The waitress at McAdam was just

-inquiring about her--says she's U. S. all right. Came from Moss Glen

-station, didn't know Ciscasset when she got to it, and was carried

-on. Agent forgot to speak to Robinson about her, and the waitress

-wanted to know if she got through all right."

-

-"U. S.," grumbled the assistant inspector, pausing with his foot on

-the steps of the baggage-car, "why didn't she say so?"

-

-"Was frightened--I guess she'd run away--a case of innocence abroad."

-

-"Well, we can't hold her if she isn't an immigrant," said Blakeman,

-with relief. "Let her go. They've got a poorhouse in Ciscasset, I

-suppose."

-

-"She'll go in no poorhouse," said Mr. Jack, with a chuckle. "She's

-too smart."

-

-If he could have seen at that moment the weary little figure toiling

-along the forest road, he would have uttered the appreciative

-adjective with even more energy. Tired, hungry, occasionally

-stooping to lift a handful of snow to her lips, 'Tilda Jane plodded

-on. Her thin figure was bent from fatigue. She had again picked up

-the wailing dog, and had slung him on her back in the shawl, yet

-there was not the slightest indication of faltering in her aspect.

-There were no clearings in the woods, no promise of settlement, yet

-her face was ever toward the promised land of Ciscasset, and her back

-to the place of captivity in Vanceboro.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER IX.

-

-LOST IN THE WOODS.

-

-

-Nothing could be more exquisitely beautiful than that winter morning

-in the Maine woods. The white glory of the snow, the stealing pink

-and gold glances of the sun, the bravery of the trees proudly

-rearing their heads aloft and stretching out their heavily laden

-arms,--all made a picture that filled with awe even the heart of

-rough Bob Lucas, unregistered guide and nominal lumberman, noted for

-his skill as hunter and poacher and his queer mingling of honesty,

-law-breaking, piety, and profanity.

-

-No, it was not a picture, it was reality, and he was a part of it. He

-was in it, he belonged to this glorious morning, the morning belonged

-to him, and he put up his hand and pulled off his cap.

-

-"Branching candlesticks on the altar of the Lord," he muttered as he

-surveyed the trees. "I feel like a vessel o' grace, more's the pity

-I can't take on the actions o' one."

-

-He stood lounging in the cabin door--red-haired, long-nosed, unkempt,

-and stalwart. Inside were his two sons getting the breakfast, and the

-appetising odour of frying bacon floated out on the fresh air.

-

-"Hi, Poacher--whot's up with you?" he suddenly exclaimed, and his

-gaze went to a deerhound of unusually sturdy build, who was ploughing

-through the snow toward the cabin.

-

-The dog wagged his tail, advanced, and, lifting toward him a

-countenance so bright with intelligence that it might almost be

-called human, opened his mouth, and dropped something at his master's

-feet.

-

-"Hello, boys!" said the man, stepping inside the cabin; "what in the

-name o' creation's this? I call it a morsel of woman's togs. Don't

-your mother wear aprons like it, or somethin'?"

-

-The two strapping lads in high boots and woollen shirts turned their

-red faces from the fireplace.

-

-"Yes, siree," said the taller of them, fingering the scrap of

-cotton; "they call it something like jingo."

-

-"Gingham, you gull," interposed his brother, with a guffaw of

-laughter. "I've seen it in the stores. Where'd you get it, pop?"

-

-"Poacher fetched it. When I got out o' my bunk this mornin' an'

-opened the door, he put up that ole muzzle of his an' give a sniff.

-Then off he sot. I knew he'd got somethin' on his mind. He's been

-runnin' deer, an' he found this on his way back."

-

-"He's a beaut," said the other lad, eyeing him admiringly. "He's

-nosed out something. What'll you do, pop?"

-

-"Swaller some breakfast an' make tracks for Morse's camp."

-

-"S'pose it was some person," said the younger of the boys, uneasily.

-

-"By gum!" and the man suddenly smote his thigh, "s'pose the ole woman

-had run after us with somethin'. Hustle on your coats, boys. Mebbe

-it's your ma."

-

-The faces of both boys had turned white, and their hands were

-shaking. Seizing their coats, they rushed out of the cabin.

-

-"Pop, it wasn't bitter last night," said the younger, in a hushed

-voice.

-

-"Shut up!" said his father, irritably, and in profound silence the

-three proceeded through the wood in single file, following the dog

-who, without excitement, but with his dark face beaming with pleasure

-at being understood, rapidly led them over his own tracks of a few

-minutes previous.

-

-Mile after mile they went in silence, until at last the father, who

-was leading, made a leap forward.

-

-There was a dark mound on the snow against a tree trunk, and dropping

-beside it he turned it over.

-

-"Thank the Lord!" he ejaculated, while scratching and beating the

-snow away from it, "it ain't what I feared."

-

-"Why, it's only a gal," said one of the boys. "Is she gone, pop?"

-

-"Here--shake her up," he replied. "What's this she's curled round? A

-dog, sure as thunder, an' alive an' warm. Merciful grindstones, look

-at him!"

-

-Irritably stepping out of wrappings, consisting of a small tippet

-and a shawl, was a little old dog, the most utter contrast to the

-handsome deerhound that could have been imagined.

-

-The hound stared inquiringly and politely at Gippie, and, being a

-denizen of the woods, made the first overtures to friendship by

-politely touching him with the end of his muzzle.

-

-The smaller dog snapped at him, whereupon the hound withdrew in

-dignified silence, and watched his owners, who were making vigorous

-efforts to restore the benumbed girl.

-

-"Her heart's beatin'," said Lucas, putting his hand on it. "The dog

-lay there, an' kep' it warm."

-

-"Rub her feet--rub harder," he said to his sons, while he himself

-began chafing 'Tilda Jane's wrists. "She's jist the age o' your

-sister Min. S'pose she was here, stone cold an' half dead!"

-

-The boys redoubled their efforts at resuscitation, and presently a

-faint colour appeared in the little girl's marble cheeks, and the

-cold lips slightly moved.

-

-Lucas put his head down. "What you sayin'? Dog, is it? He's all

-right. If you'd wrapped yourself more, an' him less, it might 'a'

-bin better. Yet, I guess not. If it hadn't 'a' bin for the dog, you'd

-'a' bin dead. Put on her shoes, boys. We'll carry her to that heap o'

-logs of ours."

-

-"Pop, will one of us have to show her out?" said Joe, anxiously

-pressing beside him.

-

-"Yep," said his father. "Here, strip off your coat an' put it round

-her."

-

-"An' I s'pose I'll hev to go 'cause I'm the youngest," said the boy,

-bitterly.

-

-"No, sir--you're always doin' dirty work. This time it'll be Zebedee."

-

-Zebedee frowned, and muttered that he wished girls would stay out o'

-the woods; then he tramped on beside his brother.

-

-"Here, gimme my gun," said Lucas, presently. "You-uns is younger. You

-kin carry the gal."

-

-He had been carrying 'Tilda Jane over his shoulder, and now the

-little procession started again, this time with the boys bearing the

-semi-unconscious burden.

-

-Gippie, squealing and complaining, followed behind as well as he was

-able, but finally, becoming stuck in a drift, gave a despairing yell

-and disappeared.

-

-Lucas turned around, went in the direction of the crooked tail

-sticking up from the snow, and pulling him out, contemptuously took

-him under his arm.

-

-"If you was my dog, you'd get a bullet to eat. Howsomever, you ain't,

-an' I guess we'll hev to keep you for the leetle gal. Git on thar,

-sons."

-

-Two hours later, 'Tilda Jane opened her eyes on a new world. Where

-had her adventures brought her this time? Had she died and gone to

-heaven? No, this must be earth, for she had just heard a string of

-very bad words uttered by some one near her. But she could not think

-about anything. A feeling of delicious languor overpowered her, and

-slowly opening and shutting her eyes, she little by little allowed

-her surroundings to impress themselves upon her.

-

-She was very warm and comfortable; she was sitting on the floor,

-propped against the wall by means of an overturned chair and

-blankets; a fire in an open fireplace blazed beside her; Gippie was

-making his toilet before this fire, and she was very happy.

-

-"Here, sup this," some one said, and languidly lifting her eyelids,

-she saw a big red-haired man bending over her.

-

-He was holding a cup to her lips--coffee sweetened with molasses.

-Just what they used to have at the asylum, and with a faint smile,

-and a feeble "Thank you, sir," she slowly swallowed it.

-

-"I was scared to give you any before," he said, gruffly; "thought you

-might choke. Here, gimme some grub, sons."

-

-'Tilda Jane felt a morsel of something put in her mouth. It was

-followed by another morsel of something hot and savoury, and speedily

-she felt new life in her veins. She could sit up now, and look about

-her.

-

-"Guess you can feed yourself," said the man, going back to the table.

-"Fall to now--you most got to the end of your tether."

-

-'Tilda Jane took the two-pronged fork he put in her hand, and began

-to eat with slow avidity, not disregarding the requests for titbits

-from her dog, who occasionally paused for that purpose in his

-endeavours to lick himself dry.

-

-At intervals she cast a glance at the centre of the cabin, where a

-man and two boys were seated at a rough table. These must be her

-rescuers. She had fallen down in the snow the night before. Not even

-her fear of death had been able to keep her on her feet.

-

-She stopped eating. "Who be you?"

-

-"We be lumbermen, when the fit takes us," said the man, shortly.

-

-"Well," said 'Tilda Jane, "I guess--" then she stopped, overpowered

-by intense feeling.

-

-"I guess," she went on, finally, "that there wouldn't 'a' bin much o'

-me this morning if it hadn't bin for you comin'."

-

-"'Twasn't us," said the man, agreeably, "'twas Poacher there," and he

-indicated the dog under the table, who, at the mention of his name,

-rose and walked politely toward the little girl.

-

-He looked at her and she looked at him, then he took a step nearer

-and laid his muzzle on her shoulder. With exquisite subtlety he

-comprehended all that she wished to say in relation to himself, and

-all that she felt in relation to the dog race in general.

-

-She laid her cheek against his velvet ear. Then her arm stole around

-his neck.

-

-The dog stood in courteous silence, until, feeling embarrassed under

-her attention, he looked somewhat foolishly at his master, and

-appealingly licked 'Tilda Jane's cheek.

-

-As quick to understand him as he was to understand her, she released

-him, whereupon he lay down beside her and put his handsome head on

-her lap.

-

-Gippie extended his muzzle, sniffed suspiciously, then his

-short-sighted eyes discovering the presence of a rival, he advanced

-snapping.

-

-The large dog generously averted his head, and Gippie, seeing that he

-was not to be dislodged, meanly curled himself up on Poacher's glossy

-back.

-

-[Illustration: "HE LAY DOWN BESIDE HER."]

-

-"Yes, that's a boss dog," the man went on. "Search the State from

-Fort Kent to Kittery Depot, and you'll not find a cuter. He's given

-me pointers many a time--where you hail from, leetle gal?"

-

-"I'm going to Ciscasset," she said, dreamily. Her mind was running

-back to the night before, and, unaware that she was holding a piece

-of bacon poised on her fork in tempting proximity to Poacher's nose,

-she stared intently at the fire.

-

-She had been near death. Had she been near the heaven that the matron

-and the "lady-boards" pictured, or would it have been the other

-place, on account of her disobedience?

-

-"The soul that sinneth it shall die"--"For whosoever shall keep the

-whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all"--"Keep

-thyself pure"--"For without are dogs, and sorcerers, and murderers,

-and idolaters, and whosoever loveth and maketh a lie"--that meant

-without the city, the beautiful city of gold where her mother

-probably was, and many of her unknown relatives, and where all good

-matrons, orphans, and "lady-boards" went.

-

-"I guess I'd bin without, with no comfort but the dogs," she thought

-bitterly, and pushing away her plate, she said aloud, "I thank ye

-kindly, but I can't swaller another morsel."

-

-A roar of laughter saluted her ears. Gippie's inquiring muzzle had

-scented out the bacon and had seized it, whereupon Poacher, knowing

-that it was not intended for him, had gently but firmly taken it from

-him, and was walking about the cabin, holding it aloft, while Gippie

-snarled at his heels.

-

-'Tilda Jane paid no attention to them. The greater matter of her

-soul's destiny was under consideration. "Are you an extry good man?"

-she abruptly asked her host.

-

-He stopped laughing, and a shadow came over his face. Then his glance

-went to his boys. "What you say, sons?"

-

-The boys stared at each other, avoided his eye, and said, uneasily,

-"Course you be, pop--don't make game."

-

-"Make game," repeated the man, strangely, "make game," then he

-laughed shortly, and made another onslaught on the bacon and bread.

-

-"'Cause I'm lookin' for an extry good person," went on 'Tilda Jane,

-brusquely. "Some one that won't blab, an' that I kin tell a story to."

-

-"Well, thar ain't no extry good persons in the woods," said her host,

-"we be only ordinary. You better wait till you git out. What was you

-doin' so far from houses last night, leetle gal, 'stead o' bein'

-tucked snug in bed?"

-

-"I might as well tell the truth," she said, helplessly. "I'm tired o'

-lies. I was runnin' away from somethin', but whether my runnin' was

-good or bad is what I can't make out."

-

-"While you're puzzlin' you eat some more breakfus'," said the man,

-getting up and putting another supply of bacon on her plate. "You've

-got to call up strength to git out. I s'pose you dunno you're some

-miles from sofas, an' pianos, an' easy chairs."

-

-"I didn't know where I was goin'," she said, apologetically, "or what

-I was comin' to. I jus' travelled on an' on. Then I begun to get

-queery an' I left the road. Thinks I, there'll be kind animiles in

-the woods. Mebbe I'll meet a nice black bear, an' he'll say, 'Little

-girl, you're lost an' I'll lead you to my den. We'll be happy to

-have you an' your little dog, an' I'll not let no one eat him, an'

-I'll give a big party an' invite all the foxes, an' deer, an' bears

-an' squirrels 'cause you're fond o' wild beasts, little girl.' An'

-it seemed I'd come to the bear's den, an' there was a soft bed, an'

-I just lay down, an' was goin' to sleep when I thought, 'Mebbe if I

-sleep, some little bird'll tell him I'm a baddie, an' he'll eat me

-up,' an' I felt just awful; then I forgot everythin' till I woke up

-here--I guess I'm obliged to you."

-

-The lumberman was about to reply to her when one of the boys

-ejaculated, "Hist, pop, look at Poacher!"

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER X.

-

-AMONG FRIENDS.

-

-

-The animal had gone to the door, and stood in a listening attitude.

-

-"Some one's comin'," said the boy. "Is everythin' snug?"

-

-The three cast hurried glances about the room, then shaking off a

-somewhat uneasy expression, the man stepped to the one and only

-window of the cabin.

-

-"Game warden Perch," he said, dryly, "and registered guide Hersey.

-Comin' spyin' round--bad luck to 'em," and he sulkily went back to

-the table.

-

-Presently there came a knocking at the door. "Come in," bawled Lucas,

-not inhospitably, and two men, much smarter, cleaner, and more

-dapper-looking than the red-haired man and his sons, entered the

-cabin.

-

-"Howdye," they said simultaneously, as they stood their guns and

-snow-shoes against the wall, and took possession of the two boxes

-vacated by the boys at a sign from their father. Then, with an

-appearance of enjoyment, they dragged the boxes near the fire, and

-stretched out their hands to the blaze.

-

-'Tilda Jane saw that they were staring in unmitigated astonishment at

-her, and with a feeling that she herself was out of the world and in

-a place where passers-by were few and infrequent, she examined them

-in equal interest.

-

-"Where'd you come from?" asked the elder of them at last, fixing her

-with a pair of piercing eyes.

-

-"She got keeled over on the old road last night," spoke up Lucas,

-much to her relief. "Lost her way. Dog here, found her," and he

-motioned toward Poacher, who was surveying the newcomers in cold

-curiosity.

-

-Warden Perch's attention being drawn to the dog, he stared at him

-earnestly, then turned to his companion. "Ever see that animal

-before?"

-

-"Not near at hand," said the other, with a slight sneer. "Guess'

-I've seen his hind legs and the tip of his tail once or twice."

-

-"Hev some breakfus?" said Lucas, who was imperturbably going on with

-his own.

-

-Warden Perch inspected the table. "Not on bacon--haven't you got

-something more uncommon?"

-

-"We've got some beans in thar," said Lucas, with a backward nod of

-his head toward a bag on the floor, "coarse brown beans. They might

-be a treat for ye, seein' ye don't git 'em much in hotels."

-

-Perch flushed angrily and opened his mouth as if to make a retort.

-Then he drew a blank book from his pocket, and to calm himself ran

-his eye over the report he was making for the game commissioner of

-the State.

-

-"Left Nexter 10.55 A. M. March 1, for Bluefield. March 2 at Bearville

-11.30 A. M. Jim Greene's camp Lake Clear at 4.35 P. M. March 3 left

-camp at 7 A. M. Bill Emerson's camp 9.47 A. M. Reached moose yard on

-back side Fern Brook Ridge 1.47 P. M. 3 moose in yard--Henry," he

-said, lifting his head and abruptly addressing his companion, "some

-of those poachers have mighty cute tricks."

-

-Henry nodded assent.

-

-"Those fellows at Hacmactac Station tried hard to fool us last

-week,--cut the legs off the deer, then got a couple of bears' feet

-and had the bone of the bear's leg slipped up under the skin on the

-leg of the deer. Then they put them up so sly in three layers of

-bagging with nothing but bears' feet sticking out, but I caught on to

-those bears' legs, and said the feet weren't big enough. So I had it

-opened and took the deer and the fellows to Mattawamkeag, and I guess

-they think forty dollars apiece was just about enough for a fine."

-

-Lucas and his sons burst out laughing, and 'Tilda Jane shrewdly

-suspected by their amused faces and knowing glances that they

-had heard the story before. There was no love lost between these

-newcomers and her preservers, and Lucas and his sons would be glad

-when their callers left the cabin. But what was all this talk about

-deer? Surely they did not kill the pretty creatures whom without

-having seen she loved.

-

-She cleared her throat and in a weak little voice addressed the

-game warden. "Sir, I've got pictures in my joggafry of deer with

-branching horns. Does bad men kill them?"

-

-Warden Perch gave her another alert glance. Here was no confederate

-of poachers. "Yes," he said, severely, "bad men do kill them, and

-dogs chase them, but mind this, young girl--poachers get nabbed

-in the long run. They slide for a time, but there's a trip-up at

-the end. And their dogs, too--I've shot three hounds this week for

-dogging deer."

-

-"You have shot dogs!" repeated 'Tilda Jane, in a horrified tone, and

-pressing Gippie closer to her.

-

-"If I didn't shoot them, they'd kill the deer," said the man,

-irritably.

-

-"Oh!" murmured 'Tilda Jane. Here was one of the mysteries of nature

-that was quite beyond her comprehension. The dog hunted the deer, and

-the man hunted the dog. The deer apparently was the weaker one, and

-she must inquire into the matter.

-

-"What does bad men kill deer for?" she asked, timidly.

-

-"Haven't you ever eaten any deer meat?" asked the warden.

-

-"I didn't know it was good to eat," she said, sadly.

-

-"You haven't had any here in this cabin?"

-

-"I guess not, unless I might 'a' eat it when I was fainty."

-

-Lucas eyed her peculiarly, and the meaning of the warden's question

-and offensive manner burst upon her. "That's a good man," she said,

-indignantly, starting from her half-reclining position and pointing

-to Lucas. "I guess men that takes little girls out o' snow-banks

-don't kill deer."

-

-Warden Perch laughed and rose from his seat. He had very little

-sentiment with regard to the animal creation. "I calculate we'd

-better be moving," he said, to the guide. "Don't suppose we'd see

-anything to keep us here, unless we'd hang on for the big snow-storm

-they say is coming, and that I expect you're waiting for," and he

-looked at Lucas.

-

-"Me an' my sons," said the latter, coolly, "is on our way to David

-Morse's lumber camp. Two of his hands had to come out 'count o'

-sickness. We lay out to git thar this evenin'. Was late in startin'

-last night, an' camped here. We'll hev to git this leetle gal out,

-'thout you might undertake it, seein' as you're makin' for outside, I

-s'pose."

-

-"Get your own find out," said the warden, severely; "it will keep you

-out of mischief, and look here--if I find that dog of yours up to

-tricks, you know what I'll do."

-

-"Shoot him on sight," said Lucas, stooping and patting the animal

-who was pressing close to him; "but you'll never ketch him, 'cause

-he ain't the sort o' dog to be ketched in any kind o' mischief; hey,

-Poacher?"

-

-The guide went out, and the warden with a scowl followed, slamming

-the door after him.

-

-Lucas and his sons crowded to the window to see their callers depart,

-and when they were fairly out of sight, they burst into relieved

-laughter, and noisily drew their boxes up to the fire.

-

-"Say, pop, ain't he mad?" remarked Joe, excitedly. "Mad 'cause you're

-too cute for him. He'd give his teeth to fasten something on to you."

-

-"Shut up," said his father, with a roll of his eye toward 'Tilda Jane.

-

-The girl was puzzled. Lucas, who seemed a nice man, was treated as

-if he were not a friend to the deer, while the departed ones, whom

-she did not like at all, seemed to be their protectors. "Who are

-those men?" she asked, curiously.

-

-"Wal, I'll tell you," said Lucas, taking two moose ear skins from his

-pocket, and fitting them together to make a tobacco-pouch, "them two

-is fancy game men. The warden an' the guide likes to lounge in easy

-chairs round hotels an' tell of their doin's in the woods, how the

-poachers tremble an' run when they see 'em comin'. As a rule, they

-don't take to the woods till they're druv to it by some complaint.

-Then they're awful fierce, an' growl an' show their teeth, an' run

-home. Nobody don't care nothin' for 'em."

-

-"Are there many men killing deer?" asked the little girl, falteringly.

-

-"Many men!" groaned Lucas. "Law me, what a question! Las' year,

-leetle gal, thar was awful heavy snow, eight foot deep in Franklin

-County, seven foot in Somerset, Piscataquis, Penobscot, and

-Aroostook. What a year for big game! They couldn't git away. They was

-as helpless as sheep. Storm came on storm, till we was walkin' up

-among the tree branches and knockin' off the snow with a stick. Snow

-covered tracks, and poachers took possession o' the airth."

-

-"They lived high in the lumber camps, pop, do you mind?" said

-Zebedee, smacking his lips. "When a fellow was starvin' the smell

-just come out to meet him."

-

-"You bet, only you wasn't thar to smell it," said his father,

-sharply, "you mind that. You young ones takes to the woods too

-natural."

-

-He surveyed them with mingled pride and dissatisfaction, then came

-back to his reminiscences. "I vum that was a winter, but the deer

-would 'a' starved if they hadn't been shot, for the snow was so deep

-that they couldn't get to their food. That there Perch made a great

-flurry about gettin' in an' drivin' six deer to a swamp where they

-could git green stuff, but I don't believe a word of it. I believe he

-shot and ate them."

-

-"Do you mind the deer that was dogged into our yard, pop?" exclaimed

-Joe. "I saw 'em as they crossed the river--dog not fifteen foot

-behind."

-

-"And what became of that deer?" asked 'Tilda Jane, unsteadily.

-

-Lucas winked at his sons and concluded the story himself. "He run

-across our yard, an' among the bark pilers at Meek an' Sons' tannery.

-When the animal come runnin' down between the bark piles, some of the

-crew was for killin' him, but I was workin' thar, an' I wouldn't let

-'em. He stayed round close to us all day, an' when any dog come an'

-sniffed at him, he'd run up close an' tremble, an' ask us to see fair

-play."

-

-"You killed that deer," exclaimed 'Tilda Jane, bursting into tears.

-"Oh! why does God let men be so wicked?"

-

-Sobs were almost tearing her little, lean frame to pieces. She

-had not worked up gradually to a pitch of emotion, but had fallen

-immediately into it, and Lucas and his sons stared wonderingly at her.

-

-Poor little girl! She looked as if she had come through a sea of

-troubles, and pity stirred in the man's rough but not unkindly breast.

-

-"Shut up now, shut up, missy," he said, soothingly. "We did shoot

-that feller, but thar warn't nowhere to keep him, but deer has bin

-kep'. Soft now, an' I'll tell ye of Seth Winthrop, who has a park

-an' is a rich man. Las' year, when you couldn't go scarce five mile

-without seein' tracks o' blood in the snow where some one had been

-slaughterin', a moose was chased near Winthrop's place. He was so

-dead beat that he jus' stood an' trembled, an' one o' Winthrop's men

-put a halter on him, an' led him to the barnyard an' give him fodder

-an' drink, an' that livin' young moose is in Winthrop's park to-day,

-an' he weighs four hundred pound."

-

-'Tilda Jane was still sobbing, and Joe nudged his father. "Tell her

-'bout the bear, pop."

-

-"Now here's somethin' that'll make you laugh," said Lucas, kindly.

-"It's about a bad bear that went an' got drunk. I was on a fishin'

-trip, an' I had a jug o' black-strap with me. Know what that is,

-leetle gal?"

-

-"No-o-o," gasped 'Tilda Jane, who, rather ashamed of her emotion, was

-trying to sober herself.

-

-"Wal--it's the State o' Maine name for rum an' molasses mixed, an'

-you take it with you in case you git sick. There was some other men

-with me, an' they'd gone off in a boat on the lake. I had a gun,

-but 'pon my word I didn't think o' usin' it, 'count of gratitude to

-that b'ar for givin' me such a treat--just as good as a circus. Wal,

-I must tell how it happened. I didn't feel well that day--had a kind

-o' pain, an' I was lyin' on the bank in the sun, foolin' an' wishin'

-I was all right. By an' by, thinks I, I'll go to the camp an' hev

-a drink o' black-strap. I was mos' thar, when I met a wicked thief

-b'ar comin' out. Powers around, he was as tipsy as a tinker. He'd

-bin at my black-strap, an' I wish you could 'a' seen him. He didn't

-know where he was at, or where he wanted to be at, an' he was jolly,

-an' friendly, an' see-sawed roun' me, an' rolled an' swaggered till

-I tho't I'd die laughin'. My pain went like las' year's snow, an' I

-walked after that b'ar till he was out o' sight. Just like a drunken

-man he was, makin' for home, an' in the midst of all his foolery

-havin' an idea of where he'd oughter go. I'd 'a' given a good deal to

-see Mrs. B'ar's face when he arrove. An' didn't those other fellers

-give it to me for not shootin' him! I said I couldn't take a mean

-advantage of his sitooation."

-

-'Tilda Jane's face was composed now, and with a faint smile she

-reverted to the subject of the deer. "Don't you feel bad when you're

-killin' them, an' they looks at you with their big eyes?"

-

-"Look here, leetle gal, don't you talk no more 'bout them, or you'll

-hev me as mush-hearted as you be," said Lucas, getting up and going

-to the window. "At present I ain't got no feelin' about deer excep'

-that what's in the woods is ours. You jus' stand up an' try your

-feet. It's goin' to snow, an' I'd like to git you out o' here. Did

-you ever try to teeter along on snow-shoes?"

-

-"No, sir," she said, getting up and walking across the room.

-

-Lucas was anxiously surveying the sky. "'Pears like it was goin'

-to snow any minute. The las' thaw took the heft of it off the

-ground--you'd 'a' never got in this fur if it hadn't--an' we're bound

-to hev another big fall. It ain't fur to the road, an' I guess you

-an' Zebedee better start. Lemme see you walk, sissy."

-

-'Tilda Jane tottered back to her seat.

-

-"It's a smart trot home," observed Zebedee. "D'ye think she could

-foot it?"

-

-"Pop, it's snowin' now," said Joe, who had taken his father's place

-at the window.

-

-With almost incredible rapidity there had been a change in the

-weather. A small and sullen cloud had hidden the dreamy, thoughtful

-sun, and out of the cloud came wheeling, choking gusts, bearing

-bewildered snowflakes up and down, hither and thither, before

-allowing them to alight turbulently upon the quiet earth.

-

-"That's quick," muttered Lucas, philosophically. "We'll hev to put

-off opinions till it's over," and he again sat down by the fire. The

-wind tore around the small cabin, furiously seeking an entrance,

-but finding none. Outside at least he could have his will, and his

-vengeance fell upon the sturdy young firs and spruces, who at his

-fierce word of command threw off their burdens of snow, and bent

-and swayed before his wrath as wildly as the most graceful hardwood

-saplings. The older trees bent more reluctantly. They had seen many

-winters, many storms, yet occasionally a groan burst from them as

-the raging breath of the wind monster blew around some decaying giant

-and hurled him to the ground.

-

-'Tilda Jane pictured the scene without, and cowered closer to the

-fire. Gippie was on her lap, Poacher beside her, and this man with

-his two boys, who at present personified her best friends in the

-world, were safe and warm in their shelter.

-

-Her dark face cleared, and in dreamy content she listened to the

-string of hunting stories reeled off by the two boys, who, without

-addressing her directly, were evidently stimulated by the knowledge

-that here was an interested, appreciative, and "brand new" listener.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XI.

-

-A SUDDEN RESOLUTION.

-

-

-The storm did not abate. All day long it raged around the cabin, and

-the four prisoners talked, ate, and drank without grumbling at their

-captivity. When bedtime approached, Lucas addressed 'Tilda Jane in an

-apologetic manner. "Ye see we ain't used to havin' leetle gals, an'

-I'm afeard we can't make you very comfy, as my ole woman says, but

-we'll do the best we kin. This room's all we've got, but I'm goin'

-to try to make it two. See here," and rising, he went to one of the

-rough bunks built against the wall opposite the fire; "I'm a-goin' to

-drape ye off a place for yourself and dog," and, hanging a blanket on

-a hook by the fireplace, he called loudly for a nail to drive in the

-logs across the corner.

-

-The two boys, who were playing cards at the table, jumped up, and

-presently 'Tilda Jane had a snug corner to herself. Lucas had

-dragged out one of the fragrant fir beds from one of the bunks. The

-rustling of the evergreen inside reminded her of her narrow straw bed

-at the orphanage, and drawing the blanket over her, she nestled down

-and patiently waited for her friends to seek their equally fragrant

-couches. She was very sleepy, but she must not drop off until she had

-said her prayers. It never occurred to her to repeat them to herself.

-She must get up and say them aloud, and upon her knees.

-

-After some time there was silence outside her screen, except for the

-heavy breathing of the sleepers, and the slow, deliberate crackling

-of the fire over the fresh wood heaped upon it by Lucas.

-

-She crept quietly from her bed and knelt down. "Dear Father in

-heaven, I thank thee for saving my life. I might 'a' been dead at

-this minute if thou hadst not sent that good dog to find me. Please

-make me a better girl for being saved. I'll take good care o' that

-old man if thou wilt let me find him. Bless the red-haired man that

-owns this cabin. I guess he is a good man, Lord, but if he kills

-deer, wilt thou not lay on his heart a coal from thy altar? If he

-was a deer, he would not like to be killed. Bless him, dear Father

-in heaven, an' his two boys, an' bless me an' Gippie an' Poacher

-an' keep us safe for evermore,--an' bless the lady-boards, an' the

-matron, an' all the little orphans, an' let them find good homes an'

-get out o' the 'sylum,--Lord, I will write them a letter as soon as I

-get settled, an' confess what is wickedness, an' what ain't. I don't

-want to be a bad little girl. I want to live straight, an' go to

-heaven when I die, but I'm sorry I had to begin in a 'sylum. It ain't

-a place for children what likes animiles. For Jesus' sake, Amen."

-

-With a relieved sigh, 'Tilda Jane crept back to bed and went to

-sleep, quite unaware that her petition had awakened Lucas, who slept

-as lightly as a cat. She had waked him, and now he could not go to

-sleep. For a long time he lay motionless in his bunk, then softly

-getting up, he seated himself on one of the boxes before the fire,

-and let his head sink on his hands.

-

-Years ago he had had a deeply religious mother. One who would rise

-at dead of night and pray earnestly for her children. 'Tilda Jane's

-childish prayer had brought back this mother from her grave. What a

-good woman she had been! The dying wind, sobbing and sighing without,

-called to mind the camp-meetings that he used to attend when he was

-a boy. Churches were few and far between, and it was the event of

-the year for the scattered religious people to gather together under

-the pines for out-of-door services. He could hear the women singing

-now,--the weird sound of their voices floated down the chimney.

-Surely he was among them again,--that good, religious crowd.

-

-He shook himself, muttered an impatient exclamation, and went back to

-bed. No, they were mostly dead, his mother was in heaven, and he was

-a hard, impenitent man. But his children--something ought to be done

-about them. This little girl had stirred these old memories--Zebedee

-and Joe must quit this life, and, with a snarl of determination

-on his brow, he turned over and fell into a profound and resolved

-slumber.

-

-Early the next morning 'Tilda Jane heard some one stirring quietly

-about the cabin. She peeped from behind the screen, and found that

-it was the father of the boys. He was making coffee, and taking

-dishes from a shelf to set them on the small table. He was also

-frying meat.

-

-'Tilda Jane did not like to venture out until the boys had made

-their toilet, which they presently did by springing from their beds,

-drawing on their boots, and smoothing their thick locks with a piece

-of comb that reposed on a small shelf near a broken looking-glass.

-

-When they had finished, she piped through the screen, "Will you

-please gimme a lend o' the comb?"

-

-It was politely handed to her, and in a short time she made her

-appearance.

-

-"Ho--deer's meat!" said Joe, sniffing joyfully. "Where'd you get it,

-pop?"

-

-"Found half a carcass leanin' agin the door this mornin'," he said,

-briefly.

-

-"Some o' the boys must 'a' left it on their way out," remarked

-Zebedee. "Hard blow to travel in. Gimme some, pop."

-

-Lucas had settled himself at the table, and was eating with every

-appearance of enjoyment.

-

-"Nop," he said, pausing, and speaking with his mouth full. "That thar

-is for you an' the leetle gal."

-

-The boys stared at him in undisguised astonishment.

-

-"Fall to," he said, inexorably, "eat your bacon and beans, an' be

-thankful you've got 'em. There's many an empty stummick in the woods

-this mornin'."

-

-Joe, who was readier of speech than his brother, found his tongue

-first. "Ain't you goin' to give us any fresh meat, pop?"

-

-"No, sir-r-r."

-

-"You ain't got loony in the night, pop?"

-

-"Y' don't calklate to eat half a carcass y'rself, do ye?" said

-Zebedee, with a feeble attempt at a joke.

-

-"Nop--what I don't eat, I'll lug off in the woods."

-

-"He's loony," said Joe, with resignation, and serving himself with

-bacon.

-

-'Tilda Jane was silently eating bread and beans, and to her Lucas

-addressed himself. "Leetle gal, the storm's a-goin' to conclude

-accordin' to my reckonin'. Kin you foot it out on snow-shoes this

-mornin' to the nearest house, do you s'pose?"

-

-"Yes, sir," she said, quietly.

-

-"An' you two boys will keep her comp'ny," said Lucas, turning to his

-sons. "I'm a-goin' to march on to Morse's camp."

-

-There was a howl of dismay from Joe. "You give me your word Zebedee

-was to go."

-

-"An' I give you my word now that you're to go," said his father,

-sternly. "In an hour I'll make tracks. You two wait till the last

-flake's settled, then take the leetle gal an' git her out safe an'

-sound to William Mercer's. Ask him to hitch up an' take her over to

-Nicatoos station, an' I'll settle with him. Then you skedaddle for

-home, git out your books, an' to-morrer go to school."

-

-This time there was a simultaneous howl from the boys, and in the

-midst of their distress could be heard faintly articulated the words,

-"Pop--books--school!"

-

-Lucas turned to 'Tilda Jane. "Yes, we're poachers, leetle gal, an'

-when I ask ye to say nothin' about what ye've seen an' heard here, I

-know ye'll keep as mum as we do. I'm a poacher, an' I'm goin' to hev

-a hard time to give it up. They used to call me king o' the poachers,

-till another feller come along smarter nor I was. Anyway, I can't

-give it up yet. It's in my blood now, an' men as ole as I be don't

-repent easy. It's when ye're young an' squshy that you repents. But

-these two cubs o' mine," and he eyed his boys with determination,

-"has got to give up evil ways right off. Ye've got to go to school,

-sons, an' learn somethin', an' quit poachin', an' hevin' the law

-hangin' over ye all the time."

-

-The boys looked ugly and rebellious, and, perceiving it, he went on.

-"Come now, none o' that; when ye're respectable, hard-workin' men

-ye'll be ashamed o' your father, an' that'll be my punishment if I

-don't get out o' this. An' you needn't kick, 'cause I'll lick ye all

-to splinters if I ketches one o' you in the woods this spring. Ye've

-got to turn right round."

-

-"I'll turn right round an' come back," said Zebedee, bitterly and

-furiously.

-

-Lucas got up, took him by the coat collar, and, without a word, led

-him outside the cabin.

-

-A few minutes later they returned--both flushed--Lucas grim and

-determined, and Zebedee sulky and conquered.

-

-"Air you also cravin' for an argyment?" asked Lucas, ironically, of

-Joe.

-

-"I'm cravin' to lick you," said the boy, bursting out into a wild

-raving and swearing at him.

-

-"Swearin' when there is ladies present," said his father, seizing him

-by the shoulder, and dragging him the way his brother had gone.

-

-'Tilda Jane stopped eating, and sat miserably with downcast eyes.

-She felt dimly that she had made trouble in this family, and brought

-additional misfortune upon herself, for what kind of escorts would

-these whipped boys be?

-

-Lucas's tussle with Joe was a longer one than the former with Zebedee

-had been, and not until after some time did he return. Joe hung about

-outside for an hour, then he came in, shaking and stamping the snow

-from him, and, as if nothing had happened, sat down and finished his

-breakfast.

-

-Lucas, meanwhile, had been making preparations for his long tramp.

-'Tilda Jane watched him with interest as he took a sack, tied a

-potato in each corner, and proceeded to fill it with parcels of

-provisions.

-

-When at last he sat down, took off his cow-hide moccasins, and began

-to tie on soft moose moccasins, fit for snow-shoeing, he addressed

-his two boys.

-

-"When parients tell their children things air to be did, they ought

-to be did. When the children raves an' tears, they ought to be

-licked, an' when the lickin's over, the reasons come. Air you sighin'

-either o' ye to see the inside o' State's prison? Air you, Zebedee?"

-

-"No, sir," said the boy, shortly.

-

-"Air you, Joe?"

-

-Joe, with his mouth full of beans, replied that he was not.

-

-"Wal, that's where you'll land if ye don't quit breakin' State's law.

-Ye ain't either o' ye as clever as I be, but I've got to try to give

-it up, too. I've bin feelin' that ye'd git caught some day, and I've

-made up my mind, an' I'll hold it to my dyin' day. I'm goin' to crowd

-ye out o' this risky game. If I ketch one o' you after deer agin,

-I'll give ye up to the warden myself. I swan I will," and he brought

-his hand down energetically on the table. "Now you go home an' go to

-school with smart boys an' gals till summer vacation, then ye can

-tell me what ye think of it. I'll not pretend I'll let ye out of it

-if ye don't like it, but I guess ye will. Ye've bin to school before

-an' made good progress, an' I asks yer pardon for takin' ye out."

-

-Zebedee listened in quiet resentfulness, but Joe, who possessed a

-more volatile disposition, and who having satisfied his hunger was

-comparatively good-natured, remarked, "What'll ye do about Poacher,

-pop?"

-

-Lucas's face darkened suddenly, and unhappily.

-

-"Come here, ole boy," he said, and when the dog went to him, he bowed

-his head for a minute over him. "We've bin good friends--me an' you.

-Many's the trap I've led ye in, an' many a time my heart would 'a'

-bin sore if ye'd a bin caught. An' now, 'count o' my transgression,

-ye're a wanderin' sheep. Ye'll never git back in the fold agin unless

-some good sheep leads ye."

-

-"There's somethin' you can't make over," said Zebedee, briefly.

-"He'll chase deer as long as he kin wag a leg."

-

-"Leetle gal," said Lucas, suddenly, "would ye like to hev this dog?"

-

-"To have him--that beauty dog!" 'Tilda Jane gasped, confusedly. "Oh,

-sir, you'd never give him away."

-

-"I'd most as soon give a child away," said Lucas, "an' I'd never do

-it, if it warn't for his habits. Ye're a-goin' to Ciscasset, which is

-somethin' of a place, an' a ways from the woods. An' ye'll pet him

-an' kinder cherish him, an' keep him from frettin' an' bein' lonely.

-My ole woman don't set much store by dogs, an' when I'm workin' in

-the tannery he's off doggin' deer by himself. He's nearly got shot

-dead. See those ripples in his back? That's where he's bin grazed.

-Poacher, ole boy, you've got to go with this leetle gal, if she'll

-hev you."

-

-'Tilda Jane hesitated, stammered, looked into the dog's anxious face,

-and the boys' protesting ones, and said at last, "But the ole man

-where I'm goin', mebbe he'll breach at my havin' two dogs."

-

-"Prob'bly he will," said Lucas, "but you crowd right up to him.

-Folks is queer 'bout dogs. Them as don't like 'em don't want to give

-'em standin' room on this airth, but you walk right up to 'em an'

-say, 'This dog has as good a right to a place on God's footstool as

-you hev, an' I'm goin' to see he gits it. If you was more like a

-dog yerself, ye'd be more thought of, ye cross-grained, cranky ole

-skillingsby'--come you, sons, quit that scowlin'. Do ye know why I'm

-givin' that dog to the little gal stid o' you?"

-

-They uttered a brief negative.

-

-"'Cause she knows dog language," said Lucas, dropping his voice to a

-whisper, and looking mysteriously over his shoulder, "an' if there

-was a deer here, you'd find she knowed deer talk. You, sons, is fond

-o' dogs, but not in the style the leetle gal is, or I be. It's a kind

-o' smartness at gettin' inside the animal's skin. He don't verily

-talk. Ye jist understan' him without talk--leetle gal, what's Poacher

-sayin' now?"

-

-"Oh, he don't want to go with me," burst out 'Tilda Jane, with

-energy. "He's a sick dog. Look at his eyes an' his droopin' ears. He

-don't want you to give him away. He don't want me to take him. Oh, I

-can't!" and she buried her face in her hands as if to hide temptation

-from her.

-

-"He's got to go," said Lucas, stroking Poacher's head, "an' mind

-me, dog," and he put his hand under the dog's jaws and lifted them

-so that he could look in his eyes, "no runnin' away from Ciscasset.

-Ye stay with that leetle gal. Don't ye come chasin' round here,

-'cause if ye do, I'll turn my back on ye for a runaway, an' ye'll

-feel worse'n ye do now when we part on speakin' terms. Say, is it a

-bargain, ole feller? Call him, leetle gal."

-

-'Tilda Jane was overawed by Lucas's determined manner, and dropping

-her hands she ejaculated feebly, "Here, Poacher, Poacher!"

-

-The dog looked at her, then pressed closer to his master, whereupon

-Lucas seized a stick by the fireplace, and struck him sharply.

-

-Poacher turned his large brown eyes on him in one despairing,

-reproachful glance, then with drooping head sauntered across the room

-to the boys.

-

-"Call him," said Lucas to 'Tilda Jane. "Speak up as if ye knew he was

-your dog."

-

-"Poacher," she said, in a firm voice, "come here. You're mos' as

-unhappy as I be--we'll be unhappy together."

-

-The suffering animal moved slowly toward her, and laid his head on

-her lap.

-

-There were tears in his eyes, and the little girl groaned as she

-wiped them away.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XII.

-

-FAREWELL TO THE POACHERS.

-

-

-Lucas was ready to start, and 'Tilda Jane and the boys stood in the

-doorway watching him tie on his snow-shoes.

-

-"Now, sons," he said, straightening himself up and drawing on his

-woollen mittens, "I'm goin' one way an' you another, but if ye act

-contrairy an' pouty to that leetle gal, I'll know it, for she's

-goin' to write me, an' if there's any complaint, there'll be such a

-wallopin' as these ones this mornin' would be a shadder an' a dream

-to."

-

-His lecture over, he looked over his shoulder and narrowly inspected

-the faces of his two boys. They were reserved, almost expressionless.

-It might be a month before he saw them again. He forgot 'Tilda Jane

-for an instant, "Sons--ye know yer pop loves ye, don't ye?"

-

-His tone had suddenly changed, and the two big boys ran to him as

-if they still were children. "Pop, can't we come back after we take

-her out?" they exclaimed, with backward jerks of their heads toward

-'Tilda Jane. Their hands were on his arms, and they were roughly

-fondling his shoulders--these two unmannerly cubs of his.

-

-"Sons," he said, in a broken voice, "I ain't been a good father to

-ye. I've got to spend the last o' my life in rootin' up the weeds I

-sowed the fust part. I don't want you to have such a crop. Now you go

-'long out an' be good sons. Your mother'll be sot up, an' you mind

-what she says, an' I'll soon come home. Take good care o' the leetle

-gal," and passing his hand, first over one brown head, then over the

-other, he tramped away out of view among the snowy spruces.

-

-The boys and 'Tilda Jane went back into the cabin. The two former sat

-together by the fire and talked, taking little notice of her. All

-their friendliness of the evening before was gone, yet they were not

-openly unkind, but simply neglectful. Toward noon the snow ceased

-falling, as Lucas had predicted, the sun came out brilliantly, and

-they began making preparations for departure.

-

-Zebedee was to wear an old pair of snow-shoes that had been left in

-the cabin, and 'Tilda Jane was to put on his new ones. Her humility

-and unselfishness slightly thawed the boys' reserve, and when they at

-last started, her ridiculous attempts at snow-shoeing threw them into

-fits of laughter.

-

-Zebedee carried the infirm Gippie, who otherwise would have sunk to

-his neck in the snow, Poacher soberly plunged his way along, while

-Joe assisted 'Tilda Jane in keeping her equilibrium. After an hour's

-travel, she had become quite expert in the art of taking wide steps,

-and no longer needed his helping hand.

-

-"Air we mos' there?" she asked.

-

-"In the span of another hour and a half," said Joe.

-

-The hour and a half went by. They tramped on under the serene blue of

-the sky, and in such a solemn stillness that it seemed as if never a

-bird nor beast could have inhabited this white wilderness. Only the

-voiceless, silent trees were there, clad all in white like ghosts

-of departed living things. But at last their winding way through

-the wood came to an end, and they stepped out on the old road. Here

-were evidences of travel. A few teams had passed by, and there were

-snow-shoe tracks alongside those of the sleigh runners.

-

-The trees also grew more sparsely, and soon gave place to clearings,

-then the distant roof of a barn appeared, and finally a long, thin

-string of small farmhouses winding down a bleak road before them.

-

-"Is this your home?" asked 'Tilda Jane, of the boys.

-

-"Nop," answered Joe, "we live off'n that way," and he pointed down a

-road to the left. "But we've got to take you here to the Mercers',

-pop said."

-

-He drew up before the first in the string of houses,--a poor

-enough place, and unspeakably chilling in its deathly whiteness. A

-tiny white house, a white barn, a white fence, a white cow in the

-yard,--white snow over everything.

-

-"Looks as if they'd all died an' gone to heaven," thought 'Tilda

-Jane, with a shiver.

-

-"Hole on," said Joe. "I'll run ahead an' see if the folks is home.

-Ain't no smoke cornin' out o' the chimney."

-

-He swung open the gate, hurried in, pounded at the front door,

-pounded at the back door, and finally returned. "Guess there mus' be

-a funeral or somethin'--all off, anyway. What'll we do, Zeb?"

-

-Zebedee shrugged his shoulders. "S'pose we go nex' door?"

-

-"But them's the Folcutts," objected Joe.

-

-"S'pose they be."

-

-"Well, you know--"

-

-"Guess they kin drive as well as Mercer's folks."

-

-"What would pop say?"

-

-"It's nearer than the nex' house."

-

-"I'm kind o' tired," said 'Tilda Jane, politely and faintly. "Just

-drop me, an' you go back. I'll find some one."

-

-"Nop," said Joe, firmly, "we promised pop."

-

-"Come on," said Zebedee, "let's try the Folcutts."

-

-They went slowly on to the next blot on the landscape,--this one, a

-low-roofed, red house with untidy windows, and a feeble, wavering

-line of smoke rising from the kitchen chimney.

-

-They all went around to the back door, and, in response to their

-knock a slatternly woman appeared.

-

-"What you want, boys?"

-

-"Pop says will you take this gal to Nicatoos station?" asked Joe.

-"He'll square up with you when he comes out."

-

-The woman looked 'Tilda Jane all over. "The roads is main heavy."

-

-'Tilda Jane leaned up against the door-post, and the woman relented.

-"I guess it won't kill our hoss," she remarked. "Is it the seven

-o'clocker you want?"

-

-'Tilda Jane appealed to the boys.

-

-"Yes, m'am," responded Joe, promptly.

-

-"Needn't start for an hour yit. Come on in, boys."

-

-"I guess we'll be goin' on home," said Zebedee.

-

-Joe, for some reason or other, seemed reluctant to leave 'Tilda Jane.

-He carefully lifted Gippie to a resting-place by the kitchen stove,

-untied 'Tilda Jane's snow-shoes and strapped them on his back,

-stroked Poacher repeatedly, and finally with a hearty "So long,

-little gal, let's hear from you," he made her an awkward bob of his

-head and ran after his brother, who had reached the road.

-

-'Tilda Jane drew up to the stove, and, while she sat drying her

-dress, looked about her. What a dirty kitchen! The log cabin she had

-just left was neatness itself compared with this place. Pots and pans

-were heaped in a corner of the room, the table was littered with

-soiled dishes, the woman herself was unkempt, frowsy, and dispirited

-in appearance.

-

-She was also cunning, for, while she seized a broom and stirred about

-the accumulation of dust on the floor, she inspected the little girl

-with curious, furtive glances.

-

-"You bin stoppin' with the Lucases?" she asked, at last.

-

-She had opened the door, and while she looked one way she carelessly

-tried to sweep in another way the pile of rubbish she had collected.

-

-"Yes, m'am," said 'Tilda Jane, wearily.

-

-"How's Mis' Lucas?"

-

-'Tilda Jane paused to gaze out the open door. Why did not the woman

-shut it? And why, when it was so pure and clean without, did she

-not feel ashamed to keep so dull and untidy a house? If it were

-summer-time, and the ground were brown and green, this dun-coloured

-room would not be so bad, but now--the contrast made her sick.

-

-"How's Mis' Lucas?" repeated her hostess, in a dull voice.

-

-"I don't know," replied 'Tilda Jane.

-

-Mrs. Folcutt poised herself on her broom and with rustic deliberation

-weighed the statement just made. Then she said, "She ain't gone away?"

-

-"I dunno," said 'Tilda Jane, "I never see her in my life."

-

-Here was a puzzle, and Mrs. Folcutt pondered over it in silence,

-until the draught of chilly air made her remember to close the door.

-

-"Are we to start soon?" inquired 'Tilda Jane, after a time.

-

-"I ain't a-goin' to take you," said her hostess, unamiably, "it's

-Uzziah--Uzziah!" and she went to an open stairway leading from the

-kitchen.

-

-"What cher want?" came back, in an impatient tone.

-

-"You're wanted. Passenger for the station."

-

-A boy speedily appeared. 'Tilda Jane was not prepossessed in his

-favour as he came lumbering down the staircase, and she was still

-less so when he stood before her. He had his mother's sharp face,

-lean head, and cunning eyes, and he was so alarmingly dirty that she

-found herself wondering whether he had ever touched water to his face

-and hands since the winter began.

-

-"Go hitch up an' take this gal to the station," said his mother, in

-feeble command.

-

-He stood scrutinising 'Tilda Jane. "Who fur?"

-

-"Bob Lucas."

-

-"How much'll he gimme?"

-

-"I dunno. He'll pay when he comes out."

-

-"S'pose the warden ketches him?"

-

-"He ain't bin ketched yit."

-

-"He's goin' to--so they say at the post-office."

-

-"I've got fifty cents," said 'Tilda Jane, with dignity. "Here it is,"

-and she laid it on the table.

-

-The youthful fox snatched at it, and grinned at his mother as he

-pocketed it.

-

-"Say--that ain't fair," remarked 'Tilda Jane. "You ain't kerried me

-yet."

-

-"She's right," said the more mature fox. "Give it back, Uzzy."

-

-Uzziah unwillingly restored the coin to 'Tilda Jane.

-

-"Now go hitch up," said his mother.

-

-He sidled out of the room and disappeared, and Mrs. Folcutt's

-covetous eye wandered over 'Tilda Jane's wearing apparel. "Say,

-sissy, that's a pooty fair shawl you took off'n your dog. I always

-favour stripes."

-

-"So do I," replied 'Tilda Jane, and, with a premonition of what was

-coming, she turned her head and gazed out the window.

-

-"I guess you might as well square up with us," said the slatternly

-woman, seating herself near her caller and speaking in' persuasive

-accents, "and then you'll not hev to be beholden to Bob Lucas. It's

-jus' as well for a nice little gal like you to hev no dealin's with

-them Lucases."

-

-"That shawl ain't mine," said 'Tilda Jane, sharply.

-

-This statement did not seem worth challenging by the woman, for she

-went on in the same wheedling voice, "You'll not hev no call for it

-on the cars. I kin lend you somethin' for the dog to ride down in.

-It's too good for wrappin' him," and she gazed contemptuously at

-Gippie.

-

-'Tilda Jane drew in her wandering gaze from the window, and fixed it

-desperately on Poacher, who was lying under the stove winking sadly

-but amiably at her. Was no one perfect? Lucas hunted deer, this good

-dog helped him, his boys were naughty, this woman was a sloven and a

-kind of thief, her boy was a rogue, and she herself--'Tilda Jane was

-a little runaway girl. "You can have this tippet," she said, sternly.

-"That shawl's got to be sent back to where it comes from."

-

-"Oh, you stole it, did ye?" said the woman, with a sneer. "Well,

-I guess we kin hitch up for no thieves," and she got up and moved

-deliberately toward the door as if she would recall her son.

-

-'Tilda Jane's nimble fancy ran over possibilities. She had fallen

-among sharpers, she must be as sharp as they. Her offensive manner

-fell from her. "Look here," she said, bluntly, "I ain't got one

-mite o' money but that fifty-cent piece. If your boy'll drive me to

-Nicatoos right off, I'll give him that as I said, an' I'll send back

-the shawl by him. But if you don't want to do it, speak right up, an'

-I'll move on to the next house, and," she continued boldly as she saw

-consent on the cunning face, "you've got to give me somethin' to eat

-an' drink with it, 'cause I've got two dogs to take care of, an' I

-don't want to get to Ciscasset and tumble over from bein' fainty."

-

-Mrs. Folcutt's gray face became illumined by a silly smile. There was

-not a shawl like that in the settlement, and bustling to her feet,

-she stroked it and felt it with admiring fingers, until admonished by

-'Tilda Jane that time was passing, and if she was going to get her

-anything to eat she had better be quick about it.

-

-The little girl almost choked over the sloppy tea from the venerable

-teapot, the shady bread and butter, and the composite dish of

-preserves set before her, yet resolutely shutting her eyes she ate

-and drank, and forced Gippie to do the same. Poacher would touch

-nothing. "Don't ye know them huntin' dogs eats only once a day?" said

-Mrs. Folcutt, contemptuously.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XIII.

-

-AN ATTEMPTED TRICK.

-

-

-"How fur are we from Nicatoos?" inquired 'Tilda Jane of her

-charioteer one hour later.

-

-"A matter of a mile," he replied, beating his disengaged hand upon

-his knees. He was sulky and cold, and 'Tilda Jane averted her glance

-from him to his small brown nag, who was trotting along as cheerfully

-as if there were a reward at the end of the drive for him.

-

-He was a curious little horse. Surely there never before was one with

-such a heavy coat of hair. He looked like a wild animal, and with

-gladness of heart she noted his fat sides. The Folcutts might be mean

-and untidy, but they certainly were good to this faithful friend, and

-her mind went off in puzzled reflection.

-

-She was pursuing the same line of thought of an hour before. No one

-was perfect, yet no one was wholly bad. There was good in everybody

-and everything. Poacher was a bad dog in some respects, and she cast

-a glance at him as he came trotting sleek and thoughtful behind the

-sleigh, but what a noble character he was in other respects! Gippie

-was a crank, and she pressed closer the small animal beside her, but

-he had his good points, and he was certainly a great comfort to her.

-

-Her heart was much lighter now that she was drawing nearer to

-the train that was to take her to Ciscasset, and in raising her

-little, weary head gratefully to the sky, she noted in quick and

-acute appreciation an unusually beautiful sunset. The colours were

-subdued--the sky was as hard and as cold as steel, but how clear,

-how brilliantly clear and calm! She would have fine weather for her

-arrival in her new home.

-

-She was glad that she was not to stay here. She felt herself quite a

-travelled orphan now, and somewhat disdainfully classed this rough

-settlement as "back-woodsy." The houses were uninviting and far

-apart, the roads and yards were desolate. The men were in the woods,

-the women and children were inside huddling around the fires. Middle

-Marsden was a quiet place, but it had not seemed as much out of the

-world as this. She hoped Ciscasset would be cheerful. Her travels

-had given her a liking for meeting new faces, and for enjoying

-some slight excitement. Not as much as she had had during the last

-few days--no, not as much as that. It was too trying for her, and

-she smiled faintly as she called up her last vision of her little

-careworn face in the cracked looking-glass in the log cabin.

-

-"What's the matter?" she asked, abruptly.

-

-The sleigh had come to a sudden standstill, and the boy was holding

-the lines in dogged silence.

-

-"Why don't you drive on?" she asked.

-

-"Now you jus' looky here," he replied, in a rough and bullying tone.

-"I ain't a-goin' one step furder. I'm mos' froze, an' the station's

-right ahead. You foller yer nose a spell, an' you'll git thar. Gimme

-the shawl an' the fifty cents, an' git out."

-

-For one moment 'Tilda Jane sat in blank amazement. Then she looked

-from his dirty, obstinate face to the plump pony. The latter showed

-no signs of fatigue. He could go for miles yet. If he had made a

-plea for the harness, she would not have so much wondered, for it was

-patched and mended with rope in a dozen places.

-

-Then her blood slowly reached boiling-point. She had stood a good

-deal from these Folcutts. The shawl was worth five dollars. That she

-knew, for she remembered hearing the matron tell how much it had cost

-her. She had overpaid them for this drive, and she was not prepared

-to flounder on through the snow and perhaps miss her train.

-

-Her mind, fertile in resources, speedily hit upon something. She must

-get this bully out of the sleigh, and she fixed him with a glance

-more determined than his own. He had on a rough homespun suit of

-clothes, and a home-made cap to match it. This cap was pulled tightly

-over his ears, but it was not on tight enough to resist 'Tilda Jane's

-quick and angry fingers.

-

-Plucking it off, she threw it over a snake fence into a snow-bank,

-saying at the same time, "If you're goin' to turn me out, I'll turn

-you out first."

-

-The boy was furious, but the cold wind smote his head, and,

-postponing retaliation, he sprang first for his cap, shouting

-warningly, however, as he swung his leg over the fence, "I'll make

-you pay up for this, you--"

-

-'Tilda Jane neither heard nor cared for the offensive epithet applied

-to her. With feet firmly braced, both hands grasping the lines,

-Gippie beside her, and Poacher racing behind, she was sweeping down

-the road. She had never driven a horse before in her life, but she

-adored new experiences, and she had carefully watched every motion of

-the young lout beside her.

-

-He could scarcely believe his eyes. He gaped speechless for a few

-minutes, for the sound of the sleigh-bells had made him turn sharply

-as he was picking up his cap. Then he restored the covering to his

-head, ran to the fence, and bawled, helplessly, "Stop thar--stop!

-Stop!"

-

-'Tilda Jane was skimming gaily around a turn in the road toward the

-sunset. He thought he heard a jeering laugh from her, but he was

-mistaken. Having got what she wanted, she was going obliviously on

-her way. The boy had been an obstacle, and she had brushed him aside.

-

-[Illustration: "'STOP THAR--STOP! STOP!'"]

-

-With his slower brain he was forced to pause and deliberate. Had she

-stolen their rig? Stupid as he was, the conviction forced itself

-upon him that she had not. She could not take the rig on the train,

-anyway, and plucking up courage, and shivering in the cold that had

-seized upon him during his deliberations, he meditatively and angrily

-began to plod over the route that he had recommended to her.

-

-Three-quarters of an hour later, he drew into the station yard. The

-train had come and gone, and his eager eyes went to the pony tied

-safe and sound under the shed, with not only the lap-robe over his

-back, but also the striped shawl--the first and last time that he

-would have the pleasure of wearing it.

-

-At the sound of the bells when he turned the sleigh, the telegraph

-operator came to the station door. "Here's fifty cents for you, left

-by a black-eyed girl."

-

-Without a "thank you," the boy held out his hand.

-

-"I guess you don't like that black-eyed girl much," said the young

-man, teasingly.

-

-"She's a--" and the boy broke into an oath.

-

-"Shut up!" said the young man, with a darkening face. Then with some

-curiosity he went on, "What did she do to make you talk like that?"

-

-"Spilt me out," replied the boy, with another volley of bad language.

-

-"You young hound," said the man, witheringly, "if she spilt you

-out, I'll bet you deserved it. I'll not touch your dirty hand. If

-you want your money, go find it," and throwing the fifty cents in a

-snow-drift, he went back into the warm station and slammed the door

-behind him.

-

-Uzziah's troubles were not over, and he had still to learn that the

-way of the transgressor is a tiresome one. He fumbled desperately in

-the snow, for he wanted fifty cents above all things in the world

-just then, but he was destined not to find it; and at last, cold,

-weary, and yet with all his faults not inclined to wreak his wrath

-on the pony who stood patiently watching him, he threw himself into

-the sleigh and sped gloomily homeward. His mother had the shawl, but

-he had nothing for his trouble, for he counted as nothing and worse

-than nothing his experience of the maxim that one sly trick inspires

-another.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XIV.

-

-HOME, SWEET HOME.

-

-

-'Tilda Jane was in a quandary. She had boarded the train for

-Ciscasset, she sat up very straight and apparently very composed--her

-outward demeanour gave not a hint of the turmoil within. In reality

-she was full of trouble. She had not a cent of money in her pocket,

-and her new familiarity with the workings of the Maine Central

-Railway assured her that it did not carry passengers for nothing.

-

-What was she to do? She pulled the little tippet more closely around

-Gippie's shoulders. She had taken it from her own, for it was

-absolutely necessary for him to have another covering now that the

-shawl was gone. Perhaps he would be taken away from her. She had

-noticed that it was not a customary thing for people to travel with

-dogs. His head and tail were plainly visible--this tippet was not

-like the voluminous shawl.

-

-Lucas had not offered her money, and she had not liked to ask him for

-it. Perhaps he had not thought about it. Perhaps if he did think of

-it, he supposed that he was doing enough to get her to Nicatoos--and

-there was the conductor entering the other end of the car. She must

-do something, and deliberately rising from her seat, she slipped

-Gippie under her arm, and made her way out to the platform of the

-fast moving train.

-

-It was quite dark now. She gave one side glance at the white, silent

-country they were passing through, then stepped into the lighted car

-ahead.

-

-"This is a smoking-car, young girl," observed some one, haughtily.

-

-'Tilda Jane had dropped into the first seat she came to, which

-happened to be beside a very stout and very dignified gentleman who

-had a cigar in his mouth, and who was reading a newspaper.

-

-She looked round, saw that there were a number of men in the car--no

-women, no children, and that the atmosphere was a hazy blue.

-

-"Smoke don't bother me," she said, almost scornfully. What was a

-breath of smoke compared with her inward discomposure over her

-pecuniary difficulties?

-

-"I'm in a little trouble," she said, brusquely, "I ain't got money to

-buy a ticket."

-

-The gentleman gazed at her suspiciously. "I have no money for

-beggars," he said, and he turned his broad back squarely on her.

-

-'Tilda Jane, for one so obstinate, was strangely sensitive. With

-her face in a flame of colour, she rose. Had any one else heard the

-insult? No, not a man in the car was looking her way.

-

-"I'm a poor little girl," she breathed over the gentleman's

-substantial shoulder, "but I'm no beggar. I guess I work as hard as

-you do. I wanted you to lend me a dollar or so to be sent back in a

-letter, but I wouldn't take it now--no, not if you crawled after me

-on your hands an' knees like a dog holdin' it in your mouth," and

-precipitately leaving him, she sauntered down the aisle.

-

-The gentleman turned around, and with an amazed face gazed after

-her. Stay--there she was pausing by the seat in which was his son.

-Should he warn him against the youthful adventuress? No, he was old

-enough to take care of himself, and he settled back in his corner and

-devoted himself to his paper.

-

-The only person in the last seat in the car was a lad of seventeen

-or eighteen who was neither reading nor smoking, but lounging across

-it, while he suppressed innumerable yawns. He was very handsome, and

-he looked lazy and good-natured, and to him 'Tilda Jane accordingly

-addressed herself. She had hesitated, after the rebuff she had

-received, to apply to any of those other men with their resolved,

-middle-aged or elderly faces. This lad she was not at all afraid of,

-and resting Gippie on the arm of his seat, she stared admiringly at

-him.

-

-He straightened himself. Here was something interesting, and his

-yawns ceased.

-

-"Well, miss, what can I do for you?" he inquired, mischievously, as

-she continued to stare at him without speaking.

-

-He would lend her the money, she knew it before she asked him. There

-was something else in her mind now, and her little sharp eyes were

-full of tears.

-

-"Is anything the matter with you?" he asked, politely.

-

-She could not answer him for a few seconds, but then she swallowed

-the lump in her throat and ejaculated, "No, sir, only you are so

-pretty."

-

-"Pretty!" he repeated, in bewilderment.

-

-"Yes," she said in low, passionate, almost resentful tones, "you

-ain't got no 'casion for those blue eyes an' that yeller hair. I wish

-I could take 'em away from you. I'd 'a' been 'dopted if I had 'em. I

-wouldn't be standin' here."

-

-"Won't you sit down?" he asked, courteously, and with a flattered

-air. He was very young, and to have a strange child melt into tears

-at the sight of his handsome face was a compliment calculated to

-touch even an older heart than his.

-

-'Tilda Jane, with a heavy sigh, seated herself beside him. "I'm kind

-o' put out," she said, languidly, "you must s'cuse me."

-

-After her interest in him, he could do nothing less than murmur a

-civil inquiry as to the cause of her concern.

-

-"I've been tryin' to borrer money," she replied, "an' I was 'sulted."

-

-"To borrow money--then you are short of funds?"

-

-"Yes, sir," she said, calmly, "I'm a-travellin', but I ain't got no

-money to pay for me nor for this dog, an' his head an' tail shows

-this time, an' he'll be nabbed."

-

-"Where are you going?" asked the lad.

-

-"To Ciscasset, sir, if I ever get there. I'm beginnin' to think there

-ain't no such place."

-

-"I assure you there is, for I live in it myself."

-

-"Do you?" she ejaculated, with a flash of interest. "Do you know a

-man by the name of Hobart Dillson?"

-

-"Rather--he was my father's bookkeeper for years. We pension him

-now," he added, grandly, and with a wish to impress.

-

-'Tilda Jane was not impressed, for she did not know what a pension

-was.

-

-"What kind of a feller is he?" she asked, eagerly.

-

-"Oh, a sort of tiger--might be in a cage, you know, but we haven't

-got one big enough."

-

-"You mean he gets mad easy?"

-

-"Never gets un-mad. Always stays so. Is a regular joke, you know.

-Going to visit him?"

-

-"I'm goin' to be his housekeeper," said 'Tilda Jane, with dignity.

-

-The lad cast a rapid and amused glance over her small resolved

-figure, then taking his handkerchief from his pocket, turned his face

-to the window, and coughed vigorously.

-

-"I can fight, too," she added, after a pause, "but--" slowly, "I

-sha'n't fight him."

-

-The lad did not turn around except to throw her one gleam from the

-corner of a laughing eye, until she ejaculated uneasily, "There comes

-the conductor--are you a-goin' to lend me some money?"

-

-His face reappeared--quite sober now. "Well, young lady, I am not

-a capitalist, but I think I can raise you a loan. How much do you

-want--that is, where did you come on?"

-

-"I come on at Nicatoos, an' I've another dog in the baggage-car."

-

-"Travelling with two dogs," he murmured, "and short of funds. You

-have courage!"

-

-"I like some animiles better'n some people," observed 'Tilda Jane,

-sententiously.

-

-"Your sentiment does you credit," he replied, gravely, and as the

-conductor approached, he held out his hand. "I pay for this little

-girl and her dog in the baggage-car."

-

-"That's a fine hound you've got," the conductor observed, civilly, to

-'Tilda Jane.

-

-"Yes, sir," she replied, meekly. "I hope he ain't scared o' the

-train."

-

-"He don't like it much, but some of the boys have been playing with

-him. Why--" and he drew back in surprise, "you're the obstinate young

-one I pointed out to the inspector the other day. Here--you needn't

-pay," and he put in her hand the money her new friend had just given

-him. "There was a great racket about you. You needn't have run away

-from Vanceboro--if you'd spoken the truth, you'd saved yourself and

-us a lot of trouble. However, I guess they'll be glad to hear you're

-all right."

-

-"I'll be 'bliged if you'll give my respecks to Mr. Jack," she said,

-steadily.

-

-"I'll do it," said the conductor, "and tell him you've picked up

-another dog," and with a wink at her companion, he passed on.

-

-"Accep' my thanks," she said, after a time, handing the loose change

-in her lap to the lad.

-

-"Keep it," he replied, generously. "I don't want it."

-

-A grim flash like a streak of lightning passed over her dark face,

-and he added, hastily, "As a loan, of course. You may need money for

-your dogs. Old Hobart will begrudge them a bone, I assure you."

-

-She thanked him, and thoughtfully tied the money in a corner of her

-handkerchief.

-

-"Now if his son were home, he would be different. Hank is a rattling,

-good-natured sort of a fellow. No principle, you know, but not a

-tiger by any means."

-

-"I'll thank you, sir, to keep a stiff tongue when you're talkin'

-of Hank Dillson," observed 'Tilda Jane, severely. "He's done me

-favours, an' you'd better keep your tongue off his father, too. If

-you're dyin' to pitch into some one, pitch into that selfish ole tub

-a-readin' that big paper up there. He turned his back on me when I

-hinted round him for the loan of a dollar or so."

-

-"And I'll thank you to keep a stiff tongue when you speak of that

-gentleman," said the lad, smartly, "for he's my father."

-

-"Your father!" echoed 'Tilda Jane, in astonishment.

-

-"Yes, ma'am."

-

-"Did he once have blue eyes an' curly hair?"

-

-"I believe so. He's a good-looking man yet."

-

-"He's a--" began 'Tilda Jane, hurriedly, then she stopped short. "Law

-me--I'll never learn to forgive folks before the sun goes down; I'm

-gettin' wickeder an' wickeder. What's your name, sir? I'll want to

-send you this money soon's I earn some."

-

-"My name is Datus Waysmith, and my father is the biggest lumber

-merchant on the Ciscasset River."

-

-"Is he?" she said, wistfully, "an' have you got more family?"

-

-"Yes, I have a mother as pretty as a picture, and three sisters."

-

-"An' you have a nice room with a fire that ain't boxed up, an' you

-sit round, an' no other folks come in, an' no bells ring for you to

-get up and do somethin'?"

-

-"We have loads of rooms in our house," said the lad, boastfully.

-"It's the biggest one in Ciscasset. You'll soon find out where we

-live. Here we are most in--Iceboro next, then home," and he flattened

-his face against the glass.

-

-Outside in the dark night, bright lights appeared, danced over the

-snowy country, then disappeared. The train was running through the

-outskirts of a prosperous town.

-

-"Is Ciscasset a nice place?" asked 'Tilda Jane, wistfully.

-

-"Slowest old place that ever was. I'd like to live in Bangor or

-Portland. There's something going on there. We've nothing but a

-river, and mills, and trees, and hills--not a decent theatre in the

-place."

-

-'Tilda Jane did not know what a theatre was, and discreetly held her

-peace.

-

-"I say--here we are!" exclaimed the boy. "I hope mamma will have a

-good supper."

-

-A shadow overspread 'Tilda Jane's face, and seeing it, the boy said,

-impulsively, "Stop here a minute--I want to speak to papa," and he

-rushed away.

-

-The little girl sat still. They were going more slowly now, and all

-the men in the car were standing up, putting on coats and warm caps.

-She had no wrap, but her dress was thick, and hugging Gippie closer,

-she felt that she should not suffer from the cold.

-

-The boy was making an animated appeal to his father, who was asking

-him short, quick questions. At last he gave him a brief, "Very well!"

-and the boy ran back to 'Tilda Jane.

-

-"Papa says you can ride with us. I told him you had no one to meet

-you, and it would be cold comfort wandering about alone to find your

-way. He used to think a lot of Dillson, but you'd better not talk to

-him."

-

-'Tilda Jane trailed slowly after her guide through the crowd of

-people leaving the train, and passing through the lighted stone

-station to the yard outside. Here were drawn up a number of sleighs.

-The boy led her to the handsomest one.

-

-"Jump up on the box with Jenks," he said in a whisper. "Curl down

-under the rug, and I'll bring dog number two. He'll run behind, won't

-he?"

-

-"I guess so," replied 'Tilda Jane, with an equally mysterious

-whisper, and she slipped down under the soft bearskin robe.

-

-In two minutes the boy came back, leading Poacher by a small rope.

-"I'll just tie him behind," he said, "to make sure. He's all

-right--and here's papa."

-

-He stood aside, while his dignified parent got into the sleigh.

-'Tilda Jane, from her high seat, looked around once. The lumber

-merchant and his son were down in a black valley of soft, smothering

-furs, Poacher was running agreeably behind, and Gippie was snug and

-warm in her lap.

-

-No one spoke during the drive, and they glided swiftly through the

-snowy town. 'Tilda Jane had a confused vision of lighted shops

-with frosty windows, of houses with more sober illuminations, then

-suddenly they were stealing along the brink of a long and narrow

-snow-filled hollow. This was the Ciscasset River, still held by its

-winter covering. She thought she heard a murmur of "rotten ice"

-behind her as the lumber merchant addressed his son, and she was

-enough a child of the State to know that a reference to the breaking

-up of the ice in the river was intended.

-

-Presently they dashed up a long avenue of leafless, hardwood trees to

-a big house on the hill. A hall door was thrown open, and within was

-a glimpse of paradise for the homeless orphan. Softly tinted lights

-in the background illuminated and made angelically beautiful the

-white dresses and glowing faces of a lady and three little girls who

-stood on the threshold with outstretched arms.

-

-The father and son welcomed to these embraces had forgotten 'Tilda

-Jane, and as the sleigh slowly turned and went down the cold avenue,

-tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

-

-"Where am I to take you?" suddenly asked the solemn coachman beside

-her.

-

-"To Hobart Dillson's," she said, in a choking voice.

-

-Nothing more was said, she saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing

-of her immediate surroundings. She had once been taken to a circus,

-and the picture now before her mind was that of a tiger pacing back

-and forth in his cage, growling in a low monotonous tone, always

-growling, growling at a miserable child shrinking outside.

-

-"That there is Dillson's cottage, I think," said the coachman at last.

-

-'Tilda Jane roused herself. Through her blurred vision a small house

-wavered at the end of a snowy path. She wiped her eyes hastily,

-thanked the man, and, slipping from her high seat, ran behind the

-sleigh and untied Poacher.

-

-The man turned his sleigh and glided slowly out of sight. She stood

-watching him till he disappeared, then, followed by her two dogs went

-reluctantly up the path.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XV.

-

-THE FRENCH FAMILY.

-

-

-'Tilda Jane stood entranced. This was not the Dillson cottage, the

-coachman had made a mistake. She stood staring in the window, for

-this was a sight that pleased her above all other sights.

-

-Here was another family,--a happy family, evidently, all gathered

-around a cheerful fire in a good-sized living-room. There were an

-old grandfather in the corner smoking a pipe, an old woman beside

-him with a white cap on her head, a middle-aged man cleaning a gun

-by the light of a lamp on the table, a middle-aged woman knitting

-a stocking, and a cluster of children of all ages about the

-grandfather, grandmother, father and mother.

-

-Mingled with the crackling of the open fire was a very gay clatter of

-tongues speaking in some foreign language, and one boy's voice soared

-above the rest in the words of a song that 'Tilda Jane was afterward

-to learn:

-

-      "_Un Canadien errant_,

-      _Bannis de son pays_,

-      _Parconrait en pleurant_,

-      _Un pays étranger._"

-

-She gazed at them until the sense of increasing cold checked her

-rapture, and made her move regretfully toward the door and rap on it.

-

-It was immediately opened by a brown-eyed child, and held far back as

-if she were expected to enter.

-

-"Can you tell me where Mr. Hobart Dillson lives?"

-

-"_Ou-ay, ma'mzelle_," murmured the child, bashfully hanging her head.

-

-"But enter--it is cold," called the mother, rising and coming

-forward, stocking in hand.

-

-'Tilda Jane felt drawn toward this alluring family circle, and one

-minute later was sitting in a chair on its circumference.

-

-"But come in, dawgie," said the mother gently to Poacher, who stood

-hesitating on the threshold.

-

-He came in, and was greeted silently and politely by two respectable

-curs that rose from the hearth-stone for the purpose, then he lay

-down beside them, and gratefully extended his limbs to the fire.

-

-'Tilda Jane sat for a minute looking about her without speaking.

-These people were not staring at her, but they were all stealing

-occasional curious glances in her direction.

-

-"I'm lookin' for Hobart Dillson's," she said, bluntly, "but I guess

-there ain't no such person, for the nearer I get the more he seems to

-run off."

-

-The mother of the family smiled, and 'Tilda Jane gazed in admiration

-at the soft black eyes under the firm brows. "I can tell you,

-_mademoiselle_--he is near by, even nex' doah."

-

-"Oh!" murmured 'Tilda Jane, then she fell into meditation. These

-people were foreigners, poor, too, evidently, though perfectly neat

-and clean. She wondered how they got into the country.

-

-"You air emigrants?" she said, at last, inquiringly.

-

-"French," said the woman, "'Cajien French--sent from our country long

-ago. Our people went back. We returned to earn a little money. Too

-many people where we lived."

-

-"Did you come through Vanceboro?" asked 'Tilda Jane.

-

-The woman's liquid eyes appealed to her husband. He shrugged his

-shoulders, looked down the barrel of his gun, and said, "It is a long

-time ago we come. I do not know."

-

-"Mebbe they weren't so partickler," observed 'Tilda Jane.

-

-"Let um do!" came in a sepulchral voice from the fireplace.

-

-'Tilda Jane stared at the old grandfather, who had taken his pipe

-from his mouth to utter the phrase, and was now putting it back.

-

-The house-mother addressed her. "Do not fear, _mademoiselle_; it

-is the only English he knows. He means 'all right, do not anxious

-yourself, be calm, very calm.'"

-

-"Does he?" murmured 'Tilda Jane; then she added, unwillingly, "I must

-be going."

-

-"Delay youself yet a leetle," urged the woman, and her pitying eyes

-ran over the girl's drooping figure. "The children go to make corn

-hot. Marie--" and a stream of foreign syllables trickled and gurgled

-from her lips, delighting and fascinating her caller.

-

-A little maid danced from the fireplace to one of the tiny

-pigeon-hole rooms opening from the large one, and presently came back

-with a bag of corn and a popper.

-

-"And a glass of milk for _mademoiselle_," said the woman to another

-child.

-

-'Tilda Jane was presently sipping her milk, eating a piece of dark

-brown bread, and gazing dreamily at the fire. Why could she not

-linger in this pleasant home.

-

-"You know Mr. Dillson?" she said, rousing herself with an effort, and

-turning to her hostess.

-

-"But yes--we have lived nex' him for so many yeahs."

-

-"Do you think I can keep house for him?" asked 'Tilda Jane, wistfully.

-

-[Illustration: "'YOU ARE YOUNG FOR THAT, _MADEMOISELLE_, YET--'"]

-

-The woman hesitated, laid her knitting on her lap, and thoughtfully

-smoothed her tweed dress. "You are young for that, _mademoiselle_,

-yet--" and she scrutinised 'Tilda Jane's dark, composed, almost

-severe face--"if a girl could do it, I should think yes--you can. He

-is seeck, poor man. He walks not well at all. It makes him--"

-

-"Like the evil one," muttered her husband, clutching his gun more

-tightly; "if he was a crow, I would shoot."

-

-"Let um do!" came in guttural tones from grandfather's corner.

-

-The woman laughed merrily, and all anxiety faded from her face. "Hark

-to _gran'père_--it makes me feel good, so good. No one can make us

-feel bad if we feel not bad ourselves. Deelson is seeck. He is not

-hap-py. Let us not be seeck, too. Let us be hap-py. _Allons mes

-enfants, est-ce que le_--" and then followed more smooth syllables

-that 'Tilda Jane did not understand.

-

-She soon saw, however, that an order had been given to butter and

-salt the corn, and presently she was shyly but sweetly offered some

-by the French children. Even Poacher and Gippie had some kernels laid

-before them, and in the midst of her concern as to Mr. Dillson's

-behaviour, her heart swelled with gratitude to think that she should

-have such good neighbours. Here all was gentleness and peace. She

-had never seen so kind a woman, such amiable children. Did they ever

-quarrel and slap each other, she wondered.

-

-"It's getting late, ain't it?" she exclaimed at last, with

-uneasiness. "I must go," and she rose quickly.

-

-"But you can stay all night if you desiah," said the woman, motioning

-toward the pigeon-holes. "Stay, and go nex' doah in the morning."

-

-"No, no, I must not," said 'Tilda Jane very hastily, through fear

-that she might yield to so pleasant a temptation. "But can I drop in

-an' see you by spells?"

-

-"But yes, yes--certainly, come often," said the woman. "Come at any

-hour," she said under her breath, and seizing 'Tilda Jane's hand in

-her own, "if it is not agreeable there, at any time run here."

-

-"I'm 'bliged to you," said Tilda Jane, gratefully, "much 'bliged, an'

-if you want any floors scrubbed, or anythin' done, jus' you run over

-an' get me. I'll come--" and with a sturdy nod of her head, she took

-her dogs, and slipped out into the darkness.

-

-"If agreeable leave your dogs here till mornin'," called the woman

-after her.

-

-The little girl shook her head. "I guess he'd better see 'em right

-off. Good-night, an' thank you."

-

-The woman clasped her hands, and, looking up at the sky before she

-went into the house, murmured in her own language, "Holy One, guard

-her from that terrible rage!"

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XVI.

-

-THE TIGER IN HIS LAIR.

-

-

-The next house to that of the French people was larger and more

-pretentious than theirs. It had more of a garden, there were two

-stories instead of one, and the roof was surmounted by a tiny tower.

-

-The outside of the tiger's den was highly satisfactory, and 'Tilda

-Jane smiled in weary stoical humour. Now to find the particular

-corner in which the tiger himself abode. The house was dark, except

-for one feeble glimmer of light on the ground floor. She had rapped

-at the front door, she had rapped at the back door without getting

-any response, and now she returned to the latter to see if perchance

-it had been left unfastened.

-

-It had, and lifting the latch cautiously, she went in. She knew Mr.

-Dillson was an old man, she knew he was lame, and possibly he heard

-her, but could not come to her rescue. Passing through a small porch

-where she stumbled against some heaped up pans, she turned the first

-door-knob she touched in passing her hand around the dark wall.

-

-She found herself in a kitchen. The table in the middle of the floor,

-the chairs, the dresser, were all illumined by a feeble, dying glow

-in a small cooking stove, and by the beams of a candle struggling

-through an open door.

-

-Poacher and Gippie crept after her as she proceeded slowly in

-the direction of this light. They felt that there was something

-mysterious afoot.

-

-'Tilda Jane paused at the bedroom door. Here was the lair of the

-tiger, and there was the tiger himself,--an old man with white hair,

-red eyes, and a night-cap. A candle was on a shelf by the head of the

-bed, and a pair of crutches was within reaching distance, and the old

-man was lifting his head from the pillow in astonishment.

-

-'Tilda Jane could not help laughing aloud in her relief. This was not

-a very dangerous looking person. He seemed more amazed than vexed,

-and she laughed again as she noted his clutch of the bed-clothes, and

-the queer poise of his white head.

-

-"'Scuse me, sir," she said, humbly, "for comin' this time o' night,

-but I thought you'd like me to report first thing. I hope you've

-heard from your son I was comin'?"

-

-The old man said nothing. He was still open-mouthed and dumb, but

-something in his face assured 'Tilda Jane that he had heard--he had

-received some news of her, apart from the telegram sent by Mr. Jack.

-

-"I've had lots o' speriences," she said, with a tired gesture. "I'll

-tell 'em some other time. I jus' wanted to 'nounce my 'rival, an'

-tell you I'm goin' to wait on you good--I guess I'll go to bed, if

-you'll tell me where to get a candle, an' where I'm to sleep."

-

-He would tell her nothing. He simply lay and glared at her, and by no

-means disposed to seek a quarrel with him, she made her way back to

-the kitchen, opened the stove door, and, lighting a piece of paper,

-searched the room until she found the closet where the candles were

-kept.

-

-The old man lay motionless in his bed. He heard her searching, heard

-the dogs pattering after her, and a violent perspiration broke

-out upon him. Wrath sometimes gave him unwonted fluency of speech.

-To-night it rendered him speechless. He did not wish this beggar's

-brat to wait on him. Hank had not asked his permission to send

-her--had simply announced that she was coming. He was treated as

-if he were a baby--an idiot, and this was his own house. Hank had

-nothing to do with it. He didn't care if Hank did pay her. He had

-money enough of his own to hire a housekeeper. But he didn't want

-one. He wanted to wait on himself. He hated to have women cluttering

-round, and he lay, and perspired, and inwardly raged, and obtained

-not one wink of sleep, while 'Tilda Jane, having obtained what she

-wished, peacefully composed herself to rest.

-

-First though, she calmly bade him "Good-night," told him to "holler,"

-if he wanted anything, and, calling her dogs, went off in search of a

-bed for herself.

-

-Beyond the kitchen was a front hall,--cold, dusty, and comfortless.

-Up-stairs were four rooms, two unfurnished, one having something the

-appearance of a spare room left long unoccupied, the other smelling

-of tobacco, exceedingly untidy, littered with old clothes, fishing

-rods, bats, cartridge shells, and other boyish and manly belongings.

-This must be Hank's room, probably it had been occupied later than

-the other, and the bed would not be so damp. She would sleep here,

-and she turned down the clothes.

-

-"Good land!" she murmured, "I wonder how long sence those blankets

-has been washed?" and she turned them back again, and, going to the

-other room, obtained two coverlets that she spread over herself,

-after she lay down on the outside of the bed.

-

-The dogs had already curled themselves up on a heap of clothes on the

-floor, and in a few minutes the three worn-out travellers were fast

-asleep.

-

-When 'Tilda Jane lifted her head from her very shady pillow the next

-morning, her ears were saluted by the gentle patter of rain. The

-atmosphere was milder--a thaw had set in.

-

-She sprang up, and went to the dogs, who were still snoring in their

-corner. "Wake up," she said, touching them with her foot. Gippie

-started, but something in the expression of Poacher's eloquent eyes

-told her that, although he had been apparently sound asleep, he knew

-perfectly well what was going on about him.

-

-"Let's go and see Mr. Dillson," she exclaimed, and picking up Gippie,

-she ran down-stairs with Poacher at her heels.

-

-"It ain't cold--it's just pleasant," she muttered, turning the key

-with difficulty in the front door, and throwing it open.

-

-"Oh, my, how pretty!" and she clasped her hands in delight. Across

-the road was the deep hollow of the river. She was in one of a line

-of cottages following its bank, and across the river were fields and

-hills, now a soft, hazy picture in the rain. But the sun would shine,

-fine days would come--what an ideal place for a home! and her heart

-swelled with thankfulness, and she forgot the cross old man in the

-room behind her.

-

-The cross old man would have given the world to have turned her out

-of his house at that very minute, but his night of sleeplessness and

-raging temper had given him a fierce headache, a bad taste in his

-mouth, and such a helplessness of limbs that he could not turn in bed.

-

-'Tilda Jane fortunately did not know that if he could have commanded

-his tongue he would have ordered her into the street, but she saw

-that there was something wrong with him, and as she stood in his

-doorway, she said, pityingly, "I guess you're sick; I'll make you

-some breakfast," and she vanished in the direction of the wood-shed.

-

-He heard her chopping sticks, he heard the brisk snapping of the fire

-and the singing of the teakettle. He heard her breaking eggs--two

-eggs when he never cooked more than one at a time! He opened his

-mouth to protest, but only gave utterance to a low roar that brought

-Poacher, who happened to be the only one in the kitchen, into his

-room to stare gravely and curiously at him.

-

-She made an omelet, she toasted bread, she steeped him a cup of

-tea--this slip of a girl. She had evidently been taught to cook, but

-he hated her none the less as she brought in a tray and set it beside

-his bed.

-

-He would not touch the food, and he gave her a look from his angry

-eyes that sent her speedily from the room, and made her close the

-door behind her.

-

-"I guess he'd like to gimme a crack with them crutches," she

-reflected, soberly, "I'd better keep out of his way till he's over

-it. Reminds me o' the matron's little spells."

-

-If she had been a petted darling from some loving home, she would

-have fled from the cottage in dismay. As it was, although she

-suffered, it was not with the keenness of despair. All her life she

-had been on the defensive. Some one had always found fault with her,

-some one was always ready to punish her. Unstinted kindness would

-have melted her, but anger always increased her natural obstinacy.

-She had been sent here to take care of this old man, and she was

-going to do it. She was too unconventional, and too ignorant, to

-reflect that her protective attitude would have been better changed

-for a suppliant one in entering the old man's domain.

-

-However, if she had meekly begged the privilege of taking care of

-him, he would have sent her away, and as she was given neither

-to hair-splitting nor introspection, but rather to the practical

-concerns of life, she calmly proceeded with her task of tidying the

-house without reference to future possibilities.

-

-The kitchen was the first place to be attacked, and she carefully

-examined the stove. It smoked a little. It needed cleaning, and

-girding on some old aprons she found in the porch, she let the fire

-go out, and then brushed, and rubbed, and poked at the stove until

-it was almost as clean outside as it was inside. Her next proceeding

-was to take everything off the walls, and wipe them down with a

-cloth-bedraped broom. Then she moved all the dishes off the dresser,

-washed the chairs, and scrubbed the floor.

-

-Then, and not until then, did she reopen the door into the old man's

-room. Now he could see what a clean kitchen she had, and how merrily

-the fire was burning in the stove. It was also twelve o'clock, and

-she must look about for something more to eat.

-

-Mr. Dillson had not touched his breakfast, so she ate it herself,

-made him fresh toast, a cup of tea, and a tiny meat hash, then went

-up-stairs to tidy her bedroom.

-

-The hash was well-seasoned, and the odour of onions greeted the old

-man's nostrils tantalisingly. He was really hungry now. His wrath had

-burned down for lack of fuel, and some power had come back to his

-limbs. He ate his dinner, got out of bed, dressed himself, and limped

-out to the kitchen.

-

-When he had dropped in his big rocking-chair, he gazed around the

-room. The girl had done more in one morning than all the women he had

-ever employed had done in three. Perhaps it would be economy to keep

-her. He was certainly growing more feeble, and a tear of self-pity

-stood in his eye.

-

-There she was now, coming from the French-woman's house. She had been

-over there to borrow sheets, and a flash of impotent rage swept over

-him. He tried to have no dealings with those foreigners. He hated

-them, and they hated him. This girl must go, he could not stand her.

-

-The back of his rocking-chair was padded, and before he realised what

-was happening, his state of fuming passed into one of sleepiness,--he

-was off, soundly and unmistakably announcing in plain terms, through

-throat and nose, to the world of the kitchen, that he was making up

-for time lost last night.

-

-When he opened his eyes, it was late afternoon, and 'Tilda Jane,

-sitting at a safe distance from him, was knitting an unfinished sock

-of his, left by his dead wife some ten years ago.

-

-He blinked at her in non-committal silence. She gave him one shrewd

-glance, with her toe pushed Gippie's recumbent body nearer her own

-chair, and went on with her work. If he wanted to hear her talk, he

-could ask questions.

-

-The afternoon wore away and evening came. When it grew quite dark

-'Tilda Jane got up, lighted a lamp, put on the teakettle, and with

-the slender materials at hand prepared a meal that she set before the

-uncommunicative old man.

-

-He ate it, rolling his eyes around the clean kitchen meanwhile, but

-not saying a word.

-

-'Tilda Jane kept at a safe distance from him until he had finished

-and had limped into bed. She then approached the table and ate a few

-morsels herself, muttering as she did so, "I ain't hungry, but I

-mus' eat enough to help me square up to that poor ole crossy."

-

-She was, however, too tired to enjoy her supper, and soon leaving it,

-she washed her dishes and went up-stairs.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XVII.

-

-THE TIGER MAKES A SPRING.

-

-

-The situation would have been absurd if it had not been painful. The

-next morning the old man was still in the same mood, angry at the

-girl's invasion of his premises, and yet so appreciative of the value

-of her energetic ways that he did not insist on her departure. And so

-day after day, for a whole week, 'Tilda Jane lived on, keeping house

-for the old man, but saying not one word to him.

-

-He would not speak to her, and she would not begin a conversation

-with him. She prepared his meals from food that the storekeeper and

-butcher readily gave her on the old man's account, and exercised her

-tongue by talking to her dogs.

-

-Occasionally she called on her French neighbours, the Melançons, and

-from them gleaned various items of information about the eccentric

-Mr. Dillson, without, however, allowing them to know that he would

-not speak to her. This secret she proudly kept to herself. She found

-out from them that the old man was ordinarily in better health than

-at present,--that he was usually able to hobble about the house and

-wait on himself, for his temper had of late become so violent that no

-woman in Ciscasset would enter his house to work for him. Therefore,

-'Tilda Jane's arrival had been most opportune, for he would have been

-in danger of starving to death if left to himself.

-

-Feeling persuaded of this, and greatly pleased to think that she had

-been and was of service to the father of her benefactor Hank, her

-attitude toward the old man continued to be one of philosophical

-and good-natured obstinacy. She would not speak to him, but she was

-willing to wait on him in silence, looking forward to the time when

-he would find his tongue.

-

-Her only fear of his sullenness was on behalf of her dogs. He hated

-them--she knew it by the menacing tremble of his crutches whenever

-the animals came within his reach. Therefore, her constant endeavour

-was to keep them out of his way. She had made two soft, persuasive

-beds in the wood-shed for them; but it was cold there, and she could

-not stay with them. They loved her with all the strength of their

-doggish hearts, and wished to be with her every minute of the time.

-

-Often at night she would start up in bed from troubled dreams of

-a fierce old figure mounting the staircase, crutch in hand. There

-was no lock on her bedroom door, and if the old man had a sudden

-accession of strength, he could easily push aside the barrier of a

-wash-stand and two chairs that she put across this door before she

-went to bed.

-

-She wished that Hank would come home. He might persuade his peculiar

-parent to end this unnatural silence, and give her a chance to become

-acquainted with him.

-

-"Mebbe he'll soon come, Poacher," she whispered in the ear of the dog

-who was sitting close beside her. "We'll make up our minds for that,

-won't we?"

-

-The dog was sitting up very straight beside her, and gazing

-benevolently down at Gippie, who lay on her lap. They were all out

-on the front door-step, and 'Tilda Jane was knitting industriously.

-It was a day like May in the month of March--there was a soft, mild

-air and a warm sun that made dripping eaves and melting snow-banks.

-Little streams of water were running from the garden to the road, and

-from the road to the hollow of the river, where large cakes of ice

-were slowly loosening themselves, breaking up and floating toward the

-sea. Spring was coming, and 'Tilda Jane, despite the incorrigible

-sulkiness of the person with whom she was living, felt it good to

-have a home.

-

-"We'll have lots o' sport by an' by runnin' in the fields, Poacher,"

-she whispered, lovingly, in his ear, "you ole comfort--always so

-sweet, an' good, an' never sassing back. You jus' creep away when you

-see some one comin' and don't say a word, do you? You're a sample to

-me; I wish I was like you. An' you never want to be bad, do you, an'

-chase back to the woods?"

-

-The dog abandoned his stately attitude, and gave his tongue a quick

-fillip in the direction of her forehead. No--thanks to her intense

-devotion to him, he had no time for mournful reflections on the past.

-

-"But I guess you'd like to see your master sometimes," she murmured.

-"I see a hankerin' in your eyes now an' agin, ole feller, an' then I

-jus' talk to you hard. You darlin'!" and throwing her arm around his

-neck, she squeezed him heartily.

-

-He was boldly reciprocating, by licking her little, straight,

-determined nose, when there was a clicking sound around the corner of

-the house.

-

-'Tilda Jane released him and raised her head. The old man was

-approaching, leaning heavily on his crutches. The beauty of the day

-had penetrated and animated even his ancient bones. 'Tilda Jane

-was delighted to see him moving about, but, giving no sign of her

-satisfaction, she rose and prepared to enter the house. He did not

-approve of having the front door unlocked, he did not approve of her

-habit of dodging out-of-doors whenever she had no work to do inside.

-She felt this, although he had never said it, and pushing Gippie into

-the hall, she stepped down the walk to pick up her ball of yarn.

-

-The dog's enemy was some distance away, and seeing him leaning so

-heavily on his crutches, it did not occur to her that there could be

-any fear of danger. However, with all her acuteness, she did not

-measure the depth of his animosity, nor the agility with which it

-could inspire him.

-

-With a deftness and lightness that would have been admirable if it

-had not been cruel, the old man bore all his weight on one crutch,

-swung the other around in the air, and with the heavy end struck a

-swift, sure blow on Poacher's glossy black forehead.

-

-It was all done in the twinkling of an eye--in the short space of

-time that the little girl's back was turned. She heard the crashing

-blow, flashed around, and saw the black body of the dog extended on

-a white snow-bank. His eyes were open, his expression was still the

-loving one with which he had been regarding her as she stooped to

-pick up the ball.

-

-For an instant 'Tilda Jane felt no emotion but wonder. She stood

-stock-still, staring alternately at the old man and at the motionless

-body of the dog. It had occurred to her that he would kill one of

-her pets if he had a chance, but now that he had done it, the thing

-seemed unreal, almost absurd. Surely she was dreaming--that was not

-Poacher lying there dead.

-

-She went up to the dog, touched him with soft, amazed fingers, lifted

-the velvet ears, and put her hands on his forehead. There was the

-slightest ruffling of the smooth skin where the crutch had struck him.

-

-The old man stood and watched her for a few seconds, his face a

-trifle redder than usual, but giving no other sign of emotion. He

-watched her until she lifted her head and looked at him, then he

-turned hastily and limped to the back door.

-

-It was an awful look to see on the face of a child,--an avenging,

-unforgiving, hateful look,--the look of a grown person in cold,

-profound wrath. He did not regret killing the dog, he would like to

-dispose of the other one, but he did object to those murderous eyes.

-She was capable of killing him. He must get rid of her, and make his

-peace with some of the Ciscasset witches, in order that they might

-come and wait on him.

-

-He went thoughtfully into the house and sat down in his usual corner

-beyond the kitchen stove. He wondered whether she would give him

-any supper. He could get it himself to-night if she did not. He was

-certainly better, and a glow of pleasure made his blood feel warm in

-his veins.

-

-Stay--there she was, coming slowly in--he thanked his lucky stars,

-looking very much the same as usual. He would not be slain in his

-bed that night. And she was getting fresh wood for the fire. Perhaps

-she would make hot cakes for supper. She was wonderfully smart for a

-girl. He had several times speculated as to her age. Sometimes when

-talking to the dogs she seemed no more than eleven or twelve years

-old. Ordinarily she appeared to him about fifteen, but small for

-the age. To-day in her wrath, she might be taken for seventeen. How

-subdued she seemed as she moved about the kitchen. He had done a good

-thing to strike down one of those animals. She would not have such an

-independent air now.

-

-She built up the fire, set the teakettle on the back of the stove--he

-wondered why she did not put it on the front, and why she gradually

-piled on sticks of wood until there was a roaring blaze that caused

-him some slight uneasiness. Was she going to set the chimney on fire?

-

-No, she was not; when there was a bed of fiery red coals, she took

-up her tiny padded holder, lifted off one of the stove covers, then,

-to his surprise, went into the corner behind him, where he kept his

-crutches.

-

-What was she going to do? and he uneasily turned his head.

-

-She had both his crutches in her hand--his polished wooden crutches

-with the gold plate inscription. Years ago, when he resigned his

-position as bookkeeper at Waysmith and Son's big mill, a gold-headed

-cane had been presented to him, on which was engraved a flattering

-inscription. Nothing that had ever been given to him in his life had

-tickled his vanity as this present from the rich and prosperous firm

-had done.

-

-When he had been obliged to put away the cane on account of his

-increasing bodily infirmities, he had had the gold plate inscription

-transferred to his crutches where he could see it all the time,

-and have others see it. Now--what was she going to do with those

-crutches?

-

-[Illustration: "HE LIFTED UP HIS VOICE AND ROARED AT HER."]

-

-He opened his mouth, and for the first time addressed her. "Put those

-crutches down."

-

-She paid less attention to him than she did to the crackling of the

-fire. Walking behind his chair, and making a wide circle to avoid his

-outstretched arms, she went to the other side of the stove and--

-

-He lifted up his voice and roared at her. She was sticking the legs

-of his crutches down in that fiery furnace.

-

-He roared again, but she did not even raise her head. She was holding

-the crutches down, stuffing them in, burning them off inch by

-inch--very quietly, very deliberately, but very surely. She was not

-thinking of him, she was thinking of the dead dog out on the snow.

-

-He kept quiet for a few seconds, then he began to bellow for mercy.

-She was burning up to the cross-bar handles, she would soon reach

-that gold-plate inscription, and now for the first time he knew what

-those eulogistic words were to him--he, a man who had had the temper

-of a maniac that had cut him off from the sympathy of every human

-being he knew.

-

-Tears ran down his cheeks--in incoherent words he stammered an

-apology for killing her dog, and then she relented.

-

-Throwing the charred and smoking tops to him, she shut up the stove,

-took her hat and tippet from a peg in the wall, and clasping Gippie

-to her, left the house without one glance at the old man as he sat in

-the smoky atmosphere mumbling to himself, and fumbling over the burnt

-pieces of wood as tenderly as if they had been babies.

-

-She had conquered him, but without caring for her conquest she left

-him.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XVIII.

-

-IN SEARCH OF A PERFECT MAN.

-

-

-Ciscasset, perhaps most beautiful of Maine towns near the Canadian

-border, was particularly beautiful on the morning after 'Tilda Jane's

-departure from Hobart Dillson's cottage. The sun was still shining

-fervently--so fervently that men threw open their top-coats or

-carried them on their arms; the sky was still of the delicate pink

-and blue haze of the day before, the wind was a breath of spring

-blown at departing winter.

-

-It was still early, and beautiful Ciscasset was not yet really astir.

-Few women were to be seen on the streets,--only a score of shop-girls

-hurrying to their work,--but men abounded. Clerks were going to their

-desks and counters, and early rising business men to their offices.

-Market-men swarmed in from the country in order to be the first to

-sell their produce in the prosperous little town with the Indian

-name.

-

-Other towns and villages might direct their search across the sea

-for European titles for streets and homes. Ciscasset prided itself

-on being American and original. The Indian names were native to the

-State, and with scarcely an exception prevailed in the nomenclature

-of the town. Therefore the--in other places Main Street--was here

-Kennebago Street, and down this street a group of farmers was

-slowly proceeding. They had sold their farm produce to grocers and

-stable-keepers, and were now going to the post-office for their mail.

-

-Assembled a few moments later in a corner of the gray stone building,

-and diligently reading letters and papers, they did not see a small

-figure approaching, and only looked up when a grave voice inquired,

-"Air you too busy to speak to me a minute?"

-

-The men all stared at the young girl with the dog in her arms, the

-heavy circles around her eyes, and the two red spots on her cheeks.

-

-"What do you want?" asked the oldest farmer, a gray-haired man in a

-rabbit-skin cap.

-

-"I want to find the best minister in this place."

-

-A smile went around the circle of farmers. They were all amused,

-except the gray-haired one. He was nearest to 'Tilda Jane, and felt

-the intense gravity of her manner.

-

-"In the town, I mean," she went on, wearily. "I want to ask him

-something. I thought they'd know in the post-office, but when I asked

-behind them boxes," and she nodded toward the wall near them, "they

-told me to get out--they was busy."

-

-The old farmer was silent for a moment. Then he said, gruffly, "You

-look beat out, young girl, like as if you'd been out all night."

-

-"I was," she said, simply, "I've been pacin' the streets waitin' for

-the mornin'."

-

-The attitude of the younger men was half reproachful, half disturbed.

-They always brought with them to the town an uneasy consciousness

-that they might in some way be fooled, and 'Tilda Jane's air was

-very precocious, very citified, compared with their air of rustic

-coltishness. They did not dream that she was country-bred like

-themselves.

-

-The older man was thinking. He was nearer the red spots and the

-grieving eyes than the others. The child was in trouble.

-

-"Bill," he said, slowly, "what's the name o' that man that holds

-forth in Molunkus Street Church?"

-

-His son informed him that he did not know.

-

-"How d'ye do, Mr. Price," said the farmer, leaving the young farmers,

-and sauntering across to the other side of the post-office, where

-a brisk-looking man was ripping open letters. "Can you give us the

-name of the preacher that wags his tongue in the church on Molunkus

-Street?"

-

-"Burness," said Mr. Price, raising his head, and letting his snapping

-eyes run beyond the farmer to the flock of young men huddling

-together like gray sheep.

-

-"Would you call him the best man in Ciscasset?" pursued the farmer,

-with a wave of his hand toward 'Tilda Jane.

-

-Mr. Price's snapping eyes had already taken her in. "What do you mean

-by best?" he asked, coolly.

-

-"I mean a man as always does what is right," said 'Tilda Jane, when

-the question was left for her to answer.

-

-"Don't go to Burness, then," said Mr. Price, rapidly. "Good

-preacher--poor practiser."

-

-"Ain't there any good practisers in Ciscasset?" asked the farmer,

-dryly.

-

-"Well--I know some pretty fair ones," responded Mr. Price. "I don't

-know of one perfect person in the length and breadth of the town. But

-I know two people, though, who come near enough to perfection for

-your job, I guess," and his brilliant glance rested on 'Tilda Jane.

-

-"Who be they?" asked the farmer, curiously.

-

-"Is it this young girl that wants 'em?" asked Mr. Price.

-

-"Yes, sir," said the farmer, "it is."

-

-"Then I'll tell her," said his quicksilver friend, and he flashed to

-'Tilda Jane's side. "Go up Wallastook Street to Allaguash Street. Ask

-for Reverend Mr. Tracy's house. Any one'll tell you--understand?"

-

-"Yes, sir--thank you; and thank _you_, too," and with a grateful

-gesture toward the farmer, she was gone.

-

-The farmer gazed after her. "I hate to see a young one in trouble.

-Someone's been imposin' on her."

-

-Mr. Price felt sympathetic, but he said nothing.

-

-"Who'd you send her to?" inquired the farmer. "I'd give a barrel of

-apples to know."

-

-"To me?" inquired Mr. Price, smartly.

-

-The farmer laughed. "Yes, sir--I'd do it. You've put me in the way of

-business before now."

-

-"I sent her to a man," replied Mr. Price, "who might be in Boston

-to-day if he wanted to. He gave up a big church to come here. He's

-always inveighing against luxury and selfishness and the other crowd

-of vices. He and his wife have stacks of money, but they give it

-away, and never do the peacock act. They're about as good as they

-make 'em. It isn't their talking I care about--not one rap. It's the

-carrying out of their talk, and not going back on it."

-

-"My daughter wants to go out as hired help. I guess that would be

-an A number one place, if they'd have her," observed the father,

-meditatively. "Good enough," said Mr. Price, "if you want her to

-ruin her earthly prospects, and better her heavenly ones," and he

-went away laughing.

-

-The farmer stepped to the post-office door. 'Tilda Jane was toiling

-up the sidewalk with downcast head. The shop windows had no

-attractions for her, nor was she throwing a single glance at the line

-of vehicles now passing along the street; and muttering, "Poor young

-one!" the farmer returned to his correspondence.

-

-The Reverend Mr. Tracy was having his breakfast in the big yellow

-house set up on terraces, which were green in summer and white in

-winter. The house was large, because it was meant to shelter other

-people beside the Tracys and their children, but there was not a

-stick of "genteel" furniture in it, the new housemaid from Portland

-was just disdainfully observing to the cook.

-

-"You'll get over that soon," remarked the cook, with a laugh and a

-toss of her head, "and will be for givin' away what we've got an'

-sittin' on the floor. There's the door-bell. You'd better go answer

-it; it's time the beggars was arrivin'."

-

-Mr. Tracy was late with his breakfast this morning, because he had

-been out half the night before with a drunken young man who had

-showed an unconquerable aversion to returning home. Now as he ate his

-chop and drank his hot milk, fed a parrot by his side, and talked to

-his wife, who kept moving about the room, he thought of this young

-man, until he caught the sound of voices in the hall.

-

-"Bessie," he said, quietly, "there's your new maid turning some one

-away."

-

-His wife stepped into the hall. The housemaid was indeed assuring a

-poor-looking child that the master of the house was at breakfast and

-could not see any one.

-

-"Then I'll wait," Mrs. Tracy heard in a dogged young voice. The front

-door closed as she hurried forward, but she quickly opened it. There

-on the top step sat a small girl holding a dog.

-

-"Good morning," she said, kindly; "do you want something?"

-

-"I want to see the Reverend Tracy," responded the little girl, and

-the clergyman's wife, used to sorrowful faces, felt her heart ache as

-this most sorrowful one was upturned to her.

-

-"Come in," she went on, and 'Tilda Jane found herself speedily

-walking through a wide but bare hall to a sunny dining-room. She

-paused on the threshold. That small, dark man must be the minister.

-He was no nearer beauty than she was, but he had a good face,

-and--let her rejoice for this--he was fond of animals, for on the

-hearth lay a cat and a dog asleep side by side, in the long windows

-hung canaries in cages, and on a luxuriant and beautiful rose-bush,

-growing in a big pot drawn up to the table, sat a green and very

-self-possessed parrot. She was not screeching, she was not tearing at

-the leaves, she sat meekly and thankfully receiving from time to time

-such morsels as her master chose to hand her.

-

-The little, dark, quiet man barely turned as she entered, but his one

-quick glance told him more than hours of conversation from 'Tilda

-Jane would have revealed. He did not get up, he did not shake hands

-with her, he merely nodded and uttered a brief "Good-morning."

-

-"Won't you sit here?" said Mrs. Tracy, bustling to the fireplace, and

-disturbing the cat and the dog in order to draw up a chair.

-

-"I think our young caller will have some breakfast with me," said the

-minister, without raising his eyes, and stretching out his hand he

-pushed a chair beyond the rose-bush, and by a gesture invited 'Tilda

-Jane to sit in it.

-

-She seated herself, crowded Gippie on her lap under the table, and

-mechanically put to her mouth the cup of steaming milk that seemed

-to glide to her hand. She was nearly fainting. A few minutes more,

-and she would have fallen to the floor. The minister did not speak

-to her. He went calmly on with his breakfast, and a warning finger

-uplifted kept his wife from making remarks. He talked a good deal to

-the parrot, and occasionally to himself, and not until 'Tilda Jane

-had finished the milk and eaten some bread and butter did any one

-address her.

-

-Then the minister spoke to the bird. "Say good morning to the little

-girl, Lulu."

-

-"Good morning," remarked the parrot, in a voice of grating amiability.

-

-"Say 'It's a pretty world,' Lulu," continued her owner.

-

-"It's a pretty world, darlin'," responded the parrot, bursting into

-hoarse, unmusical laughter at her own addition. "Oh, it's a pretty

-world--a pretty world!"

-

-To the gentleman and his wife there was something cynical and

-afflicting in the bird's comment on mundane affairs, and they

-surreptitiously examined their visitor. Did she feel this?

-

-She did--poor girl, she had been passing through some bitter

-experience. There was the haunting, injured look of wounded childhood

-on her face, and her curled lip showed that she, too, young as she

-was, had found that all was not good in the world, all was not

-beautiful.

-

-The parrot was singing now:

-

-      "'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam,

-      Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.

-      Home, home, sweet, s-we-e-e-t ho-o-o-me,"

-

-but at this point she overbalanced herself. Her uplifted claw swung

-over and she fell backward among the rose-branches.

-

-The bird's rueful expression as she fell, her ridiculous one as she

-gathered herself up, and with a surprised "Oh, dear!" climbed back to

-her perch, were so overcoming that the minister and his wife burst

-into hearty laughter.

-

-'Tilda Jane did not join them. She looked interested, and a very

-faint crease of amusement came in a little fold about her lips, but

-at once faded away.

-

-The minister got up and went to the fire, and taking out his watch

-earnestly consulted its face, then addressed his wife.

-

-"I have a ministers' meeting in half an hour. Can you go down-town

-with me?"

-

-"Yes, dear," replied Mrs. Tracy, and she glanced expectantly toward

-'Tilda Jane.

-

-The little girl started. "Can I ask you a question or so afore you

-go?" she asked, hurriedly.

-

-"No, my dear," said the man, with a fatherly air. "Not until I come

-back."

-

-"I guess some one's told you about me," remarked 'Tilda Jane,

-bitterly.

-

-"I never heard of you, or saw you before a quarter of an hour ago,"

-he replied, kindly. "Do you see that sofa?" and he drew aside a

-curtain. "You lie down there and rest, and in two hours we shall

-return. Come, Bessie--" and with his wife he left the room.

-

-'Tilda Jane was confounded, and her first idea was of capture. She

-was trapped at last, and would be sent back to the asylum--then a

-wave of different feeling swept over her. She would trust those two

-people anywhere, and they liked her. She could tell it by their looks

-and actions. She sighed heavily, almost staggered to the sofa, and

-throwing herself down, was in two minutes sleeping the sleep of utter

-exhaustion.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XIX

-

-SWEET AND SOFT REPENTANCE.

-

-

-She was awakened by a hoarse whisper in her ear: "Get up and go on,

-get up and go on. Don't croak, don't croak!"

-

-Her eyelids felt as heavy as lead, it seemed as if she would rather

-die than stir her sluggish limbs, yet she moved slightly as the rough

-whisper went on, "Get up and go on, get up and go on. Don't croak,

-don't croak!"

-

-It was the parrot with the cold in her throat, and she was perched on

-the sofa cushion by her head. 'Tilda Jane raised herself on one hand.

-How weary, how unspeakably weary she was! If she could only lie down

-again--and what was the matter with her? Why had she waked with that

-terrible feeling of unhappiness?

-

-She remembered now--Poacher was gone. She had not shed a tear over

-him before, but now she hid her face in her hands, and indulged in

-low and heart-broken lamentation. Poor Poacher--dear, handsome dog!

-She would never see him again. What would the Lucases say if they

-knew of his untimely end? What should she do without him? and she

-cried miserably, until the sound of voices in the next room recalled

-her to herself.

-

-She was in the minister's house, and she must get her business

-over with, and be gone. So choking back her emotion, she wiped her

-face, smoothed her dress, and, followed by Gippie, stepped into the

-dining-room.

-

-The minister was seated by the fire reading to his wife. He got up

-when he saw 'Tilda Jane, gave her a chair, then went on with his

-book. After some time he laid it down. His caller was composed now,

-and something told him that she was ready to consult him.

-

-He smiled a beautiful, gentle smile at her, and thus encouraged, she

-swallowed the lump in her throat and began:

-

-"I'm 'bliged to you, sir, for lettin' me sleep an' givin' me some

-breakfus, an' can I tell you somethin' 'bout myself? I'm all kind o'

-scatter-wise."

-

-"And you wish some one to straighten you out?" he asked, benevolently.

-

-"Yes, sir--an' I thought the best person would be a minister--they

-said you was the best here."

-

-Mrs. Tracy smiled in a gratified fashion, while 'Tilda Jane went

-earnestly on, "I'm all mixy-maxy, an' I feel as if I hadn't started

-right. I guess I'll tell you jus' where I come from--I s'pose you

-know the Middle Marsden Orphan 'Sylum?"

-

-The minister told her that he had heard of it. He did not tell her

-that he had heard it was one of the few badly managed institutions

-for orphans in the State, that the children were kept strictly, fed

-poorly, and were rapidly "institutionalised" while under the care of

-uneducated, ignorant women, who were only partially supervised by a

-vacillating board of lady managers.

-

-"Well, I was riz there," continued 'Tilda Jane, "rizzed mostly in

-trouble, but still I was riz, an' the ladies paid for me, an' I

-didn't take that into 'count when I run away."

-

-"So you ran away," he said, encouragingly.

-

-"Yes, sir, 'count o' this dog, I said," and she pointed to Gippie,

-"but I guess inside o' me, 'twas as much for myself. I didn't like

-the 'sylum, I wanted to run away, even when there was no talk o' the

-dog, an' I'll tell you what happened," and while the minister and his

-wife courteously listened, she gave a full and entire account of her

-wanderings during the time that she had been absent from the asylum.

-She told them of Hank Dillson, of her sojourn at Vanceboro, and her

-experience with the Lucases, and finally her story brought her down

-to the events of the day before.

-

-"When that ole man keeled over my dog," she said, brokenly, "that

-dog as had saved my life, I wanted murder. I wished something would

-strike him dead. But he didn't fall dead, an' then I thought it was

-time for me to chip in an' do somethin'. I took them crutches as he

-can't move without, an' I burnt 'em most up--all but a little bit at

-the top with the gold writin', 'cause he sits an' gazes at it, an' I

-guess sets store by it."

-

-"You burnt Hobart Dillson's crutches!" exclaimed Mrs. Tracy, in

-surprise.

-

-"Yes, ma'am--'cause he'd killed my dog."

-

-"I wonder he had not struck you down," said the lady, with a shudder.

-"He is said to be a man with a very violent temper."

-

-'Tilda Jane sprang up, her face as white as a sheet. "I mos' forgot.

-I s'pose he's sittin' there this minute. He can't move without 'em,

-an' nobody'll go near him. Now, sir,"--and she turned in desperate

-haste to the little, dark, silent man,--"tell me quick what I ought

-to do."

-

-"You are a child with a conscience," he said, gravely; "you have been

-turning the matter over in your own mind. What conclusion have you

-reached?"

-

-"Go on," said the parrot, hoarsely, and between intervals of climbing

-by means of bill and claw to the top of a chair, "go on, and don't

-croak. Don't cr-r-r-r-oak!"

-

-[Illustration: "'I'VE LED ANOTHER DOG ASTRAY, AN' NOW HE'S DEAD!'"]

-

-'Tilda Jane turned her solemn face toward the bird. "Walkin' to an'

-fro las' night, a verse o' Scripter kep' comin' to me, 'Children,

-obey your parents in the Lord--' Now, I ain't got any parents, but

-I had lady-boards. I oughtn't to 'a' run away. I ought to have give

-up the dog, an' trusted. I ought to 'a' begged them to get me a home.

-I ought to 'a' been a better girl. Then I might 'a' been 'dopted.

-Ever sence I've run away, there's been trouble--trouble, trouble,

-nothin' but trouble. I've led another dog astray, an' now he's dead!"

-

-Mr. and Mrs. Tracy exchanged a pitying glance. The child was

-intensely in earnest. Her black eyes were bent absently on the parrot

-who had fallen prey to an immense curiosity with regard to Gippie,

-and having surveyed him from the back of the chair and the mantel,

-and finding him harmless, was now walking cautiously around him as

-he lay on the hearth-rug. Presently, emboldened by his silence, she

-took the end of his tail in her beak. He did not move, and she gently

-pinched it.

-

-There was a squeal, a rush, and a discomfited parrot minus three tail

-feathers flying to her master's shoulder.

-

-"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, "my, my! What a fuss--what a fuss!"

-

-Very little attention was paid her. Her master and mistress

-were taken up with the youthful owner of the dog, but Mr. Tracy

-mechanically stroked the bird as he put another question to 'Tilda

-Jane.

-

-"And what do you propose to do?"

-

-"I think I ought to go back," she said, earnestly. "I ought to say

-I'm sorry. I ought to say I'll do better."

-

-"Go back--where?" asked Mrs. Tracy, eagerly.

-

-"First to the ole man. I ought to be civil to him. I ought to talk,

-an' not be mum like an oyster. I ought to ask him if he wants me to

-go 'way. I ought to write the lady-boards an' tell 'em where I be. I

-ought to say I'll go back."

-

-"Do you wish to go back?" asked Mr. Tracy.

-

-A shiver passed over 'Tilda Jane's slight frame, but she spoke up

-bravely. "I ain't a-goin' to think o' that, sir. I've got to do

-what's right."

-

-"And what about your dog?"

-

-"Oh, Gippie ain't in it at all," she said, with animation. "He don't

-need to go. I guess I'll find some nice home for him with somebody

-as likes animiles," and a shrewd and melancholy smile hovered about

-her tense lips as she gazed at her host and hostess.

-

-"Poor little girl," said Mrs. Tracy, sympathetically; "we will take

-your dog and you, too. You shall not go back--you shall live with us."

-

-As she spoke, her big blue eyes filled with tears, and she laid a

-caressing hand on 'Tilda Jane's shoulder.

-

-"Please don't do that, ma'am," said the little girl, vehemently, and

-slipping her shoulder from under the embracing hand. "Please don't do

-anything homey to me. Treat me as if I was a real orphan."

-

-"A real orphan," repeated Mrs. Tracy, in slight bewilderment.

-

-"Oh, I want a home," cried the little girl, clenching her hands, and

-raising her face to the ceiling. "I want some one to talk to me as

-if I had blue eyes and curly hair. I want a little rocking-chair an'

-a fire. I don't want to mind bells, an' run with a crowd o' orphans,

-but it ain't the will o' Providence. I've got to give up," and her

-hands sank to her sides, and her head fell on her breast.

-

-Mrs. Tracy bit her lip, and pressed her hands together.

-

-"Will you stay to dinner with us, my dear?" said Mr. Tracy,

-softly. "I will take you into my study where there is a fire and a

-rocking-chair, and you shall see some curiosities that I picked up in

-Palestine."

-

-"Oh, no, sir, I must go," and she again became animated. "That ole

-man--I mus' see him. Tell me, sir, jus' what I am to do. I've been

-doin' all the talkin', an' I wanted to hear you. I guess I'm crazy,"

-and she pressed her hands nervously over her ears.

-

-She was in a strange state of nervous exaltation that was the natural

-reaction from her terrible dejection of the evening before. She had

-decided to make a martyr of herself--a willing martyr, and Mr. Tracy

-would not detain her.

-

-"Go back to Mr. Dillson's, my dear; you have mapped out your own

-course. I do not need to advise you. Your conscience has spoken, and

-you are listening to its voice. Go, and God bless you. You shall

-hear from us."

-

-'Tilda Jane was about to rush away, but Mrs. Tracy detained her.

-"Wait an instant. I have something for you," and she hurried from the

-room.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XX.

-

-WAITING.

-

-

-Mr. Dillson had not passed a pleasant night. In the first place

-he had not been able to move for a long time after 'Tilda Jane's

-departure. For half an hour he had sat, hoping that she would return,

-or that some one would call on some errand. Without his crutches he

-was helpless.

-

-Strange to say, he was not in a rage with her. Indeed, he had never

-felt more kindly disposed toward her, and he certainly had never so

-longed for a sight of her little thin, ungraceful figure. Just at the

-moment of the burning of the crutches he could have felled her to the

-earth, but after it was an accomplished fact his lack of resentment

-was a marvel even to himself. Possibly it was because she had saved

-the gold plate. Possibly--as minute after minute went by--it was

-because a peculiar fear drove all vengeance from his mind.

-

-He had not liked the look in her eyes when she went out. Suppose she

-should make way with herself? Suppose she should jump into a hole in

-the ice, or throw herself in front of a locomotive, or do any other

-of the foolish things that desperate and maddened people were in the

-habit of doing? What would then be his position? Not an enviable one,

-by any means. He was partly--not wholly, for he had some shreds of

-vanity left--aware of his neighbours' opinion respecting himself.

-There was an ugly word they might connect with his name--and he

-glowered over the fire, and felt sufficiently uncomfortable until a

-strange and marvellous thing happened.

-

-The kitchen was in an ell of the house, and, by hitching his chair

-around, he could command a view from the side window of a slice of

-the garden in front, and also of a narrow strip of the road before

-the house. He would watch this strip, and if a passer-by appeared,

-would hail him or her, and beg to have a new pair of crutches ordered

-from the town.

-

-It was while he was sitting in the gathering gloom watching this bit

-of highway, that the marvellous thing happened. Just by the corner

-of the house was a black patch on the snow,--the hind legs and tail

-of the poor deceased Poacher. The fore part of the body was beyond

-his vision. Dillson had no particular dislike for the spectacle. A

-dead dog was a more pleasant sight than a living one to him, and he

-was just wondering whom he would get to remove the animal, when he

-imagined that he saw the tail move.

-

-No, it was only his imperfect vision, and he rubbed his eyes and

-moistened his glasses. Now the tail was no longer there--the hind

-legs were no longer there. Had some one come up the front walk and

-drawn the creature away?

-

-He pressed his face close against the window-pane. No--there was the

-dog himself on his feet and walking about--first in a staggering

-fashion, then more correctly.

-

-The old man eagerly raised the window. If the girl lived, and was

-going about saying that he had killed her dog, here was proof

-positive that he had not; and smacking his lips, and making a

-clicking sound with his tongue, he tried to attract the resuscitated

-Poacher's attention. He must capture the animal and keep him.

-

-It was years since he had called a dog--not since he was a young man

-and had gone hunting on the marshes below the town.

-

-"Here, dog, dog!" he said, impatiently; "good dog!"

-

-Poacher gravely advanced to the window and stood below him.

-

-"Good dog," repeated the old man. "Hi--jump in," and he held the

-window higher.

-

-The dog would not jump while the enemy was there. He would not have

-jumped at all, if he had been at the back door, for he would have

-smelled his mistress's tracks and gone after her. Now he suspected

-that she was in the house.

-

-Though every movement gave him agony, the old man hobbled away from

-the window. The dog sprang in, and Dillson clapped the sash down. He

-had the animal now.

-

-Poacher was running around the room, sniffing vigorously. He stood on

-his hind legs and smelled at the peg where the hat and tippet had

-hung. Then he ran to the wood-shed door.

-

-With a most unusual exertion of strength, the old man rose, pushed

-the chair before him, and breathing hard, and resting heavily on

-it, opened the cellar door. He would shut the dog down there out of

-sight, and where he could not run out if any one came in.

-

-"She's down there, dog," he said, and the boldness with which he told

-the story so impressed Poacher, that after one inquiring glance which

-convinced him that his enemy's attitude had changed from that of a

-murderous to a semi-friendly one, he dashed down the steps into the

-cold cellar.

-

-Dillson slammed the door, and chuckled. Now to get back to the

-window. He tried to hitch his chair along, but he was weak and must

-rest. He sat for a few minutes, and when the few minutes were over,

-he found that his muscles had stiffened. He could not move.

-

-He sat a little longer. The fire went out, and the room got cold. He

-was so far from the window that he doubted if any one could hear him

-if he shouted.

-

-He lifted up his voice to try. He was as hoarse as a crow. He had a

-cold, and it was every minute getting worse. If he had the dog from

-the cellar, he might tie something to him and frighten him so that

-he would go dashing through a window. He began to feel that if the

-little girl did not return, he might sit there till he died.

-

-His case was not desperate yet, however. He waited and waited. The

-night came and went, and another morning dawned, and the weather

-changed outside, until a stiff frost began to transform the thaw into

-a return of winter weather--and still he waited, but the little girl

-did not come.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XXI.

-

-THE TIGER BECOMES A LAMB.

-

-

-Gippie was tired out, and in an execrable temper. He had had to trot

-home all the way from the Tracys, for his mistress was carrying a

-long bundle under one arm, and a good-sized basket on the other. And

-now that she was in sight of the house, she was fairly running, and

-he could scarcely keep up with her.

-

-Her head was turned far round, she was looking over her shoulder in

-the direction away from the front of the house, and yet she went

-right to the spot where the unfortunate Poacher had fallen.

-

-Gippie knew very well what all her emotion was about. Like some deaf

-and partly blind human beings, he was more aware of happenings than

-people supposed. Poacher was dead, and he was not sorry for it,

-for he had been desperately jealous of him, and limping up to his

-mistress he impatiently whined to claim recognition.

-

-"Oh, Gippie, what shall I do?" she moaned. "What shall I do? He was

-so good and gentle. I can't go in--I can't go in."

-

-She was on her knees on the snow. Her hands were wandering over the

-depression where Poacher had lain. Her face was so pale and unhappy,

-that even Gippie's selfish heart was touched, and standing on his

-hind legs to reach her shoulder, he tenderly licked her right ear

-inside and out, until she brushed him aside with a half laugh, half

-sob, and a murmured, "You tickle my ear, Gippie."

-

-She got up and moved slowly toward the back door, while the dog

-trotted along nimbly on his three legs after her. Why, what a

-vault! and Gippie shivered and turned his short-sighted eyes in the

-direction of the kitchen stove. It was black and cold, and the old

-man, sitting in the draughtiest corner of the room, right by the

-cellar door, was a dull, mottled purple. He did not speak when the

-door opened. He was morose and silent, and his whole appearance was

-that of a man in extreme distress.

-

-Gippie was an excellent hater, and it did him good to see the old man

-suffer. However, he did not care to suffer with him, and squealing

-dismally, he planted himself near the delinquent stove.

-

-'Tilda Jane's listlessness and painful depression were gone. With a

-quick exclamation, she had dropped her basket and bundle, and had

-sprung to the kindling box.

-

-There was nothing in it. She rushed to the wood-shed, came back with

-a handful of sticks and paper, and by dint of extra quick movements

-had, in an astonishingly short space of time, a good fire roaring up

-the chimney.

-

-Then she turned to the old man, who was still sitting in stony

-silence. "I'm 'fraid you're most froze, sir. Can't you come nigher

-the fire?"

-

-Dillson's eyelids were swollen with the cold, but there was still

-room for a disagreeable twinkle to glimmer through. He would say

-nothing, however, and 'Tilda Jane, approaching the long, peculiar

-looking bundle, opened it, took out a pair of crutches, and handed

-them to him with a humble, supplicating air.

-

-Gippie crawled farther under the stove, and, lowering his head,

-awaited developments.

-

-But there was no danger of a blow from the old man. His hands were

-so benumbed that he could not hold the crutches. They slipped to the

-floor with a crash, and, opening his purple lips, he ejaculated the

-word, "Tea!"

-

-"Ain't you had nothin' sence I left?" inquired 'Tilda Jane, sharply.

-

-Dillson shook his head.

-

-"You ain't been sittin' there all night?"

-

-He nodded his head this time.

-

-'Tilda Jane's face took on an expression of dismay, and she flew

-around the kitchen.

-

-The warm atmosphere was now enwrapping the old man in a most

-agreeable manner, and when 'Tilda Jane handed him the big cup, he

-grunted something between an expression of thanks and a desire that

-she should hold it to his lips.

-

-While he greedily drank the hot liquid, 'Tilda Jane, with a queer

-choking in her throat, addressed broken remarks to him. "I didn't

-know, sir--I was hopin' some one would come in--I was mos' crazy

-'bout the dog--I forgot all 'bout you till jus' now."

-

-"More," he said, shortly, when 'Tilda Jane put the cup down.

-

-She refilled it, then, as his hands began to get supple and he could

-manipulate it himself, she uncovered the basket Mrs. Tracy had given

-her.

-

-"I didn't look in before," she exclaimed. "Oh, the beauty eggs!" and

-she carefully unrolled a napkin, "an' the white rolls, an' Washington

-cake, an' a meat pie, an' a tart--I say, grampa, we'll have a good

-dinner!"

-

-The old man looked strangely at her, but she went on unheedingly:

-"They're jus' boss people. I'm glad I went an' talked to 'em--I'm

-sorry I was so ugly to you, grampa, an' if you don't want me, I guess

-I'd better go 'way."

-

-She spoke quite humbly and naturally, and, as she did so, she raised

-her head and glanced in Dillson's direction.

-

-He made no response, and she went on: "I've been a very bad little

-girl, but I'm goin' to be better, an' you jus' tell me what you want

-me to do, grampa, an' I'll do it, an' if you don't want to talk, you

-jus' write it. I know you're a big man, an' mebbe you don't want to

-talk to a little girl like me, but I'll not lay it up agin you. You

-jus' do what you want, an' I'm not tryin' to come round you, 'cause I

-'spect you'll send me off quicker'n a flash so soon as you get some

-one else."

-

-Her lips were trembling, and her face was bright and expectant, but

-the old man gave her no satisfaction.

-

-"Hand me some of that pie," he said, unexpectedly.

-

-"Can you wait till I set the table an' make it look real pretty,

-grampa?" she said, coaxingly.

-

-Dillson was nearly starved, and, without a word, held out his hand in

-a commanding fashion.

-

-"All right, grampa," she said, gently, and she handed him a generous

-slice; "anythin' you like. This is your house. It ain't mine."

-

-Dillson ate his pie, watching her meanwhile out of a corner of his

-eye.

-

-"Bread and meat," he said when he had finished.

-

-'Tilda Jane supplied this want, and earnestly watched these viands

-going the way of the pie.

-

-"More tea," he said, when they were gone.

-

-When he had eaten and drunk to an alarming extent, he pointed to the

-crutches. "Where did you get them?"

-

-"I saw 'em in a window, grampa,--a great big druggist's window,--an'

-I went in an' said to the man, 'Can you trust me for 'em? I'll pay

-you, sure pop, if you'll gimme time. I'm goin' to be a good girl now,

-an' never tell no more lies nor steal, nor do anythin' bad,' but he

-jus' said ever so grumpy, 'This is a cast down, no credit system

-store,' but I wasn't cas' down, an' I said, 'S'pose you was a lame

-man, an' a bad little girl burnt up your crutches, how would you

-feel? 'Then he looked kind o' solemn, an' said, 'Whose crutches was

-burnt up?' An' I said, 'Mr. Hobart Dillson's crutches,' an' he said,

-'What girl burnt 'em?' I said, 'A little girl that don't know where

-to look.' Then he asked what you said when I burnt your crutches, an'

-I said you didn't say much, you jus' cussed. Then he turned his face

-round to the bottles, an' when he looked out it was red, an' he was

-shakin' all over like as if he's been cryin', an' he jus' pointed to

-the crutches an' said, 'Take 'em, an' welcome.'"

-

-Dillson's head dropped on his breast. This girl had evidently gone to

-Peter Jerret's store,--Peter Jerret who had owed him a grudge ever

-since the day he went in and denounced him before a store full of

-customers for overcharging him for prescriptions. Peter had actually

-dared to pity him--Hobart Dillson, and so had let the girl have the

-crutches, not caring whether he ever got paid or not. Well, he hadn't

-thought Peter would ever pity him, and, drawing his crutches toward

-him, Dillson cautiously lifted himself, and tried his weight upon

-them.

-

-Yes, he could walk, he would go to bed, and think over Peter's

-conduct. It affected him, but he must not look soft. "Open my door,"

-he said to 'Tilda Jane.

-

-While she flew to obey his command, the old man heard a low whine

-near him, and remembered Poacher. The dog had recognised the girl's

-voice, and would soon make himself known. He might as well have

-the credit of his discovery. If she had come home sulky he would

-have allowed her to find the dog for herself, but she was meek and

-biddable, and she had also secretly pleased him by addressing him as

-"grampa," in tones of such respect and affection. She had improved

-decidedly, and he exclaimed, peremptorily, "Here, you!"

-

-'Tilda Jane ran out from the bedroom, where she was turning down the

-icy sheets in the bed so that the chill might be taken from them.

-

-"Open this door," ordered the old man.

-

-With a wondering air 'Tilda Jane threw back the cellar door. Then she

-gave a joyful scream.

-

-There, standing on the top step, cold and shivering, half famished,

-but alive and well, was her beloved Poacher.

-

-She tried to catch him around the neck, but he flew past her into the

-kitchen, came back like a shot, and, dashing up her back, licked her

-neck, sprang into the air, and again racing round and round the room,

-brought on what she herself would call a "combobberation."

-

-The old man was so near, that Poacher, in his wild gyrations to and

-fro, swept one of his crutches from him. 'Tilda Jane, even in the

-midst of her astonished and ecstatic glee, perceived this, and

-stooped down to recover the lost article, but she could not lay her

-hand on it, for the excited dog, with his head in the air and his

-tongue hanging out, made repeated dashes at her, beside her, behind

-her,--he was everywhere that she was. And Gippie was after him, for,

-snorting with rage and mortification at the resuscitation of his

-rival, he had bounded from under the stove, and, with his maimed

-tail wagging excitedly in the air, was biting, snapping, growling

-at Poacher's heels, nipping him fiercely, if by chance he paused a

-second to rest.

-

-The noise and confusion were overcoming, and the old man, holding

-firmly to his remaining crutch, and grasping the back of a chair,

-grimly surveyed the scene. Finally 'Tilda Jane secured the crutch,

-and, pantingly brushing back her dishevelled hair, she passed it to

-him across the dogs' backs.

-

-Poacher had now sunk on the floor at her feet, while Gippie was

-exerting his feeble strength in trying to crowd him away from 'Tilda

-Jane's stout shoes.

-

-"Forgive us, grampa, dear grampa," she said, beseechingly; "but it's

-such a joyful 'casion--such a 'casion. My heart never felt so big in

-my life. It's all swolled up. Oh, ain't you sweet to prepare this

-s'prise for me. When I come back jus' now I thought my pet was buried

-in the cold ground--oh, I jus' love you!" and, climbing over the

-quarrelling dogs, she seized the bunch of knuckles nearest her, and

-kissed them fervently.

-

-The old man slowly uncurled his fist and looked at it. How many years

-was it since any one had kissed him?

-

-He put the crutch under his arm, and turned toward the bedroom.

-

-"Good night, grampa, dear grampa," floated sweetly after him. The

-girl was down on the floor with her dogs, her arm was around the

-hound's black neck, the three-legged atrocity was pressed to her

-side. She was happy, yes, happy--"as happy as a fool," he grumbled to

-himself. Nothing to annoy her, nothing to trouble her. Wait till she

-got older, and life's worries began to crowd around her, and with an

-impatient groan the old man flung himself down on the chair by his

-bed.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XXII.

-

-A TROUBLED MIND.

-

-

-'Tilda Jane and grampa were sitting out in front of the house. The

-spring months had passed, the apple-trees had blossomed, and the

-young apples had formed. With the changing season had come happier

-days for 'Tilda Jane. Little by little, as the weeks slipped by, a

-better understanding had arisen between her and "grampa."

-

-He still gave way occasionally to terrible fits of temper and

-sullenness, but 'Tilda Jane understood him better now, and was quick

-to soothe and pacify him, or, if he was unmanageable, to keep out of

-his presence until he recovered.

-

-Just now he was in an unusually amiable frame of mind,--a frame

-of mind so accommodating that it boded storms in the near future.

-However, 'Tilda Jane did not care. She accepted the present peace and

-was thankful.

-

-She had dragged out his big rocking-chair for him to sit on, and had

-given him an evening paper to read, while she herself was curled up

-on her favourite seat on the door-step.

-

-The old man was not inclined to read his paper, and dropping it on

-his knees he took off his glasses, put them in his pocket, and let

-his eyes wander to the apple-trees.

-

-The river was flowing blue and open now, birds were singing, and all

-things betokened a fine summer.

-

-"When you hear those robins sing, don't it feel as if there was a

-little string squeakin' inside o' you?" said 'Tilda Jane, gleefully.

-

-Dillson made no reply, and seeing that he was in no mood for a

-sympathetic comparison of emotions, she diplomatically started

-another topic of conversation.

-

-"I guess the birds make me glad, 'cause I'm so happy you let me bide

-with you, grampa--an' you've been so noble an' generous to lend me

-money to pay for the matron's shawl I took for Gippie. An' it was so

-kind in the lady-boards to write back that they was glad to get rid

-of me."

-

-[Illustration: "'THEY WAS GLAD TO GET RID OF ME.'"]

-

-The old man laughed a toothless laugh at her whimsical view of the

-lady-boards' reply, but said nothing.

-

-"I ain't told you much of my travels yet, grampa," she said,

-agreeably. "I've been so busy house-cleanin'. I guess you'd like to

-hear about Vanceboro."

-

-The old man did not display any particular interest in Vanceboro, but

-having assured herself by a swift examination of his features that

-the subject was not disagreeable to him, she went on, "It's a great

-ole place. I'd like you to go there sometime, grampa. Such goings-on

-with them furriners! I saw one woman walkin' up and down wringin' her

-hands an' cryin' 'cause they wouldn't let her bring her ole mother

-into this nation."

-

-She waited for her hearer to ask why the mother was forbidden to

-come where the daughter could enter, but he did not do so, and she

-continued, "She was a poor woman from Boston, an' her mother was a

-poor woman from Canada, an' they said if she come in 'twould be two

-poor women together, an' first thing they knowed they'd be both in

-the poorhouse. So her mother had to go back to Canada."

-

-Dillson looked entirely uninterested in the case of the would-be

-immigrant, so, after a farewell announcement that sometimes as many

-as two hundred "furriners" went through Vanceboro in a single day,

-'Tilda Jane passed on to another branch of her subject.

-

-"It's a reg'lar jubilee, grampa, when the trains come in--a boy

-runnin' to a big bell an' ringin' it, an' people pourin' into the

-lunch-room, an' jus' chasin' the food into their mouths an' lookin'

-hunted-like, as if there was somethin' after them, an' some don't

-take time to go to the tables. They step up to the lunch-counter,

-which is shaped jus' like a moon when it ain't full. There's glass

-dishes on it, with oranges, an' bananas, an' cakes an' pies, an'

-sangwiches, an' a funny machine where you drop a nickel in a

-crack, an' if the hand points to five, or ten or fifteen, you get

-twenty-five cents' worth of candy, an' if you don't get candy you get

-good advice like as, 'You've been keepin' bad comp'ny, quit it or you

-will never prosper,' or 'You've run away from home, an' the perlice

-is on your track,' or 'Smokin is a bad thing for your health.'"

-

-Grampa was not very much interested, so 'Tilda Jane tried something

-more startling.

-

-"There's great talk of railroad accidents there. Men get killed

-awful. I heard a table-girl ask a brakeman how he could go on a

-train for fear he'd be hurt, an' he said he dassent stop to think,

-he had to take chances. I used to see 'em runnin' like cats on top

-o' them cars, slippery with snow an' ice. If you're inside one o'

-them cars, grampa, an' there's goin' to be a turnover, jus' grip hard

-on somethin' steady, 'cause then you're not so apt to get killed. I

-heard a conductor say that."

-

-Grampa's travelling days were over, yet it pleased him to be talked

-to as if he were still a strong and active man, and he said, shortly,

-"I'm not likely to be going far from home."

-

-"You don't know, grampa," she said, soothingly. "Some day when you

-get nice and well, I'd like to travel with you, but first you must be

-very quiet like one of Job's mice, an' not have anythin' gnawin' at

-you--I guess you've had lots of plague times in your life."

-

-Grampa looked unheedingly beyond her to the apple-trees.

-

-Her face was shrewd and puckered, and she was surveying him like a

-cunning little cat.

-

-"Sometimes, grampa, I hear you fussin' in your sleep--moanin' an'

-cryin' like a poor dog what's lost her pups."

-

-The old man turned and looked at her sharply.

-

-She went on boldly, "Can I lie in my soft, warm bed up-stairs an' you

-a-sufferin'? No, I creepy, creepy down, to see if I can do anythin'."

-

-"Don't you do that again," said the old man, his face becoming red.

-"You stay in your bed at night."

-

-"All right, grampa," she said, meekly, "but I've heard things

-already."

-

-"Things--what things?" he asked, sharply.

-

-'Tilda Jane folded together the apron she was hemming, and getting

-up, opened a door of retreat behind her into the house.

-

-"About losin' that money," she said, sadly. She paused, and as he

-neither spoke or made any motion to throw a crutch at her, she

-proceeded, "Grampa, I jus' know it's like a little pain hawk pickin'

-at your skin."

-

-Grampa was still silent, painfully so, and she hurried on, "You

-haven't got much money, an' you have me an' the dogs to take care

-of. Now, grampa, won't you let me get some work to do outside to

-help us?" and she screwed her features into their most persuasive

-appearance.

-

-Grampa had his head turned away over his shoulder, and when he after

-a long time twisted it around, 'Tilda Jane rose, and prudently and

-swiftly retired into the hall.

-

-He must be in a rage. His face was fiery, and he was making a

-choking, spluttering sound in his throat,--a sound that only came

-from him in moments of agitation.

-

-"Don't you--don't you," he stammered, "spy on me again, and bother

-your young head about things you know nothing of. Do you hear?" and

-he accentuated his remarks by a tap of his crutch on the door-step.

-"I've had a way all my life of talking over things in my sleep. And

-you've got enough to do at home. I'll not have you working for other

-people."

-

-"All right, grampa," said 'Tilda Jane, submissively, and she made

-a step toward him. She had planned to fly through the hall to his

-bedroom, and remove his wash bowl and pitcher, for since she had come

-to the cottage he had broken several in his fits of rage.

-

-But grampa was not angry in a violent way this time. "He's more

-bothered than mad," she murmured, dispiritedly, and she drew aside to

-allow him to pass by her into the house.

-

-"The dew's falling," he muttered, as he went by her. "I'll go sit in

-the kitchen a spell."

-

-'Tilda Jane went mournfully to sit under the trees on a wooden bench

-that grampa had had made for her. The two dogs curled themselves up

-at her feet, and with a sigh she picked up a writing pad beside her.

-It was almost too dark to see the lines, but she must finish a letter

-that she had begun to write to Hank.

-

-His former custom had been to scratch a line to his father once in

-six months to say he was alive and well, but since 'Tilda Jane's

-arrival he had written every week, and had addressed his letters to

-her.

-

-It was a great pleasure to the little girl to get these letters,

-and an equal pleasure to answer them. She related to him every

-occurrence of her daily life, all details of his father's conduct

-except disagreeable ones, and her letters always ended with an urgent

-request that he would come and visit them.

-

-This evening she had as usual made an appeal at the end of her

-letter. "Dear Mr. Hank, it seems a long time sence the snow was on

-the ground. I guess if you knew how much we want to see you you'd

-come hurryin' home. The dogs send love, Gippie specially 'cause he

-knows you. Poacher says he'd be happy to make your acquaintance--and,

-Mr. Hank, your father's kind of worried about somethin'. I guess he'd

-like to see you."

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XXIII.

-

-AN UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE.

-

-

-While 'Tilda Jane wrote, Poacher suddenly made a stealthy movement,

-and Gippie, deaf as he was, had enough of the dog spirit left in him

-to know that some one was coming, and to elevate the tiny V-shaped

-flaps over his ears.

-

-The gate clicked, there was a rustling along the ribbon-grass

-bordering the narrow path, and then 'Tilda Jane's writing-pad fell to

-the ground, and she sprang up with a delighted scream.

-

-For peering forward in the gathering gloom, she discovered Hank, the

-long-absent Hank, moving heavily and awkwardly up the path toward her.

-

-He had grown thin; his clothes hung loosely on him, and he was pale

-and worried in appearance, but 'Tilda Jane did not criticise him. He

-was the person who had most helped her in her search for a home, and,

-springing toward him, she caught his arm and ejaculated: "Oh, Hank!

-Mr. Hank--is it truly you I'm pinchin', or is it a ghost?"

-

-He smiled faintly, and, in return, pinched her cheek. "I ain't a

-ghost yet, though 'pon my word I didn't know but what I'd soon be

-one." As he spoke, he threw himself wearily on the seat. "Well,

-'Tilda, how does Ciscasset treat you? Coronation! You're getting

-fat," and he scanned her in satisfaction. "I wouldn't know you for

-the little runaway that held me up last March out at Marsden."

-

-"I guess I'm gettin' fat 'cause I'm peaceful in my mind," said 'Tilda

-Jane, demurely; "I don't have no one to fight. I'm jus' havin' the

-softest time!"

-

-"So father really treats you well?"

-

-"Of course--don't I write you? He's jus' as sweet as a peach. He lets

-me wash, an' scrub, an' cook, an' never says a word excep' not to

-work too hard, an' if he wants to be jus' a little bit cranky, jus' a

-teeny little bit, he goes in his room an' shuts the door till the bad

-spirit gets out of him."

-

-"Did he ever hurt you?"

-

-"No, he never struck me--he usen't to like the dogs."

-

-Hank had never been told of Poacher's adventure, but his attention

-wandered to the dog, and he absently stroked his head.

-

-"You've done the old man a lot of good," he said at last.

-

-"I--no, sir," said 'Tilda Jane, earnestly. "I guess it's the dogs.

-But he wants more good done to him. He's in a regular slouch of

-despond sometimes, Mr. Hank."

-

-"Is he?" said the young man, listlessly; "what's he desponding about?"

-

-"About money, Mr. Hank. He lost some in the street, and never got

-it back--then it costs something to keep me and the dogs. I feel

-dreadful about it. I try to eat jus' as little as possible, but I'm

-as hungry as a bear mos' all the time."

-

-Hank's attention was aroused. "You must not stent yourself, sissy.

-This is too bad. I'm to blame. I've been intending to send you some

-money, but I've had a run of bad luck."

-

-His face was so disturbed that 'Tilda Jane made haste to change the

-subject.

-

-"Oh, I'm so worked up to see you--I'm perfectly 'tossicated. I feel

-jus' like the teakettle afore it boils, an' that 'minds me--I mus' go

-set it on. You mus' be starvin'."

-

-"No, I ain't hungry; I haven't had an appetite for a week. How much

-did father lose?"

-

-"Sixty dollars," said the little girl, reluctantly.

-

-Hank relapsed into silence after this information. He was evidently

-not inclined to talk, but 'Tilda Jane was brimful of questions, and

-presently burst out with one of them.

-

-"Mr. Hank, what did you do with that beauty horse of yours?"

-

-"Had to sell it," he said, bitterly. "I've lost everything I had.

-Those farmers are all against me. Every potato top among them. I'm

-played out in this State. They'd like to jail me if they could."

-

-"Jail you," said 'Tilda Jane, resentfully, "I guess I'd come and

-pound at the door of the jail if they did."

-

-"You ought to pound," said Hank, in an ungrateful and ungallant

-tone, "'cause I ain't had a mite of luck since you crossed my path."

-

-'Tilda Jane fell into blank astonishment for the space of one minute,

-then she asked, wistfully, "Do you mean that--did I truly bring you

-bad luck?"

-

-"You truly did," he said, peevishly. "I'm all broken up in my

-business, cleaned out, done for."

-

-'Tilda Jane pushed the hair back from her forehead with a bewildered

-gesture. Her benefactor was in trouble--perhaps ruined, and through

-her. But this was no time for reflection, the urgency of the case

-demanded action.

-

-"Mr. Hank," she said, softly, "warn't it a roguey kind of a business,

-anyway?"

-

-"All business is roguey," he said, gruffly.

-

-"I guess you don't mean that," she said, mildly. "I know you don't

-mean that I've done you harm. I guess you're jus' in trouble like the

-river in the spring, when the ice goes mixy-maxy every way."

-

-He smiled slightly as he rose, and looked down into the shrewd little

-face, "Well, ta, ta, 'Tilda--be a good girl."

-

-"Where are you goin'?" she asked, helplessly.

-

-"Blest if I know--somewhere to earn a living, to Canada, maybe."

-

-"Don't you go through Vanceboro," she said, sharply, then she pressed

-her hands to her head. "I think I'm crazy--are you Hank Dillson,

-standin' there sayin' you're goin' to leave us like this?"

-

-"Don't take on, 'Tilda," he said, consolingly. "I'm real sorry. I

-wouldn't have come out of my way this much if I hadn't promised you,

-and if you hadn't been such a nice little girl. Of course you haven't

-hurt me. I guess you've done me good, for I've had a kind of disgust

-with my business ever since you set foot in my life."

-

-She paid no attention to the latter part of his speech. "You say

-you've got to go, an' I can't keep you," she murmured, stupidly, "an'

-you don't know where you're goin'."

-

-"I don't know, an' I don't want to know. I'll loaf along till my

-money gives out, then I'll go to work."

-

-"Hank, do you think of Orstralia?"

-

-"No, I ain't got dough enough to get that far."

-

-"Do you mean bread?"

-

-"No, I mean cash."

-

-"Why don't you stay here?"

-

-"Nothing to do that I know of. This is a one-horse place."

-

-"Hank, you ain't seen your father," she cried, catching at his coat

-sleeve, as he turned toward the gate.

-

-"'Pon my word, I forgot the old man. I believe I'll go in for sixty

-seconds. You say his health's better?"

-

-"Yes," said 'Tilda Jane, hurriedly, "I didn't write you that he had a

-fit not long sence, and it seemed to straighten him out. He goes to

-town on his crutches every day, an' Gippie limps after him--oh, Hank

-Dillson, Hank Dillson, I'm mos' loony about this business of your

-goin' away."

-

-Hank smiled wearily at her, and went slowly toward the house.

-

-"How long can you stay?" she asked, running after him. "How long will

-you give us?"

-

-He took out his watch, and held it close to his face. "I guess I'll

-take the eleven o'clock train. It's nine now--I thought I'd look up

-some of the boys."

-

-"Give us all the time," she said, pleadingly, "stay with your father

-an' me. Oh, promise, will you?"

-

-"All right," he said, obligingly. "I don't care if I do. I'm beat

-out, anyway."

-

-"I have to go some place, but I'll be back soon," she called after

-him, then she threw up both hands and pressed them over her ears,--a

-favourite gesture with her when she was doing hard thinking.

-

-"Mr. Waysmith or Mr. Tracy," she repeated, half aloud. "Mr. Waysmith

-or Mr. Tracy. Mr. Tracy," she said, at last, "he's most likely," and

-whirling on her heel, she flew down the path, out the gate, and into

-the street.

-

-Poacher, silent, graceful, and swift, kept close to her, but the

-battered Gippie soon gave up the chase with a howl of protest, and

-went limping home.

-

-Hank, to his surprise, had, on the whole, the most agreeable talk of

-his life with his father. The old man was altered. He had been, at

-the same time, the stiffest and the most demonstrative of parents,

-the young man reflected. There really was a remarkable change for the

-better in him, and yet, at the end of three-quarters of an hour, Hank

-got up to take his leave.

-

-They were nearly always absent from each other, they had got out of

-the way of taking an active interest in each other's concerns--there

-was not yet sufficiently firm footing and enough of it to bridge

-to the shaky background of the past, and parting would be a mutual

-relief.

-

-Yet the old man's eyes twinkled wistfully as they followed his son to

-the door. Hank had told him nothing of his troubles, yet his father

-saw that he had lost flesh, that he had not a prosperous air, and he

-acutely guessed that all was not going well with him. He would find

-out from the young girl, and with a sigh he settled back in his chair.

-

-"I'll try to come home soon again, father," said Hank, dispiritedly,

-as he looked over his shoulder before closing the bedroom door, and

-he was just shrugging his shoulders at the promise, when something

-dark and panting caught at him in the unlighted kitchen, and made him

-jump.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XXIV.

-

-A FRIEND IN NEED.

-

-

-It was 'Tilda Jane, breathing like a race-horse.

-

-"What's up with you, sissy?" he asked.

-

-She could not speak for a few seconds, then she gasped with

-difficulty, "Hank, dear old Hank, he's in there--the loveliest

-man--he's always ready to do a turn for any one--go in--tell him your

-business. I've said a little, mind what he tells you, an' you'll

-get on. He's helped lots of people. He was in the midst of a dinner

-party. He's so good--he jus' left it an' come. Go--" and she gave

-him a gentle push and sent him into the parlour, where he blinked

-his eyes alternately at the lamp on the table, and at a small, dark,

-quiet man who sat with his hat on his knee.

-

-The small man was breathing hard, as if he, too, had been walking

-fast, but on seeing Hank, he rose and stood with outstretched hand.

-

-"My name is Tracy," he said, kindly, "and I have come to this town

-since you left it, but I know your family."

-

-"I know you, too," said Hank, bluntly, "from her letters," and he

-jerked his head backward, but 'Tilda Jane, after softly closing the

-door, had disappeared.

-

-Mr. Tracy sat down again, and Hank sat opposite him. A slight and

-awkward pause ensued, broken speedily, however, by the minister.

-

-"Young man, you are in trouble."

-

-"Yes, I am that," said Hank, gruffly.

-

-"State your trouble," said the minister, kindly.

-

-Hank hesitated an instant, then his words came with a rush. "You've

-visited creameries, sir?"

-

-"I have."

-

-"Well, there's good creameries and bad creameries. A few years ago,

-when I was casting about in my mind for something to do, I got in

-with a Chicago firm known as the White Elephant firm--owing to

-so many States being spotted with their buildings, loaded on the

-farmers, and costing too much to keep up. Being a Maine man, they

-sent me to my own State. I was one of their most go-ahead sharks,

-now they've fired me to fix themselves right with the farmers. Do you

-know how they take in a community, sir?"

-

-"No, I don't."

-

-"Well, s'pose you're a shark. You navigate round among the farmers,

-and make a smother of big talk about hauling in buckets full of

-money. You get a committee to visit some creamery where the outfit

-is salted to make an extra showing. You pay the farmers' expenses,

-you offer 'em a block of stock, and up goes the creamery in their

-district with machinery from the promoting company, costing two or

-three times over what everything is worth. When the whole thing's up,

-it'll usually dawn on the minds of your stockholders that a creamery

-ain't much without cows, and their cows ain't got enough milk to pay

-for the fuel they burn. 'Way back here fifty miles, I had whipped up

-a creamery; I had a man to run the machinery, but he was a simpleton.

-He ruined the separator, it had to be sent back to the shop, an' I

-got mad with him.

-

-"Then he blabbed, told everything he knew, an' a lot he didn't,

-an' the farmers stopped counting their cows long enough to listen.

-Hasty words flew round, about fraudulent subscriptions, vitiated

-transactions, no contracts, ruined farms, going to law--an' I thought

-it was time to skip. The firm had made me stop there up to this, an'

-as soon as I ran, they bounced me--I'm all played out here, sir. My

-native State bids me farewell!"

-

-Hank suddenly ceased speaking, his head dropped on his breast, yet

-before it did so, he shot one appealing, hopeful glance at his

-listener. Despite his "don't-care" tone, and off-hand manner, it was

-plainly to be seen that he felt himself in trouble, and knew that

-there was one at hand who would help him.

-

-"You've been in a poor business," observed Mr. Tracy, quietly. "You

-want to quit it?"

-

-"Yes, sir," said Hank, meekly.

-

-"Listen then--" and his companion in his turn began to speak rapidly.

-

-'Tilda Jane, flying about the house, sent many an anxious thought to

-the closed parlour. What was the minister saying to Hank? Would Hank

-talk to him freely?

-

-"O Lord! Lord! Lord!" she cried, suddenly stopping and raising her

-clasped hands to the ceiling, "do make his heart soft--soft as mush,

-an' don't let him be sassy. The minister is smooth an' nice, an' he

-would stand sass, but it's awful bad for Hank. He's got to sober

-down. O Lord, make him solemn--jus' like an owl!"

-

-She dashed a tear from the corner of her eye, and went on with her

-occupation of wrapping various articles in a red handkerchief.

-

-When the parlour door opened, she ran to the front hall, and as Mr.

-Tracy passed her, she caught his hand and pressed it fervently.

-

-He said nothing, but smiling with the more than earthly sweetness of

-one who truly loved his fellow men, he hurried back to his deserted

-guests.

-

-Hank followed close at his heels, and as he stood in the hall

-doorway, looking already straighter and taller, he smiled

-patronisingly down at 'Tilda Jane.

-

-"You're a mighty fine girl, sissy, how old are you now?"

-

-"Thirteen o'clock las' week--struck fourteen this--oh, what did the

-minister say?"

-

-Hank thumped his chest. "He's got me a situation, sissy,--a situation

-that means bread and butter for you and father, and maybe cake and

-jam."

-

-The little girl locked her hands in intense excitement. "Where, Hank,

-oh, where?"

-

-"Here, sissy."

-

-"In Ciscasset?"

-

-"Yes."

-

-'Tilda Jane suppressed a scream. "An' you can live at home?"

-

-"Well, I rather guess so."

-

-'Tilda Jane's pleasure was too deep for words. She stood gaping

-speechlessly at him.

-

-Hank, in high good humour, beamed benevolently on the orphan girl as

-she stood beside him. "What are you sticking your head up an down for

-like a chicken taking a drink?" he said at last.

-

-"Hank, I'm givin' thanks," she said, reverently, "givin' thanks that

-you've got led out of that roguey business."

-

-"I'll not get into anything of that kind again, sissy," he said,

-with a shamefaced air. "You may just be sure of that. I've had a

-great talk with that friend of yours--and sissy, I'm obliged to you."

-

-There was a queer break in his voice. An end had suddenly come to his

-troubles. He would now be in the way of earning an honest living. And

-it would be a pleasure to live with his father and this young girl

-who would look up to him and admire him.

-

-"Sissy," he said, abruptly, "where do you think my new berth is?"

-

-"I don't know--oh, tell me quick."

-

-"In the Waysmith lumber mill. Mr. Waysmith offered a place to your

-friend Tracy to-day for some young man, and I'm the young man."

-

-"With the Waysmiths?" murmured 'Tilda Jane, "where your father used

-to be?"

-

-"The same, sissy."

-

-'Tilda Jane could stand no more. "O Lord, I thank thee!" she cried,

-with a burst of tears, and running into the kitchen, she buried her

-face in the roller towel hanging on a door.

-

-Hank sauntered after her, and on his way stumbled over a bundle done

-up in a spotted red handkerchief. He stooped down, picked it up,

-and opened it. It contained a few lumps of sugar, a Bible, a pair

-of socks, two handkerchiefs, half a loaf of cake, and fifty cents

-wrapped in a piece of newspaper.

-

-"My travelling kit," he murmured; "well, if she ain't the best little

-creature!"

-

-"Hello, 'Tilda!" he called out; "stop that whimpering, and come and

-tell grampa the news."

-

-The little girl hastily dried her face on the towel, and ran into the

-bedroom where grampa sat surveying them in bewilderment from the edge

-of his bed. Some time ago he had come to his room with the intention

-of undressing. His son's visit had upset him, and he had been sitting

-confusedly listening to the scraps of conversation he caught from

-different parts of the house.

-

-"Grampa, grampa!" cried 'Tilda Jane, running in, and excitedly waving

-her hands, "Hank's goin' to live at home with you, an' me, an' the

-dogs. We'll be a real family. Oh, ain't it lovely, ain't it lovely?"

-and catching hold of her skirts she began a sidling and peculiar

-dance about the room.

-

-Hank laughed till the tears came into his eyes. 'Tilda Jane was good,

-but she was not graceful. Then his merriment over, he began to yawn,

-and 'Tilda Jane, as keen of observation as ever, immediately espied

-this sign of fatigue.

-

-She caught up Gippie, who alone showed no pleasure at the prospect of

-having another inmate of the house, and danced out to the kitchen.

-

-"Come out, grampa dear," she called, "we'll all have a good supper,

-'cause this is a most joyful 'casion."

-

-As grampa started to limp out to the kitchen, Hank quietly placed

-himself by his side.

-

-The old man looked at him. "I'm not sorry you're going to stay," he

-remarked, gruffly. "They say there's no place like home."

-

-"You'd better believe that's true, father," said Hank, warmly; "a

-fellow gets sick of hotels and boarding-houses. We'll have some more

-funds now that I'm going to get at some decent kind of work. You

-mustn't bother your head about expenses."

-

-The old man sank into his chair with a sigh of relief. His face was

-working strangely. Last year at this time he was alone and miserable

-in a cheerless house. Now his son was with him, a brisk young girl

-was flying about his kitchen, a bright fire burned in the stove, a

-fire that was not unpleasantly warm to his aged limbs even on this

-summer night. A white cloth covered his formerly bare and uninviting

-table; he was going to have pie, and coffee, and toast and cake for

-supper,--surely the coming of this orphan had been a fortunate thing

-for him, and he slowly chafed his hands as he gazed at the glowing

-bed of coals.

-

-Hank was following 'Tilda Jane from kitchen to pantry, and from

-pantry to kitchen.

-

-"You're getting to be a great housekeeper," he said, admiringly; "but

-we must not forget the schooling. It's a great thing to be educated.

-You can't hold your own in this world unless you know something. You

-wrote me Mrs. Tracy was teaching you some, didn't you?"

-

-'Tilda Jane paused as she filled a sugar-bowl.

-

-"Yes, three evenin's a week. She's a boss--I mean a good teacher. I

-learned some at the 'sylum,--no, the asylum, when I warn't--no, when

-I werent'--no, when I wasn't in the kitchen. And grampa talks to me

-some. He's a fine scholar."

-

-"That's good--get all you can; but three evenings a week ain't

-enough. As soon as I can compass it, I'll have some one to take care

-of father daytimes, and let you go to school."

-

-"To school!" said the little girl, "to learn more--to know how to

-speak proper! Oh, oh, I'm mos' too happy to live! Hank Dillson,

-I think you're the mos' beautiful man that was ever made!" and,

-dropping her sugar-bowl on the shelf, she seized a hand of the

-ex-creamery shark, and warmly pressed it between her little lean

-palms.

-

-Hank, in some embarrassment, murmured, "Oh, fudge, I'm not as good as

-the next one."

-

-"You're a million times better!" exclaimed 'Tilda Jane. "Oh, what

-a glad man Mr. Waysmith will be to have you in his mill! Come now,

-let's have supper. Dear ole grampa mus' get to bed. You wouldn't like

-to kill him with joy the first night you're home."

-

-A few minutes later 'Tilda Jane was beaming behind the big

-coffee-pot. At last she had become a member of a really happy

-family. Her dogs were stretched luxuriously on their rag mat by the

-stove, Grampa, calm and quiet, was sipping his coffee, and listening

-to some of Hank's travelling adventures.

-

-She could not contain her delight. Her heart was too full, and

-presently she burst into low, irrepressible laughter.

-

-Her companions stopped talking and stared at her.

-

-"Oh, I can't help it!" she exclaimed, wildly, "I feel as if I'd

-come through a big sea of troubles to reach the promised land! I'm

-crazy--I'm crazy!" and too excited to keep still she pushed her chair

-aside, and rocked back and forth on her feet.

-

-She saw stretching before her a long vista of happy years--the sight

-was almost too much for her, yet even in her ecstasy she thought of

-other children less fortunate.

-

-"Hank, brother Hank!" she called suddenly, "the Tracys say to pass

-on blessings. All the world ain't joyful like us. When you make a

-little money will you let me write to the lady-boards for another

-orphan,--the ugliest little orphan they've got,--worse than me, if

-it's not unpossible."

-

-"You just write it down that I will," said Hank, gazing kindly and

-benevolently at her flushed face.

-

-"We'll do it," cried 'Tilda Jane. "We'll be good to that other

-orphan. I know they'll have one, but how can I wait? What shall I do?

-I mus' hug some one, I'm so happy!"

-

-She flashed a glance at the dogs. They were sleepy and comfortable.

-"Grampa, I guess it'll have to be you," she said, gaily, and, running

-to the old man, she threw her arms around his wrinkled neck, kissed

-his bald head, and fulfilled her promise of a hugging so vigorously

-that at last he called for mercy.

-

-"Now, I'll go take something," she said, demurely, and, with a last

-caress, "you darlin' ole grampa--I could eat you--Lord, give me a

-thankful heart for all these mercies," then, reverently bending her

-head over her plate, she took up her knife and fork with a long and

-happy sigh.

-

-

-  THE END.

-

-

-

-

-L. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S

-

-Cosy Corner Series

-

-OF

-

-Charming Juveniles

-

-

-Each one volume, 16mo, cloth, Illustrated, 50 cents

-

-

-  =Ole Mammy's Torment.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.

-  Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.

-

-  =The Little Colonel.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.

-  Author of "Big Brother."

-

-  =Big Brother.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.

-  Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.

-

-  =The Gate of the Giant Scissors.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.

-  Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.

-

-  =Two Little Knights of Kentucky,= who were "The Little Colonel's"

-  neighbors. By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.

-  A sequel to "The Little Colonel."

-

-  =The Story of Dago.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.

-  Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.

-

-  =Farmer Brown and the Birds.= By FRANCES MARGARET FOX. A little

-  story which teaches children that the birds are man's best

-  friends.

-

-  =Story of a Short Life.= By JULIANA HORATIA EWING.

-  This beautiful and pathetic story is a part of the world's

-  literature and will never die.

-

-  =Jackanapes.= By JULIANA HORATIA EWING.

-  A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite and

-  touching story, dear alike to young and old.

-

-  =The Little Lame Prince.= By MISS MULOCK.

-  A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by

-  means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.

-

-  =The Adventures of a Brownie.= By MISS MULOCK.

-  The story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener,

-  but is a constant joy and delight to the children.

-

-  =His Little Mother.= By MISS MULOCK.

-  Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant source

-  of delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in this new and

-  attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts of readers.

-

-  =Little Sunshine's Holiday.= By MISS MULOCK.

-  "Little Sunshine" is another of those beautiful child-characters

-  for which Miss Mulock is so justly famous.

-

-  =Wee Dorothy.= By LAURA UPDEGRAFF.

-  A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the

-  eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme.

-

-  =Rab and His Friends.= By Dr. JOHN BROWN.

-  Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known to need

-  description.

-

-  =The Water People.= By CHARLES LEE SLEIGHT.

-  Relating the further adventures of "Harry," the little hero of

-  "The Prince of the Pin Elves."

-

-  =The Prince of the Pin Elves.= By CHAS. LEE SLEIGHT.

-  A fascinating story of the underground adventures of a sturdy,

-  reliant American boy among the elves and gnomes.

-

-  =Helena's Wonderworld.= By FRANCES HODGES WHITE.

-  A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in the

-  mysterious regions beneath the sea.

-

-  =For His Country.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS.

-  A beautiful story of a patriotic little American lad.

-

-  =A Little Puritan's First Christmas.= By EDITH ROBINSON.

-

-  =A Little Daughter of Liberty.= By EDITH ROBINSON.

-  Author of "A Loyal Little Maid," "A Little Puritan Rebel," etc.

-  A true story of the Revolution.

-

-  =A Little Puritan Rebel.= By EDITH ROBINSON.

-  An historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the

-  gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.

-

-  =A Loyal Little Maid.= By EDITH ROBINSON.

-  A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in

-  which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important

-  services to George Washington and Alexander Hamilton.

-

-  =A Dog of Flanders.= A CHRISTMAS STORY. By LOUISE DE LA RAMÉE

-  (Ouida).

-

-  =The Nurnberg Stove.= By LOUISE DE LA RAMÉE (Ouida).

-  This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular

-  price.

-

-  =The King of the Golden River.= A LEGEND OF STIRIA. By JOHN

-  RUSKIN.

-  Written fifty years or more ago, this little fairy tale soon

-  became known and made a place for itself.

-

-  =La Belle Nivernaise.= THE STORY OF AN OLD BOAT AND HER CREW. By

-  ALPHONSE DAUDET.

-  It has been out of print for some time, and is now offered in

-  cheap but dainty form in this new edition.

-

-  =The Young King.= =The Star Child.=

-  Two stories chosen from a recent volume by a gifted author, on

-  account of their rare beauty, great power, and deep significance.

-

-  =A Great Emergency.= By MRS. EWING.

-

-  =The Trinity Flower.= By JULIANA HORATIA EWING.

-  In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. Ewing's best

-  short stories for the young people.

-

-  =The Adventures of Beatrice and Jessie.= By RICHARD MANSFIELD.

-  A bright and amusing story of the strange adventures of two

-  little girls in the "realms of unreality."

-

-  =A Child's Garden of Verses.= By R. L. STEVENSON.

-  This little classic is undoubtedly the best of all volumes of

-  poetry for children.

-

-  =Little King Davie.= By NELLIE HELLIS.

-  It is sufficient to say of this book that it has sold over

-  110,000 copies in England, and consequently should well be worthy

-  of a place in "The Cosy Corner Series."

-

-  =Little Peterkin Vandike.= By CHARLES STUART PRATT.

-  The author's dedication furnishes a key to this charming story.

-  "I dedicate this book, made for the amusement of the boys who may

-  read it, to the memory of one boy, who would have enjoyed as much

-  as Peterkin the plays of the Poetry Party."

-

-  =The Making of Zimri Bunker.= A TALE OF NANTUCKET. By W. J. LONG.

-  The story deals with a sturdy American fisher lad during the war

-  of 1812.

-

-  =The Fortunes of the Fellow.= By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE. A sequel

-  to "The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow."

-

-  =The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.= By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE.

-  This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, will

-  appeal to all that is best in the natures of her many admirers.

-

-  =The Sleeping Beauty.= A MODERN VERSION. By MARTHA B. DUNN.

-  A charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, intellectually

-  "asleep," until she meets the "Fairy Prince."

-

-  =The Young Archer.= By CHARLES E. BRIMBLECOM.

-  A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied Columbus on

-  his voyage to the New World.

-

-

-

-

-NEW JUVENILES

-

-

-Our Devoted Friend

-

-the Dog

-

-BY SARAH K. BOLTON

-

-AUTHOR OF "GIRLS WHO HAVE BECOME FAMOUS," ETC.

-

-_Fully illustrated with many reproductions from original photographs._

-

-1 vol., small quarto, $1.50

-

-

-This book of the dog and his friends does for the canine member of

-the household what Helen M. Winslow's book, "Concerning Cats," did

-for the feline. No one who cares for dogs--and that class includes

-nearly all who do not care for cats, and some who do--will admit that

-the subject of Mrs. Bolton's book is a less felicitous choice than

-that of its predecessor; while the author's well-known ability as a

-writer and lecturer, as well as her sympathy with her subject, are a

-sufficient guarantee of a happy treatment.

-

-

-SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.

-

-

-

-

-NEW JUVENILES

-

-

-THE

-

-Rosamond Tales

-

-BY CUYLER REYNOLDS

-

-_With many full-page illustrations from original photographs by

-the author, together with a frontispiece from a drawing by Maud

-Humphreys._

-

-Large 12mo, cloth, $1.50

-

-

-These are just the bedtime stories that children always ask for, but

-do not always get. Rosamond and Rosalind are the hero and heroine

-of many happy adventures in town and on their grandfather's farm;

-and the happy listeners to their story will unconsciously absorb a

-vast amount of interesting knowledge of birds, animals, and flowers,

-just the things about which the curiosity of children from four to

-twelve years old is most insatiable. The book will be a boon to tired

-mothers, as a delight to wide-awake children.

-

-

-SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.

-

-

-

-

-NEW JUVENILES

-

-

-THE

-

-Little Cousin Series

-

-BY MARY F. WADE

-

-Four volumes, each illustrated, cloth, 12mo, 60 cents

-

-  VOLUME I.

-  Our Little Japanese Cousin

-

-  VOLUME II.

-  Our Little Brown Cousin

-

-  VOLUME III.

-  Our Little Indian Cousin

-

-  VOLUME IV.

-  Our Little Russian Cousin

-

-

-These are the most interesting and delightful accounts possible of

-child-life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings and

-adventures. The "Little Japanese Cousin," with her toys in her wide

-sleeve and her tiny bag of paper handkerchiefs; the "Little Brown

-Cousin," in whose home the leaves of the breadfruit-tree serve for

-plates and the halves of the cocoanut shells for cups; the "Little

-Indian Cousin," who lives the free life of the forest, and the

-"Little Russian Cousin," who dwells by the wintry Neva, are truly

-fascinating characters to the little cousins who will read about them.

-

-

-SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.

-

-

-

-

-NEW JUVENILES

-

-

-THE

-

-Cosy Corner Series

-

-A SERIES OF CHARMING ILLUSTRATED JUVENILES BY WELL-KNOWN AUTHORS

-

-We shall issue ten new volumes in this well-known series of child

-classics, and announce three as follows:

-

-

-A Little Puritan Pioneer

-

-BY EDITH ROBINSON

-

-Author of "A Loyal Little Maid," "A Little Puritan's First

-Christmas," etc.

-

-

-Madam Liberality

-

-BY MRS. EWING

-

-Author of "Jackanapes," "A Great Emergency," "Story of a Short Life,"

-etc., etc.

-

-

-A Bad Penny

-

-BY JOHN T. WHEELWRIGHT

-

-

-The other seven will include new stories by Louise de la Ramée, Miss

-Mulock, Nellie Hellis, Will Allen Dromgoole, etc., etc.

-

-_Forty-four volumes previously published_

-

-

-SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.

-

-

-

-

-Selections from

-

-L. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S

-

-Books for Young People

-

-

-  =Old Father Gander:= OR, THE BETTER-HALF OF MOTHER GOOSE. RHYMES,

-  CHIMES, AND JINGLES scratched from his own goose-quill for

-  American Goslings. Illustrated with impossible Geese, hatched and

-  raised by WALTER SCOTT HOWARD.

-

-  1 vol., oblong quarto, cloth decorative      $2.00

-

-  The illustrations are so striking and fascinating that the

-  book will appeal to the young people aside from the fact even

-  of the charm and humor of the songs and rhymes. There are

-  thirty-two full-page plates, of which many are in color. The

-  color illustrations are a distinct and successful departure from

-  the old-fashioned lithographic work hitherto invariably used for

-  children's books.

-

-  =The Crock of Gold:= A NEW BOOK OF FAIRY TALES. By S. BARING

-  GOULD.

-

-  Author of "Mehalah," "Old Country Life," "Old English Fairy

-  Tales," etc. With twenty-five full-page illustrations by F. D.

-  Bedford.

-

-  1 vol., tall 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top      $1.50

-

-  This volume will prove a source of delight to the children of two

-  continents, answering their always increasing demand for "more

-  fairy stories."

-

-  =Shireen and Her Friends:= THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A PERSIAN CAT. By

-  GORDON STABLES.

-

-  Illustrated by Harrison Weir.

-

-  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative      $1.25

-

-  A more charming book about animals Dr. Stables himself has not

-  written. It is similar in character to "Black Beauty," "Beautiful

-  Joe," and other books which teach us to love and protect the dumb

-  animals.

-

-  =Bully, Fag, and Hero.= By CHARLES J. MANSFORD.

-

-  With six full-page illustrations by S. H. Vedder.

-

-  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top      $1.50

-

-  An interesting story of schoolboy life and adventure in school

-  and during the holidays.

-

-  =The Adventures of a Boy Reporter= IN THE PHILIPPINES. By HARRY

-  STEELE MORRISON.

-

-  Author of "A Yankee Boy's Success."

-

-  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated      $1.25

-

-  A true story of the courage and enterprise of an American lad. It

-  is a splendid boys' book, filled with healthy interest, and will

-  tend to stimulate and encourage the proper ambition of the young

-  reader.

-

-  =Tales Told in the Zoo.= By F. C. GOULD.

-

-  With many illustrations from original drawings.

-

-  1 vol., large quarto      $2.00

-

-  A new book for young people on entirely original lines.

-

-  The tales are supposed to be told by an old adjutant stork in

-  the Zoological Gardens to the assembled birds located there, and

-  they deal with legendary and folk-lore stories of the origins of

-  various creatures, mostly birds, and their characteristics.

-

-  =Philip:= THE STORY OF A BOY VIOLINIST. By T. W. O.

-

-  1 vol., 12mo, cloth      $1.00

-

-  The life-story of a boy, reared among surroundings singular

-  enough to awaken interest at the start, is described by the

-  present author as it could be described only by one thoroughly

-  familiar with the scene. The reader is carried from the cottages

-  of the humblest coal-miners into the realms of music and art; and

-  the _finale_ of this charming tale is a masterpiece of pathetic

-  interest.

-

-  =Black Beauty:= THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A HORSE. By ANNA SEWELL.

-  _New Illustrated Edition._

-

-  With twenty-five full-page drawings by Winifred Austin.

-

-  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top      $1.25

-

-  There have been many editions of this classic, but we confidently

-  offer this one as the most appropriate and handsome yet produced.

-  The illustrations are of special value and beauty, and should

-  make this the standard edition wherever illustrations worthy of

-  the story are desired.

-

-  =The Voyage of the Avenger:= IN THE DAYS OF THE DASHING DRAKE. By

-  HENRY ST. JOHN.

-

-  Author of "A Middy of Nelson's Day," etc. With twenty-five

-  full-page illustrations by Paul Hardy.

-

-  1 vol., tall 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 400 pages      $1.50

-

-  A book of adventure, the scene of which is laid in that stirring

-  period of colonial extension when England's famous naval heroes

-  encountered the ships of Spain, both at home and in the West

-  Indies. Mr. St. John has given his boy readers a rattling good

-  story of the sea. There is plenty of adventure, sufficient in

-  fact to keep a boy fixed near the fireside until the last page is

-  reached.

-

-  =A Child's History of Spain.= By LEONARD WILLIAMS.

-

-  Author of "Ballads and Songs of Spain," etc.

-

-  1 vol., small 12mo, with frontispiece, cloth, gilt top      $0.75

-

-  Although the recent war with Spain has aroused general interest

-  and caused a great demand for literature relating to the subject,

-  there has not as yet been published a condensed history of

-  Spain for young people. Mr. Williams's little book will prove a

-  desirable addition to the children's historical library.

-

-  =Fairy Folk from Far and Near.= By A. C. WOOLF, M. A.

-

-  With numerous full-page color illustrations by Hans Reitz.

-

-  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative      $1.50

-

-  It is long since there has appeared such a thoroughly delightful

-  volume of fairy tales as that of Annie C. Woolf. An added

-  attraction to the book is found in the exquisite colored

-  illustrations, the work of Hans Reitz. As a Christmas gift-book

-  to children, these tales will be hard to excel.

-

-  =The Magnet Stories.= By LYNDE PALMER.

-

-  A new edition; new binding and larger size volume, 5 vols., 12mo.

-  Reduced price.

-

-  Drifting and Steering      $1.00

-  One Day's Weaving           1.00

-  Archie's Shadow             1.00

-  John-Jack                   1.00

-  Jeannette's Cisterns        1.00

-

-

-

-

-NEW JUVENILES

-

-

-THE

-

-Woodranger Tales

-

-  VOLUME III.

-  The Hero of the Hills

-  BY G. WALDO BROWNE

-

-  VOLUME I.

-  The Woodranger

-  BY G. WALDO BROWNE

-

-  VOLUME II.

-  The Young Gunbearer

-  BY G. WALDO BROWNE

-

-Each large 12mo, cloth, fully illustrated, $1.00

-

-

-There is the reality of history behind these stories, the successful

-series of "Woodranger Tales," the scope and trend of which are

-accurately set forth in the title. While full of adventure, the

-interest in which sometimes rises to the pitch of excitement, the

-stories are not sensational, for Mr. Browne writes with dignity, if

-with liveliness. The books will not fail to interest any lively,

-wholesome-minded boy.

-

-

-SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.

-

-

-

-

-NEW JUVENILES

-

-

-Prince Harold

-

-A FAIRY STORY

-

-BY L. F. BROWN

-

-_With ninety full-page illustrations_

-

-Large 12mo, cloth, $1.50

-

-

-A delightful fairy tale for children, dealing with the life of a

-charming young Prince, who, aided by the Moon Spirit, discovers,

-after many adventures, a beautiful girl whom he makes his Princess.

-He is so enamored that he dwells with his bride in complete seclusion

-for a while, entrusting the conduct of his kingdom meantime to his

-monkey servant, Longtail. The latter marries a monkey princess from

-Amfalulu, and their joint reign is described with the drollest humor.

-The real rulers finally return and upset the reign of the pretenders.

-An original and fascinating story for young people.

-

-

-SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.

-

-

-

-

-L. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S

-

-Gift Book Series

-

-FOR

-

-Boys and Girls

-

-

-Each one volume, tall 12mo, cloth, Illustrated, $1.00

-

-

-  =The Little Colonel's House Party.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.

-

-  Author of "Little Colonel," etc. Illustrated by E. B. Barry.

-

-  Mrs. Johnston has endeared herself to the children by her

-  charming little books published in the Cosy Corner Series.

-  Accordingly, a longer story by her will be eagerly welcomed by

-  the little ones who have so much enjoyed each story from her pen.

-

-  =Chums.= By MARIA LOUISE POOL.

-

-  Author of "Little Bermuda," etc. Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman.

-

-  "Chums" is a girls' book, about girls and for girls. It relates

-  the adventures, in school, and during vacation, of two friends.

-

-  =Three Little Crackers.= FROM DOWN IN DIXIE. By WILL ALLEN

-  DROMGOOLE.

-

-  Author of "The Farrier's Dog." A fascinating story for boys and

-  girls, of the adventures of a family of Alabama children who move

-  to Florida and grow up in the South.

-

-  =Miss Gray's Girls:= OR, SUMMER DAYS IN THE SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS.

-  By JEANNETTE A. GRANT.

-

-  A delightfully told story of a summer trip through Scotland,

-  somewhat out of the beaten track. A teacher, starting at Glasgow,

-  takes a lively party of girls, her pupils, through the Trossachs

-  to Oban, through the Caledonian Canal to Inverness, and as far

-  north as Brora.

-

-  =King Pippin:= A STORY FOR CHILDREN. By MRS. GERARD FORD.

-

-  Author of "Pixie."

-

-  One of the most charming books for young folks which has been

-  issued for some time. The hero is a lovable little fellow, whose

-  frank and winning ways disarm even the crustiest of grandmothers,

-  and win for him the affection of all manner of unlikely people.

-

-  =Feats on the Fiord:= A TALE OF NORWEGIAN LIFE. By HARRIET

-  MARTINEAU.

-

-  This admirable book, read and enjoyed by so many young people,

-  deserves to be brought to the attention of parents in search of

-  wholesome reading for their children to-day. It is something more

-  than a juvenile book, being really one of the most instructive

-  books about Norway and Norwegian life and manners ever written.

-

-  =Songs and Rhymes for the Little Ones.= Compiled by MARY WHITNEY

-  MORRISON (Jenny Wallis).

-

-  New edition, with an introduction by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney.

-

-  No better description of this admirable book can be given than

-  Mrs. Whitney's happy introduction:

-

-  "One might almost as well offer June roses with the assurance

-  of their sweetness, as to present this lovely little gathering

-  of verse, which announces itself, like them, by its own

-  deliciousness. Yet, as Mrs. Morrison's charming volume has long

-  been a delight to me, I am only too happy to declare that it

-  is to me--and to two families of my grandchildren--the most

-  bewitching book of songs for little people that we have ever

-  known."

-

-  =The Young Pearl Divers:= A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN ADVENTURE BY LAND

-  AND BY SEA. By LIEUT. H. PHELPS WHITMARSH.

-

-  This is a splendid story for boys, by an author who writes in

-  vigorous and interesting language, of scenes and adventures with

-  which he is personally acquainted.

-

-  =The Woodranger.= By G. WALDO BROWNE.

-

-  The first of a series of five volumes entitled "The Woodranger

-  Tales."

-

-  Although based strictly on historical facts the book is an

-  interesting and exciting tale of adventure, which will delight

-  all boys, and be by no means unwelcome to their elders.

-

-  =Three Children of Galilee:= A LIFE OF CHRIST FOR THE YOUNG. By

-  JOHN GORDON.

-

-  There has long been a need for a Life of Christ for the young,

-  and this book has been written in answer to this demand. That it

-  will meet with great favor is beyond question, for parents have

-  recognized that their boys and girls want something more than a

-  Bible story, a dry statement of facts, and that, in order to hold

-  the attention of the youthful readers, a book on this subject

-  should have life and movement as well as scrupulous accuracy and

-  religious sentiment.

-

-  =Little Bermuda.= By MARIA LOUISE POOL.

-

-  Author of "Dally," "A Redbridge Neighborhood," "In a Dike

-  Shanty," "Friendship and Folly," etc.

-

-  The adventures of "Little Bermuda" from her home in the tropics

-  to a fashionable American boarding-school. The resulting conflict

-  between the two elements in her nature, the one inherited from

-  her New England ancestry, and the other developed by her West

-  Indian surroundings, gave Miss Pool unusual opportunity for

-  creating an original and fascinating heroine.

-

-  =The Wild Ruthvens:= A HOME STORY. By CURTIS YORK.

-

-  A story illustrating the mistakes, failures, and successes of

-  a family of unruly but warm-hearted boys and girls. They are

-  ultimately softened and civilized by the influence of an invalid

-  cousin, Dick Trevanion, who comes to live with them.

-

-  =The Adventures of a Siberian Cub.= Translated from the Russian

-  of Slibitski by LEON GOLSCHMANN.

-

-  This is indeed a book which will be hailed with delight,

-  especially by children who love to read about animals. The

-  interesting and pathetic adventures of the orphan-bear, Mishook,

-  will appeal to old and young in much the same way as have "Black

-  Beauty" and "Beautiful Joe."

-

-  =Timothy Dole.= By JUNIATA SALSBURY.

-

-  The youthful hero, and a genuine hero he proves to be, starts

-  from home, loses his way, meets with startling adventures, finds

-  friends, kind and many, and grows to be a manly man. It is a

-  wholesome and vigorous book, that boys and girls, and parents as

-  well, will read and enjoy.

-

-

-

-

-  TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

-

-  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

-

-  Bold text is denoted by =equal signs=.

-

-  Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been

-  corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within

-  the text and consultation of external sources.

-

-  Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,

-  and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. For example:

-  writing-pad, writing pad; cocoanut; curtsey; beshawled.

-

-  Pg 38, 'Onct our washerwoman' replaced by 'Once our washerwoman'.

-  Pg 38, 'Onct I took' replaced by 'Once I took'.

-  Pg 42, 'Onct when cats come' replaced by 'Once when cats come'.

-  Pg 90, 'dare the undarable' replaced by 'dare the undareable'.

-  Pg 163, 'only onct a day?' replaced by 'only once a day?'.

-  Pg 180, 'onct have blue eyes' replaced by 'once have blue eyes'.

-  Pg 269, "You mus' he" replaced by "You mus' be".

-

-  Publisher's Book Catalog:

-  In the Cosy Corner Series, 'and announce four' replaced by 'and

-  announce three'.

-

-  A page from 'Gift Series for Boys and Girls' has been moved to its

-  proper position at the end of that section. This page described

-  'Three Children of Galilee' through 'Timothy Dole'.

-

-

-

-

-

-End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of 'Tilda Jane, by Marshall Saunders

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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of 'Tilda Jane, by Marshall Saunders
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
+
+
+Title: 'Tilda Jane
+       An Orphan in Search of a Home
+
+Author: Marshall Saunders
+
+Illustrator: Clifford Carleton
+
+Release Date: May 7, 2016 [EBook #52018]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 'TILDA JANE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, John Campbell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
+
+  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
+
+  Bold text is denoted by =equal signs=.
+
+  Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
+  corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
+  the text and consultation of external sources.
+
+  More detail can be found at the end of the book.
+
+
+
+
+'TILDA JANE
+
+
+
+
+Works of
+
+Marshall Saunders
+
+
+  Rose à Charlitte
+  Her Sailor
+  Deficient Saints
+  For His Country and Grandmother and the Crow
+  'Tilda Jane
+
+
+  L. C. PAGE & COMPANY,
+  Publishers
+  200 Summer Street, Boston, Mass.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE SPELLED OUT THE INFORMATION, 'I AM AN ORPHAN.'"
+  (_See page 80_)]
+
+
+
+
+  'TILDA JANE
+
+  AN ORPHAN IN SEARCH OF A HOME
+
+  _A Story for Boys and Girls_
+
+  BY
+  MARSHALL SAUNDERS
+  AUTHOR OF "BEAUTIFUL JOE," "FOR HIS COUNTRY,"
+  "ROSE À CHARLITTE," "HER SAILOR,"
+  "DEFICIENT SAINTS," ETC.
+
+  Illustrated by
+  CLIFFORD CARLETON
+  _By courtesy of The Youth's Companion_
+
+  "My brother, when thou seest a poor man,
+  behold in him a mirror of the Lord."
+  --ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI.
+
+  [Illustration: (publisher's colophon)]
+
+  BOSTON
+  L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+  1901
+
+
+
+
+  _Copyright, 1901_
+  BY PERRY MASON COMPANY
+
+  _Copyright, 1901_
+  BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+  (Incorporated)
+
+  _All rights reserved_
+
+
+  Colonial Press
+  Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+  Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+  I DEDICATE THIS STORY TO
+  EMILE HUGUENIN, JEAN BRUN,
+  GERALD MUIR, SANFORD ROTHENBURG,
+  HARRY KRUGER, MAUGHS BROWN,
+  AND
+  ROBBIE MACLEAN,
+  BOYS OF BELMONT SCHOOL WHO USED TO GATHER ROUND ME
+  ON SUNDAY AFTERNOONS AND BEG FOR A MANUSCRIPT
+  READING OF THE TRIALS OF MY ORPHAN
+  IN SEARCH OF A HOME.
+
+
+
+
+  _Owing to the exigencies of serial publication, the story of
+  "'Tilda Jane," as it appeared in The Youth's Companion, was
+  somewhat condensed. In the present version the omitted portions
+  have been restored, and the story published in its original form._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                    PAGE
+
+  I.     A CREAMERY SHARK                      11
+
+  II.    EVEN SHARKS HAVE TENDER HEARTS        26
+
+  III.   THE STORY OF HER LIFE                 36
+
+  IV.    UNSTABLE AS WATER                     50
+
+  V.     ANOTHER ADVENTURE                     61
+
+  VI.    DEAF AND DUMB                         75
+
+  VII.   CLEARING UP A MISTAKE                 85
+
+  VIII.  A THIRD RUNNING AWAY                  94
+
+  IX.    LOST IN THE WOODS                    107
+
+  X.     AMONG FRIENDS                        121
+
+  XI.    A SUDDEN RESOLUTION                  136
+
+  XII.   FAREWELL TO THE POACHERS             151
+
+  XIII.  AN ATTEMPTED TRICK                   164
+
+  XIV.   HOME, SWEET HOME                     171
+
+  XV.    THE FRENCH FAMILY                    186
+
+  XVI.   THE TIGER IN HIS LAIR                194
+
+  XVII.  THE TIGER MAKES A SPRING             206
+
+  XVIII. IN SEARCH OF A PERFECT MAN           217
+
+  XIX.   SWEET AND SOFT REPENTANCE            230
+
+  XX.    WAITING                              240
+
+  XXI.   THE TIGER BECOMES A LAMB             246
+
+  XXII.  A TROUBLED MIND                      257
+
+  XXIII. AN UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE             266
+
+  XXIV.  A FRIEND IN NEED                     275
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
+
+
+                                                    PAGE
+
+  "SHE SPELLED OUT THE INFORMATION, 'I AM AN
+  ORPHAN'" (_See page 80_)                _Frontispiece_
+
+  "'WELL, I VUM!'"                                    15
+
+  "'TILDA JANE SAT LIKE A STATUE"                     45
+
+  "'I'M GOIN' TO REPENT SOME DAY'"                    92
+
+  "HE LAY DOWN BESIDE HER"                           116
+
+  "'STOP THAR--STOP! STOP!'"                         168
+
+  "'YOU ARE YOUNG FOR THAT, _MADEMOISELLE_,
+  YET--'"                                            190
+
+  "HE LIFTED UP HIS VOICE AND ROARED AT HER"         215
+
+  "'I'VE LED ANOTHER DOG ASTRAY, AN' NOW HE'S
+  DEAD'"                                             235
+
+  "'THEY WAS GLAD TO GET RID OF ME'"                 258
+
+
+
+
+'TILDA JANE.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A CREAMERY SHARK.
+
+
+The crows had come back. With the fashionables of Maine they had gone
+south for the winter, but now on the third day of March the advance
+guard of the solemn, black army soared in sight.
+
+They were cawing over the green pine woods of North Marsden, they
+were cawing over the black spruces of South Marsden, and in Middle
+Marsden, where the sun had melted the snow on a few exposed knolls,
+they were having a serious and chattering jubilation over their
+return to their summer haunts.
+
+"Land! ain't they sweet!" muttered a little girl, who was herself
+almost as elfish and impish as a crow. She stood with clasped hands
+in the midst of a spruce thicket. Her face was upturned to the hot
+sun set in the hard blue of the sky. The sun burned her, the wind
+chilled her, but she remained motionless, except when the sound of
+sleigh-bells was heard. Then she peered eagerly out into the road.
+
+Time after time she returned to her hiding-place with a muttered,
+"No good!" She allowed a priest to go by, two gossiping women on
+their way from the village to spend a day in the country, a minister
+hurrying to the sick-bed of a parishioner, and several loaded
+wood-sleds, but finally a hilarious jingle drew her hopefully from
+her retreat.
+
+Her small black eyes screwed themselves into two glittering points as
+she examined the newcomer.
+
+"He'll do!" she ejaculated; then, with a half-caressing,
+half-threatening, "You'll get murdered if there's a word out o' you,"
+addressed to an apparent roll of cloth tucked among spruce branches a
+few feet from the ground, she stepped out by the snake fence.
+
+"Hello, mister!"
+
+The fat young man bobbing over the "thank-you-ma'ams" of the snowy
+road, pulled himself up with a jerk in his small sleigh drawn by a
+long-legged mare.
+
+"Coronation! Where did that noise come from? Hello, wood-lark," as he
+observed the little girl peeping at him through the fence, "is there
+a hawk in your nest?"
+
+"Who be you?" she asked.
+
+"I've got an awful pretty name," he replied, flicking his whip over
+the snow-bank beside him, "too pretty to tell."
+
+"Who be you?" she asked, pertinaciously.
+
+"Ever hear tell of a creamery shark?"
+
+"I didn't know as sharks favoured cream," she said, soberly.
+
+"They dote on it."
+
+"Be you a creamery shark?"
+
+"No--course not. I'm chasing one. I'm a farmer."
+
+The small, keen-eyed girl looked him all over. He was the creamery
+shark himself, and he certainly had an oily, greasy appearance
+befitting his fondness for cream. However, she did not care what he
+was if he served her purpose.
+
+"Will you gimme a lift?" she asked.
+
+"A lift--where?"
+
+"Anywhere out o' this," and she pointed back to the smart, white
+village up the river.
+
+"Now what be you?" he said, cunningly.
+
+"I be a runaway."
+
+"What you running from?"
+
+"I'm a-runnin' from an orphan 'sylum."
+
+"Good for you--where you going?"
+
+"I'm goin' to Orstralia."
+
+"Better for you--what you going there for?"
+
+"'Cause," she said, firmly, "they know how to treat orphans there.
+They don't shut 'em up together like a lot o' sick pigs. They scatter
+'em in families. The gover'ment pays their keep till they get old
+enough to fend for themselves. Then they gets a sum o' money an' they
+works--I heard a lady-board readin' it in a newspaper."
+
+"A lady-board?"
+
+"Yes--lady-boards has to run 'sylums."
+
+"Course they do. Well, skip in, little un."
+
+[Illustration: "'WELL, I VUM!'"]
+
+"There's another passenger," she said, firmly; "an' them as takes me
+takes him."
+
+"Have you got your granddaddy along?"
+
+"No, siree, but I've got somethin' mos' as good as a granddaddy, an'
+I'd thank you to keep a straight tongue when you speak of him."
+
+The young man put the offending tongue in his cheek, and chuckled
+enjoyably as the small, elfish figure disappeared in the wood.
+Presently she returned with a good-sized bundle in her arms, that she
+thrust through the fence.
+
+"Give it a name," said the young man; "why, see how it's
+wiggling--must be some kind of an animal. Cat, weasel, rabbit, hen,
+dog--"
+
+"Stop there," she ejaculated; "let it be dog. His name's Gippie."
+
+"Well, I vum!" the young man said, good-naturedly, as she approached
+the sleigh and deposited her beshawled dog on his knees.
+
+"I guess this sleigh warn't built for two," she said, as she crawled
+in beside him.
+
+"Right you are; but you don't want to be carted far."
+
+"Gimme that dog," she said, taking the bundle, "an' start off.
+Prob'ly they're just hitchin' up to be after me."
+
+He clicked his tongue to the long-legged mare, and speedily fences
+and trees began to fly by them.
+
+"What did you twig me for?" asked the fat young man. "Ain't you had
+no other chance?"
+
+"Lots," she said, briefly.
+
+"There was an ole boy ahead o' me with a two-seated rig, an' a
+youngster on the back seat. Why didn't you freeze on to him?"
+
+She turned her little dark face toward him, a little face overspread
+by sudden passion. "D'ye know what that ole shell-back would 'a'
+done?"
+
+"He'd 'a' took ye in."
+
+"He'd 'a' druv me back to that 'sylum. He looked too good, that one.
+You looked like a baddie."
+
+"Much obliged," he said, dryly.
+
+"I guess you've done bad things," she said, inexorably. "You've stole
+pies, an' tole lies, an' fed dogs an' cats on the sly. I guess you've
+been found out."
+
+The fat young man fell into a sudden reverie, and they passed several
+white fields in silence.
+
+"They'll never ketch me," she said at last, gleefully; "we're goin'
+like the wind."
+
+The young man looked down at her. She had the appearance of a
+diminutive witch as she sat with one hand clasping her faded hat, the
+other holding firmly to the bundle on her lap. Her countenance was so
+much older and shrewder in some phases than in others that the young
+man was puzzled to guess her age.
+
+"Why, you ain't got any cloak," he said. "That's nothing but a dress
+you've got on, ain't it? Take the shawl off that dog."
+
+"No, sir," she said, decidedly, "I don't do that."
+
+"Hold on; I've got a horse blanket here," and he dived under the
+seat. "There!" and he wrapped it around her shoulders.
+
+"Thanks," she said, briefly, and again her bird-like eyes scanned the
+road ahead.
+
+"Hot cakes an' syrup!" she exclaimed, in a voice of resigned
+distress, "there's the North Marsden lady-board comin'. They must
+have 'phoned her. Say, mister, lemme sneak under here. If she holes
+you up, you'll have to tell a lie."
+
+The young man grinned delightedly as the little girl slipped through
+the blanket and disappeared under the lap-robe. Then he again went
+skimming over the snow.
+
+There was a very grand sleigh approaching him, with a befurred
+coachman on the seat driving a pair of roan horses, and behind him a
+gray-haired lady smothered in handsome robes.
+
+"Please stop!" she called pathetically, to the approaching young man.
+
+The creamery shark pulled up his mare, and blinked thoughtfully at
+her.
+
+"Oh, have you seen a little girl?" she said excitedly; "a poor little
+girl, very thin and miserable, and with a lame, brown dog limping
+after her? She's wandering somewhere--the unfortunate, misguided
+child. We have had such trouble with her at the Middle Marsden
+Asylum--the orphan asylum, you know. We have fed her and clothed her,
+and now she's run away."
+
+The fat young man became preternaturally solemn, the more so as he
+heard a low growl somewhere in the region of his feet.
+
+"Did she have black hair as lanky as an Injun's?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"And a kind o' sickly green dress?"
+
+"Oh, yes, and a dark complexion."
+
+"And a sort of steely air as if she'd dare the world?"
+
+"That's it; oh, yes, she wasn't afraid of any one."
+
+"Then I've sighted your game," he said, gravely, very gravely,
+considering that the "game" was pinching one of his legs.
+
+"I'll give you the scent," he went on. "Just follow this road till
+you come to the three pine-trees at the cross. Then turn toward
+Spruceville."
+
+"Oh, thank you, thank you. I'm ever so much obliged. But was she on
+foot or driving?"
+
+"Driving like sixty, sitting up on the seat beside a smooth old
+farmer with a red wig on, and a face as long as a church."
+
+"A red wig!" exclaimed the lady. "Why, that's Mr. Dabley--he's one of
+our advisory committee."
+
+"Dabley or Grabley, he's driving with one of your orphans. I see her
+as plain as day sitting beside him--brown face, faded black hat,
+sickly green frock, bundle on her lap."
+
+"Farmer Dabley--incredible! How one can be deceived. Drive on,
+Matthew. We must try to overtake them. Had he one horse or two?"
+
+"A pair, ma'am--a light-legged team--a bay and a cream. He's a
+regular old sport."
+
+"He's a Mephistopheles if he's helping that child to escape," said
+the lady, warmly. "I'll give him a piece of my mind."
+
+Her coachman started his horses, and the little girl under the robe
+was beginning to breathe freely when a shout from the young man
+brought her heart to her mouth.
+
+"Say, ma'am, was that a striped or a plain shawl she had her dog
+wrapped in?"
+
+"Striped--she had the impudence to steal it from the matron, and
+leave a note saying she did it because her jacket was locked up, and
+she was afraid her dog would freeze--I'm under a great obligation to
+you, sir."
+
+"No obligation," he said, lifting his hat. "I'm proud to set you on
+the chase after such a bad young one. That's your girl, ma'am. Her
+shawl was striped. I didn't tell you she had the nerve to ask me to
+take her in."
+
+"Not really--did she?" the lady called back; then she added,
+wonderingly, "but I thought you met her driving with Farmer Dabley?"
+
+They had both turned around, and were talking over their shoulders.
+
+There was a terrible commotion under the lap-robe, and the young man
+felt that he must be brief.
+
+"If you bark I'll break your neck," he heard the refugee say in a
+menacing whisper, and, to cover a series of protesting growls, he
+shouted, lustily, "Yes, ma'am, but first I passed her on foot. Then I
+turned back, and she was with the farmer. That young one has got the
+face of a government mule, but I'm used to mules, and when she asked
+me I said, ''Pears to me, little girl, you favour a runaway, and I
+ain't got no room for runaways in this narrow rig, 'specially as I'm
+taking a bundle of clothing to my dear old father'--likewise a young
+pig," he added, as there was a decided squeal from between his feet.
+
+"Thank you, thank you," came faintly after him as he started off at
+a spanking gait, and, "You're badder than I thought you was," came
+reproachfully from the tumbled head peeping above the lap-robe.
+
+"You're grateful!" he said, ironically.
+
+"I'm bad, but I only asked the Lord to forgive the lies I'd got to
+tell," said the little girl as she once more established herself on
+the seat. "You should 'a' said, 'No, ma'am, I didn't see the little
+girl'--an' druv on."
+
+"I guess you're kind of mixed in your opinions," he remarked.
+
+"I ain't mixed in my mind. I see things as straight as that air
+road," she replied. "I said, 'This is a bad business, for I've got to
+run away, but I'll be as square as I can.'"
+
+She paused suddenly, and her companion asked, "What's up with you?"
+
+"Nothin'," she said, faintly, "only I feel as if there was a rat
+inside o' me. You ain't got any crackers round, have you?"
+
+"No, but I've got something better," and he drew a flask from the
+pocket of his big ulster and put it to her mouth.
+
+Her nostrils dilated. "I'm a Loyal Legion girl."
+
+"Loyal Legion--what's that?"
+
+      "Beware of bottles, beware of cups,
+      Evil to him who evil sups."
+
+"Oh! a temperance crank," and he laughed. "Well, here's a hunk of
+cake I put in my pocket last night."
+
+The little girl ate with avidity the section of a rich fruit loaf he
+handed her.
+
+"How about your dog?" asked the young man.
+
+"Oh, I guess he ain't hungry," she said, putting a morsel against the
+brown muzzle thrust from the shawl. "Everythin' was locked up last
+night, an' there warn't enough lunch for him an' me--see, he ain't
+for it. He knows when hunger stops an' greed begins. That's poetry
+they taught us."
+
+"Tell us about that place you've been raised. No, stop--you're kind
+of peaked-looking. Settle down an' rest yourself till we pull up for
+dinner. I'll gabble on a bit if you'll give me a starter."
+
+"I guess you favour birds an' things, don't you?" she observed,
+shrewdly.
+
+"Yaw--do you?"
+
+"Sometimes I think I'm a bird," she said, vehemently, "or a worm or
+somethin'. If I could 'a' caught one o' them crows this mornin' I'd
+'a' hugged it an' kissed it. Ain't they lovely?"
+
+"Well, I don' know about lovely," said the young man, in a judicial
+manner, "but the crow, as I take him, is a kind of long-suffering
+orphan among birds. From the minute the farmers turn up these furrows
+under the snow, the crow works like fury. Grubs just fly down his
+red throat, and grasshoppers ain't nowhere, but because he now and
+then lifts a hill o' petetters, and pulls a mite o' corn when it gets
+toothsome, and makes way once in so often with a fat chicken that's
+a heap better out o' the world than in it, the farmers is down on
+him, the Legislature won't protect him, and the crow--man's good
+friend--gets shot by everybody and everything!"
+
+"I wish I was a queen," said the little girl, passionately.
+
+"Well, sissy, if you ever get to be one, just unmake a few laws that
+are passed to please the men who have a pull. Here in Maine you might
+take the bounty off bob-cats, an' let 'em have their few sheep, an'
+you might stand between the mink and the spawning trout, and if you
+want to put a check on the robins who make war on the cherries an'
+strawberries, I guess it would be more sensible than chasing up the
+crows."
+
+"I'm remarkin' that you don't beat your horse," said his companion,
+abruptly.
+
+"That mare," said the young man, reflectively, "is as smart as I be,
+and sometimes I think a thought smarter."
+
+"You wouldn't beat that little dog," she said, holding up her bundle.
+
+"Bet your striped shawl I wouldn't."
+
+"I like you," she said, emphatically. "I guess you ain't as bad as
+you look."
+
+The young man frowned slightly, and fell into another reverie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+EVEN SHARKS HAVE TENDER HEARTS.
+
+
+The old Moss Glen Inn, elm-shaded and half covered by creeping vines,
+is a favourite resort for travellers in the eastern part of Maine,
+for there a good dinner can be obtained in a shorter space of time
+than in any other country hotel in the length and breadth of the
+State.
+
+"And all because there's a smart woman at the head of it," explained
+the young man to the little waif beside him. "There she is--always on
+hand."
+
+A round, good-natured face, crowning a rotund, generous figure,
+smiled at them from the kitchen window, but while the eyes smiled,
+the thick, full lips uttered a somewhat different message to a tall,
+thin woman, bending over the stove.
+
+"Ruth Ann, here's that soapy Hank Dillson round again,--takin' in the
+farmers, as usual, engagin' them to pay for machinery and buildings
+more than are needed, considerin' the number of their cows, an' he's
+got a washed-out lookin' young one with him. She'll make a breach in
+the victuals, I guess."
+
+Ruth Ann, who was her sister and helper in household affairs, came
+and looked over her shoulder, just as Dillson sprang from the sleigh.
+
+Mrs. Minley stepped to the door, and stood bobbing and smiling as he
+turned to her.
+
+"How de do, Mrs. Minley. Give this little girl a place to lie down
+till dinner's ready, will you? She's dead beat."
+
+'Tilda Jane walked gravely into the kitchen, and although her head
+was heavy, and her feet as light as if they were about to waft her to
+regions above, she took time to scrutinise the broad face that would
+have been generous but for the deceitful lips, and also to cast a
+glance at the hard, composed woman at the window, who looked as if
+her head, including the knob of tightly curled hair at the back, had
+been carved from flint.
+
+"Step right in this way," said Mrs. Minley, bustling into a small
+bedroom on the ground floor.
+
+'Tilda Jane was not used to being waited on, and for one proud moment
+she wished that the children in the orphan asylum could see her. Then
+a feeling of danger and insecurity overcame her, and she sank on one
+of the painted, wooden chairs.
+
+"You're done out," said Mrs. Minley, sympathetically. "Are you a
+relation of Mr. Dillson's?"
+
+"No, I ain't."
+
+"You can lie on that bed if you like," said Mrs. Minley, noticing the
+longing glance cast at it.
+
+"Well, I guess I will," said 'Tilda Jane, placing her bundle on a
+chair, and stooping down to unloose her shoes.
+
+"Stop till I get some newspapers to put on the bed," said the
+landlady--"what's in that package? It's moving," and she stared at
+the shawl.
+
+"It's a dog."
+
+"Mercy me! I don't allow no dogs in my house."
+
+"All right," said the little girl, patiently putting on her shoes
+again.
+
+"What you going to do, child?"
+
+"I'm goin' to the wood-shed. Them as won't have my dog won't have me."
+
+"Land sakes, child, stay where you be! I guess he can't do no harm if
+you'll watch him."
+
+"No ma'am, he'll not rampage. He's little, an' he's ole, an' he's
+lame, an' he don't care much for walkin'. Sometimes you'll hear
+nothin' out o' him all day but a growl or a snap."
+
+The landlady drew away from the bundle, and after she had seen the
+tired head laid on the pillow, she softly closed the door of the room.
+
+In two minutes 'Tilda Jane was asleep. The night before she had not
+dared to sleep. To-day, under the protection of the creamery shark,
+she could take her rest, her hunger satisfied by the cake he had
+given her in the sleigh. The shark crept in once to look at her.
+"Ain't she a sight?" he whispered to Mrs. Minley, who accompanied
+him, "a half-starved monkey."
+
+She playfully made a thrust at his ribs. "Oh, go 'long with
+you--always making your jokes! How can a child look like a monkey?"
+
+He smiled, well pleased at her cajoling tone, then, stretching
+himself out in an armchair, he announced that dinner must be
+postponed for an hour to let the child have her sleep out.
+
+Mrs. Minley kept a pleasant face before him, but gave vent to some
+suppressed grumbling in the kitchen. With fortitude remarkable in a
+hungry man, he waited until one o'clock, then, losing patience, he
+ate his dinner, and, telling Mrs. Minley that he had business in the
+neighbourhood, and would not be back until supper-time, he drove away
+in his sleigh.
+
+At six o'clock 'Tilda Jane felt herself gently shaken, and opening
+her eyes, she started up in alarm.
+
+"All right--'tain't the police," said Mrs. Minley. "I know all about
+you, little girl. You needn't be scared o' me. Get up and have a bite
+of supper. Mr. Dillson's going away, and he wants to see you."
+
+'Tilda Jane rose and put on her shoes in silence. Then she followed
+the landlady to the next room. For an instant she staggered back.
+She had never before seen such a huge, open fireplace, never had had
+such a picture presented to her in the steam-heated orphanage. Fresh
+from troubled dreams, it seemed as if these logs were giants' bodies
+laid crosswise. The red flames were from their blood that was being
+licked up against the sooty stones. Then the ghastliness vanished,
+and she approvingly took in the picture,--the fat young creamery
+shark standing over the white cat and rubbing her with his toe, the
+firelight on the wall and snowy table, and the big lamp on the mantel.
+
+"Hello!" he exclaimed, turning around, "did you make your sleep out?"
+
+"Yes sir," she said, briefly. "Where shall I put this dog?"
+
+"Don't put him nowhere till we turn this cat out. Scat, pussy!" and
+with his foot he gently assisted the small animal kitchenwards.
+
+"Now you can roast your pup here," he said, pointing to the vacated
+corner.
+
+"Don't touch him," warned 'Tilda Jane, putting aside his outstretched
+hand. "He nips worse'n a lobster."
+
+"Fine dog that," said the young man, ironically. "Come on now, let's
+fall to. I guess that rat's rampaging again."
+
+"Yes, he's pretty bad," said 'Tilda Jane, demurely; and she seated
+herself in the place indicated.
+
+Mrs. Minley waited on them herself, and, as she passed to and fro
+between the dining-room and kitchen, she bestowed many glances on the
+lean, lank, little girl with the brown face.
+
+After a time she nudged Hank with her elbow. "Look at her!"
+
+Hank withdrew his attention for a minute from his plate to cast a
+glance at the downcast head opposite. Then he dropped his knife and
+fork. "Look here! I call this kind of low-down."
+
+'Tilda Jane raised her moist eyes.
+
+"You've got ham and eggs; fried petetters and toast, and two kinds
+of preserve, and hot rolls and coffee, and cake and doughnuts, which
+is more'n you ever got at the asylum, I'll warrant, and yet you're
+crying,--and after all the trouble you've been to me. There's no
+satisfying some people."
+
+'Tilda Jane wiped her eyes. "I ain't a-cryin' for the 'sylum," she
+said, stolidly.
+
+"Then what are you crying for?"
+
+"I'm cryin' 'cause it's such a long way to Orstralia, an' I don't
+know no one. I wish you was a-goin'."
+
+"I wish I was, but I ain't. Come on now, eat your supper."
+
+"I suppose I be a fool," she muttered, picking up her knife and fork.
+"I've often heard I was."
+
+"Hi now--I guess you feel better, don't you?" said the young man,
+twenty minutes later.
+
+He was in excellent humour himself, and, sitting tilted back in his
+chair by the fireplace, played a tune on his big white teeth with a
+toothpick.
+
+"Yes, I guess I'm better," said 'Tilda Jane, soberly. "That was a
+good supper."
+
+"Hadn't you better feed your pup?" asked the young man. "Seems to me
+he must be dead, he's so quiet."
+
+"He's plumb beat out, I guess," said the little girl, and she
+carefully removed the dog's queer drapery.
+
+A little, thin, old, brown cur staggered out, with lips viciously
+rolled back, and a curious unsteadiness of gait.
+
+"Steady, old boy," said the young man; "my soul and body, he ain't
+got but three legs! Whoa--you're running into the table."
+
+"He don't see very well," said 'Tilda Jane, firmly. "His eyes is
+poor."
+
+"What's the matter with his tail? It don't seem to be hung on right."
+
+"It wobbles from having tin cans tied to it. Gippie dear, here's a
+bone."
+
+"Gippie dear," muttered the young man. "I'd shoot him if he was my
+dog."
+
+"If that dog died, I'd die," said the little girl, passionately.
+
+"We've got to keep him alive, then," said the young man,
+good-humouredly. "Can't you give him some milk?"
+
+She poured out a saucer full and set it before him. The partially
+blind dog snapped at the saucer, snapped at her fingers until
+he smelled them and discovered whose they were, then he finally
+condescended to lick out the saucer.
+
+"And you like that thing?" said the young man, curiously.
+
+"Like him!--I love him," said 'Tilda Jane, affectionately stroking
+the brown, ugly back.
+
+"And when did he give away that leg?"
+
+She shook her head. "It's long to tell. I guess you'd ask me to shut
+up afore I got through."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE STORY OF HER LIFE.
+
+
+The young man said nothing more at the time, but ten minutes later,
+when he was thoughtfully smoking a long brown pipe, and 'Tilda Jane
+sat in a chair beside him, rocking her dog, he called out to Mrs.
+Minley, who was hovering about the room. "Sit down, Mrs. Minley.
+P'raps you can get this little girl to talk; I can't."
+
+'Tilda Jane turned sharply to him. "Oh, mister, I'd do anything for
+you. I'll talk."
+
+"Well, reel it off then. I've got to start soon."
+
+"What d'ye want to know?" she said, doggedly.
+
+"Everything; tell me where you started from. Was you born in the
+asylum?"
+
+"Nobody don't know where I was born. Nobody don't know who I am,
+'cept that a woman come to the poorhouse with me to Middle Marsden
+when I was a baby. She died, an' I was left. They give me the name
+of 'Tilda Jane Harper, an' put me in the 'sylum. Children come an'
+went. Just as soon as I'd get to like 'em they'd be 'dopted; I never
+was 'dopted, 'cause I'm so ugly. My eyes ought to 'a' been blue, an'
+my hair curly. I might 'a' been a servant, but my habits was in the
+way."
+
+"Habits--what habits?" asked Hank.
+
+"Habits of impidence an' pig-headedness. When the men come to kill
+the pigs I'd shut myself in my room, an' put my fingers in my ears,
+an' I couldn't hear, but I'd always squeal when the pigs squealed."
+
+"Is that why you wouldn't eat your ham just now?"
+
+"Oh, that ain't ham to me," she said, eloquently. "That bit o' red
+meat was a cunnin', teeny white pig runnin' round a pen, cryin'
+'cause the butcher's after him. I couldn't eat it, any more'n I'd eat
+my brother."
+
+"You're a queer little kite," interjected the young man, and he
+exchanged an amused glance with Mrs. Minley, who was swaying gently
+back and forth in a rocking-chair.
+
+"So you wasn't very much set up at the asylum?" he went on.
+
+"I guess I'm too bad for a 'sylum. Once our washerwoman took me home
+to supper. I guess heaven must be like that. They had a cat, too. I
+used to get in most trouble at the 'sylum 'bout cats. When starvin'
+ones came rubbin' up agin me in the garden, I couldn't help sneakin'
+them a bit o' bread from the pantry. It beats all, how cats find out
+people as likes 'em. Then I'd get jerked up."
+
+"Jerked up?" repeated her interlocutor.
+
+"Locked in my room, or have my hands slapped. Once I took a snake in
+the house. He was cold, but he got away from me, an' the matron found
+him in her bed. She whipped me that time."
+
+"Was that what made you run away?"
+
+"No, I run away on account o' this dog. You call up the cold spell we
+had a week ago?"
+
+"You bet--I was out in it."
+
+"Well, there come the coldest night. The matron give us extry
+blankets, but I couldn't sleep. I woke up in the middle o' the night,
+an' I thought o' that dog out in the stable. 'He'll freeze,' I said,
+an' when I said it, it seemed as if icicles were stickin' into me. I
+was mos' crazy. I got up an' looked out the window. There was a moon,
+an awful bitin', ugly kind of a moon grinnin' at me. I put on some
+clo'es, I slipped down-stairs, an' it seemed as if everythin' was
+yellin' in the cold. Every board an' every wall I touched went off
+like a gun, but no one woke, an' I got out in the stable.
+
+"The horse was warm an' so was the cow, but this little dog was mos'
+froze. I tried to warm him, but my fingers got like sticks. Then I
+did a scand'lous thing. I says, 'I'll take him in bed with me an'
+warm him for a spell, an' no one'll know;' so I lugged him in the
+house, an' he cuddled down on my arm just so cunnin'. Then I tried to
+stay awake, so I could carry him out early in the mornin', but didn't
+I fall to sleep, an' the first thing I knowed there was the matron
+a-spearin' me with her eyes, an she put out her hand to ketch the
+dog, an' he up an' bit her, an' then there was trouble."
+
+"What kind of trouble?" asked the young man.
+
+"I had bread an' water for two days, an' the dog was shut up in the
+stable, an' then I was brought up before the lady-board."
+
+"The lady-board," murmured Mrs. Minley; "what does the child mean?"
+
+"The board of lady managers," explained Dillson.
+
+"Tell us about it," he said to 'Tilda Jane.
+
+The latter was keeping an eye on the clock. She knew that the time
+must soon come for her to part from her new-found friend. It was not
+in her nature to be very demonstrative, yet she could not altogether
+hide a certain feverishness and anxiety. One thing, however, she
+could do, and she subdued her emotion in order to do it. It amused
+the young man to hear her talk. She would suppress her natural
+inclination to silence and gravity, and try to entertain him. And the
+more she talked, possibly the longer he would stay.
+
+Therefore she went on: "There they set round the table as big an'
+handsome as so many pies. One lady was at the top, an' she rapped on
+the table with a little hammer, an' said, ''Tention, ladies!' Then
+she says, 'Here is the 'fortinate object of dissection. What part
+shall we tackle fust? Name your wishes, ladies.' Then she stopped an'
+another lady begun, 'Mam pressiding, stake the case.'"
+
+The young man took his pipe from his mouth, and Mrs. Minley
+ejaculated, "Mercy me!"
+
+"Madam president, I guess," he said, gravely. "Go on, sissy."
+
+'Tilda Jane went on, still with her eye on the clock, and still
+speaking feverishly. "The mam pressiding staked me out. Says she,
+'Here is a little girl--she come to us like a lily o' the field; no
+dress on, no bunnit, no nothin'. We've fed an' clothed the lily,
+an' guv her good advice, an' she's lifted up her heel agin us. She
+deifies us, she introjuces toads an' snakes into the sacred presings
+of our sinningcherry for orphans. She packs a dirty dog in bed. We'll
+never levelate her. She's lowering the key of our 'stution. She knows
+not the place of reptiles an' quadruples. Ladies, shall we keep
+this little disturving lellement in our 'stution? If thy hand 'fend
+against thee cut it off. If thy foot straggle, treat it likewise.'
+
+"Then she set down, an' another lady got up. Says she, 'I'm always
+for mercy--strained mercy dropping like juice from heaven. If this
+little girl is turned inside out, she'll be a bright an' shinin'
+light. I prepose that we make the 'speriment. The tastes is in her,
+but we can nip off the grati'cations. I remove that instead of
+disturving her, we disturve the animiles. Ladies, we has hard work to
+run this 'stution.'"
+
+"This 'stution?" said the young man.
+
+"Yes, 'stution," repeated 'Tilda Jane, "that's what they call the
+'sylum. Well, this lady went on an' says she, 'Let's send away the
+cats an' dogs an' all the children's pets--squirrels an' pigeons
+an' rabbits, 'cause this little girl's disruptin' every child on
+the place. Once when cats come an' other animiles, they was stoned
+away. Now they're took in. I come across one little feller jus' now,
+an' instead o' learnin' his lesson he was playin' with a beetle.
+Ticklin' it with a straw, ladies. Now ain't that awful? We've got
+'sponsibilities toward these foun'lings. I feels like a mother. If
+we sends 'em foolish out in the world we'll be blamed. Our faithful
+matron says it's unpossible to ketch rats an' mice. This little girl
+gets at the traps, an' let's 'em go. She's a born rule-smasher!'
+
+"Then she closed her mouth an' set down, an' the big lady sittin'
+at the head o' the table pounded her hammer 'cause they all fell to
+jabberin'. Says she, 'Will some lady make a commotion?' Then one lady
+got up, an' she says, 'I remove that all animiles be decharged from
+this 'stution.'
+
+"'What about the chickings?' called out another lady. 'You must
+declude them. This will go on record.' The other lady said, ''Scuse
+me, I forgot the chickings. I'll mend my dissolution. I remove that
+all quadruples be decharged from this 'stution.'
+
+"That suited some, an' didn't suit t'others, an' there was a kind of
+chally-vally. One lady said she's mend the mendment, an' then the mam
+pressiding got kind o' mixy-maxy, an' said they'd better start all
+over agin, 'cause she'd lose her way 'mong so many mendments. After
+a long time, they got their ideas sot, an' they said that I was to
+stay, but all the animiles was to go. I didn't snuffle nor nothin',
+but I just said, 'Are you plannin' to kill that there dog?'
+
+"The mam pressiding gave a squeal an' said, 'No, that would be cruel.
+They would give the dog to some little feller who would be good to
+him.' I said, 'Little fellers tie tin cans to dogs' tails'--an' then
+they got mad with me an' said I was trespicious. Then I said, 'All
+right,' 'cause what could I do agin a whole lot o' lady-boards? But
+I made up my mind I'd have to work my way out of it, 'cause it would
+kill that little dog to be took from me. So I run away."
+
+Her story was done, and, closing her lips in dogged resolution, she
+stared inquiringly at the young man. He was not going to withdraw his
+protection from her, she saw that, but what would he direct her to do
+next?
+
+He was thoughtfully tapping his pipe against the fireplace, now he
+was putting it in his pocket, and now he was going to speak.
+
+[Illustration: "'TILDA JANE SAT LIKE A STATUE."]
+
+"Little girl, you've started for Australia, and as I don't believe
+in checking a raring, tearing ambition, I won't try to block you,
+exactly, but only to sidetrack. You can't go to Australia bang
+off. It's too far. And you haven't got the funds. Now I'll make a
+proposition. I've got an old father 'most as cranky as that there
+dog. I guess if you're so long-suffering with the animal, you'll be
+long-suffering with the human. He needs some tidy body to keep his
+house trigged up, and to wait on him, 'cause he's lame. He has an
+everlasting wrastle to keep a housekeeper on account of this same
+flash-light temper. But I guess from what I've seen of you, that you
+could fix him. And you'd have a home which you seem to hanker for.
+And you could save your money and start for Australia when you've put
+enough flesh on those bones to keep you from blowing away into the
+sea and getting lost. Starting would be convenient, for my father
+lives near the big Canadian railway that is a round the world route.
+You can step aboard the cars, go to the Pacific, board a steamer, and
+go on your way to Australia. What do you say--is it a bargain?"
+
+'Tilda Jane sat like a statue. The firelight danced behind her
+little, grave profile that remained unchanged, save for the big tears
+rolling slowly and deliberately down each thin cheek and dropping on
+the faded dress. Only the tears and the frantically clasped hands
+betrayed emotion.
+
+"I guess it's a go," said the young man, kindly. "Here's my father's
+address," and getting up he handed a card to her. "Hobart Dillson,
+Ciscasset, Maine. I've got to make tracks now, but Mrs. Minley here
+will put you on a train that comes by here in the morning, and all
+you've got to do is to sit still in it, till you hear the conductor
+holler Ciscasset. Then you hustle out and ask some one where Hobart
+Dillson lives. When you get there, don't shake if he throws a crutch
+at you. Just tell him you've come to stay, and I'm going to pay extra
+for it. That'll cool him, 'cause he's had to pay a housekeeper out
+of his own allowance up to this. The old boy and I don't rub along
+together very sweet, but he knows the size of a dollar every time."
+
+'Tilda Jane choked back the suffocating lump in her throat, and
+gravely rose to her feet. "Sir, I'm as much obleeged to you as--"
+
+Here she broke down.
+
+"As you ought to be," he finished. "Don't mention it. I'm happy
+to make your acquaintance. So long," and he politely held out two
+fingers.
+
+A vague terror seized the little girl. He had arranged everything for
+her, and yet she had never since her escape felt so paralysed with
+fear. Her beseeching eyes sought Mrs. Minley's face. The landlady was
+smiling graciously at her, but the little girl's heart sunk. Quite
+unknown to herself, she was a sharp reader of character. She was
+losing her best friend in the fat young man.
+
+"Take me with you," she gasped, suddenly clinging to his hand.
+
+"Can't do that, sissy. I'm going back into the settlements--bad
+roads, scattered houses. You'd freeze stiff. Better stay here with
+Mrs. Minley. I'll run up to Ciscasset by and by to see you."
+
+'Tilda Jane drew back in sudden, steely composure. She was ashamed of
+herself. "I'm crazy," she said, shortly; "you've done enough for me
+now. I'll take care of your father if he gets mad fifty times a day."
+
+Already she felt a sense of responsibility. She drew herself up with
+dignity, and in sad, composed silence watched the young man leave the
+room and the house. When the last faint sound of his sleigh-bells
+had died away, she gave up her listening attitude, and turned
+patiently to Mrs. Minley, who was saying with a yawn, "I guess you'd
+better go to bed."
+
+'Tilda Jane walked obediently toward her room, and Mrs. Minley,
+seating herself on a chair in cold curiosity, watched her undress.
+
+When the little girl knelt down to say her prayers, a feeble smile
+illuminated the woman's face. However, she was still listless and
+uninterested, until the latter portion of the petition.
+
+"O Lord," 'Tilda Jane was praying earnestly, almost passionately,
+"forgive me for all this sin an' 'niquity. I just had to run away. I
+couldn't give up that little dog that thou didst send me. I'll live
+square as soon as I get takin' care o' that ole man. Bless the matron
+an' make her forgive me, an' bless all the lady-boards--Mis' Grannis
+'specially, 'cause she'll be maddest with me. Keep me from tellin'
+any more lies. Amen."
+
+When 'Tilda Jane rose from her knees, Mrs. Minley's breath was coming
+and going quickly, and there was a curious light in her eyes. "Mrs.
+Grannis, did you say?" she asked, shortly. "Mrs. Grannis, over Beaver
+Dam way?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"What has she got to do with the asylum?"
+
+"She's the fust lady-board. She sits behind the table an' pounds the
+hammer."
+
+"And she'll be maddest with you?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am. She says children has too much liberties."
+
+"Hurry into bed," said Mrs. Minley, briefly, and taking up the lamp,
+and without a word of farewell, she disappeared from the room.
+
+'Tilda Jane cowered down between the cold sheets. Then she stretched
+out a hand to touch the precious bundle on the chair by her bed. And
+then she tried to go to sleep, but sleep would not come.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+UNSTABLE AS WATER.
+
+
+A vague uneasiness possessed her. Ah, how happy would she be, could
+she know that the young creamery man was sleeping under the same
+roof! But he was speeding somewhere far away over the snowy roads.
+However, she should see him again. He had said so, and, with the
+hopefulness of youth, she sighed a happy sigh and, closing her eyes
+tightly, listened to the various sounds about the quiet house.
+
+There must have been another arrival, for she heard doors opening and
+shutting, and also the jingle of sleigh-bells. They were strangely
+confused in her mind with the ringing of the rising-bell at the
+orphan asylum, and she was just sinking into a dreamy condition, a
+forerunner of sleep, when she heard a hard voice in her ear.
+
+"Get up an' dress, little girl."
+
+She raised herself quietly from the pillow. There stood over her the
+tall, gaunt woman whom she had heard Mrs. Minley address as Ruth Ann.
+To her perturbed mind, there rose a vision of a graven image from
+the Bible, as she stared at the woman's stony countenance. She was
+standing shading a candle with her hand, and her deep eyes were fixed
+in unmistakable compassion on the little girl.
+
+"Jump up," she repeated, "an' dress like sixty. You've got yourself
+into a peck o' trouble."
+
+'Tilda Jane had not a thought of questioning the wisdom of this
+command. Something about the hard-faced woman inspired her with
+confidence, and without a word she stepped out of bed, and began
+rapidly putting on her clothes.
+
+"I'll talk while you dress," said the woman, in a hard, intense
+voice, and putting down the candle, "but, Lord, how can I say it all?"
+
+There was a kind of desperation in her tone, although no trace of
+emotion appeared on her face. 'Tilda Jane felt a strange kinship
+with this reserved woman, and flashed her a sympathetic glance while
+buttoning one of her stout and ugly garments.
+
+Ruth Ann made a brief grimace. "Here I am," she said, with a sudden
+burst of speech, "a middle-aged woman gettin' old. You're a young one
+settin' out on life's journey. I'll never see you agin, prob'bly.
+Let me give you a word--be honest, an' if you can't be honest, be
+as honest as you can. You'll have no luck otherwise. You may think
+you're havin' luck in bein' sly, but it's a kind o' luck that turns
+to loss in the long run. There's that sister o' mine. She reminds me
+o' Reuben in the Bible--'unstable as water thou shalt not excel.'
+She's that deceitful that I should think she'd choke with it so she
+couldn't breathe."
+
+'Tilda Jane made no remark, but as she threw her dress over her head
+her two black eyes scintillated wonderingly in the woman's direction.
+
+"Unstable," said Ruth Ann, bitterly. "I'd 'a' loved her if she'd been
+honest, but it's always the same,--fair to the face, foul behind the
+back. I've slaved for her an' waited on her, an' heard her praised
+for work I've done, and seen young men oggle her, an' she oggle back,
+an' I've never had an offer an' never will, an' sometimes I think I
+hate her."
+
+'Tilda Jane paused for an instant in her rapid dressing. This
+sisterly repulsion was something unknown to her childish experience.
+
+"Then when she gets sick from stuffin' herself, I'm feared, an' think
+she's goin' to die, but she'll 'tend my funeral, an' cry an' look so
+handsome that some ole Jack will pop the question on the way home.
+Here, child, eat these while you dress," and she drew some doughnuts
+from her pocket.
+
+'Tilda Jane pushed them from her, with an involuntary movement of
+dislike.
+
+"You've turned agin me for turnin' agin my sister," said the woman,
+bitterly. "Wait till you're treated as I am. An' let me tell you what
+she's done to you. You made mention o' Mis' Grannis. Mis' Grannis
+has got a mortgage on this house. Mis' Grannis lends her money, Mis'
+Grannis is the god my sister bows down to. Do you think she'd let you
+stand between her and Mis' Grannis? No--the minute she heard you say
+Mis' Grannis would be pleased to git you back, that minute she made
+up her mind to fool you and Hank Dillson that she can't abide 'cause
+he ain't never asked her to stop bein' a widow. So she made me help
+her hitch up, an' she's off on the wings of the wind to tell her
+sweet Mis' Grannis to come an' git you; an' just to fool her who is
+so cute at foolin' other folks, I made up my mind to git you off. Now
+do you take it in?"
+
+'Tilda Jane did take in this alarming bit of news, and for one
+instant stood aghast. Then she resolutely fell to lacing on her shoes.
+
+"You're gritty," said the woman, admiringly. "Now I'll tell you what
+I've laid out. I'm goin' to guide you through the woods to the Moss
+Glen Station. When we git mos' there, I'll skedaddle home an' to bed,
+'cause I don't want sister to find me out. Here's an extry pair o'
+stockin's an' shoes to put on before you board the train. You'll git
+yours full o' snow water. If all goes as I calc'late, you'll have
+time to change 'em in the station. You don't want to git sick so
+you can't stand up to that ole man. Here's a little tippet for your
+shoulders. Dillson told sister to give you a shawl, but she'll not do
+it. An' he paid her, too. Now come, let's start."
+
+'Tilda Jane brushed her hand over her eyes, resolutely picked up her
+dog, and followed her guide out to the kitchen.
+
+Ruth Ann caught up a shawl, threw it over her head, and opened the
+door. "My--it's black! I guess we'll have to take a lantern."
+
+She turned back, fumbled in a corner of the kitchen, struck a light,
+then rejoined 'Tilda Jane.
+
+For some minutes they plodded on in silence. Then Ruth Ann said,
+anxiously, "I don' know what I'll do if it don't snow. She'll track
+us sure--me, big feet, an' you, smaller ones. Glory, it's snowin'
+now!"
+
+A sudden wind had sprung up in the black, quiet night, and whirled a
+few flakes of snow in their faces. Then the snow began to fall from
+above, gently and quietly, flake by flake.
+
+'Tilda Jane struggled along the heavy road in the wake of the tall
+woman ahead. The small dog seemed to have grown larger, and lay a
+heavy burden in her arms. Yet she uttered no word of complaint. Her
+mind was in a whirl, and she gave no thought to physical fatigue.
+What was she doing? Had she--a little girl--any right to give so
+much trouble to grown people? Her actions were exactly in opposition
+to every precept that had been instilled into her mind. Children
+should be seen and not heard. Children should wait on grown people.
+Children must not lie under any circumstances. They must be obedient,
+truthful, honest, and uncomplaining. Perhaps she ought to go back
+to the orphan asylum. She could stand punishment herself--but her
+dog? They would make her give him up. Some boy would get him. Boys
+were all mischievous at times. Could she endure the thought of that
+little feeble frame subjected to torture? She could not, and steeling
+her heart against the asylum, the matron, and the lady managers, she
+walked on more quickly than ever.
+
+She would never forget that ghostly walk through the woods. The
+narrow way wound always between high snow-laden sentinels of trees.
+The sickly, slanting gleam of the lantern lighted only a few steps
+ahead. Mystery and solemnity were all about her; the pure and
+exquisite snow, on which they were putting their black-shod feet,
+was to her the trailing robe of an angel who had gone before. The
+large, flat snowflakes, showered on her erring head, were missives
+from the skies, "Go back, little girl, go back."
+
+"Lord, I can't go back," she repeated, stubbornly, "but I'll repent
+some more, by and by. Please take away the sick feeling in the middle
+of my stomach. I can't enjoy anythin'."
+
+The sick feeling continued, and she gave Ruth Ann only a feeble
+"yes," when she suddenly turned and threw the light of the lantern on
+her with a brisk, "Don't you want to know what lie I'm goin' to tell
+'bout your leavin'?
+
+"I'm not goin' to tell any lie," Ruth Ann continued, triumphantly.
+"If you've got grace enough to hold your tongue, other folks'll
+do all your lyin' for you. Sister'll come home, Mis' Grannis with
+her, prob'bly. They'll go ravagin' in the spare room. They'll come
+ravagin' out--'Ruth Ann, that young one's run off!' An' I'll be busy
+with my pots an' pans, an' all I'll have to say is: 'Do tell!' or,
+'Why, how you talk!' An' sister'll rave an' tear, an' run round like
+a crazy thing, an' look at Mis' Grannis out o' the corner of her eye."
+
+Ruth Ann's shoulders shook with enjoyable laughter, but if she had
+turned suddenly she would have seen a look of unmistakable disgust
+flitting over the face behind her.
+
+She did turn suddenly a few minutes later, but the look was gone.
+"Here, give me that dog," she said, peremptorily.
+
+The little girl protested, but the woman took him, and again they
+plodded on in silence.
+
+"Here we be," she said, after they had been walking for an hour
+longer.
+
+'Tilda Jane raised her head. The narrow road had abruptly expanded
+into a circular clearing, and in the midst of the clearing stood a
+small wooden building.
+
+Ruth Ann walked up to it, handed 'Tilda Jane the dog and the lantern,
+and put her hands on one of the diminutive windows.
+
+It opened easily, and she ejaculated with satisfaction, "Just what I
+thought. Come, crawl in here; the station agent's been here all the
+evenin', an' the fire ain't quite out. You'll be as snug as a bug in
+a rug. He'll be back at daylight agin, an' soon after your train'll
+come along for Ciscasset. Don't you breathe a word to him 'bout me.
+Say Mis' Minley brought you here, if he asks anythin'. Here's enough
+money to buy your ticket. I ain't got much. Sister keeps me short,
+an' she's took away with her what Hank Dillson give her for you. Mind
+an' keep that card with his father's name pinned inside your dress.
+Here's a lunch," and she produced a parcel from her pocket. "Don't
+fret, sister can't git home much before breakfast, an' by that time
+you'll be in Ciscasset, an' I guess they'll not follow you there. She
+don't know the name o' the place, anyway. She didn't take no 'count
+when Hank mentioned it, an' when she asked me, you'd better believe I
+forgot it, too."
+
+'Tilda Jane scrambled through the window, and, upon arriving inside,
+turned around and gravely shook hands with her guide. "I guess I
+sha'n't forgit this."
+
+"Don't you take no pains to remember it before sister," said the
+woman, with a chuckle, "if you don't want me to live an' die in hot
+water. Good luck to you. Shut the winder, an' put a stick on the
+fire," and she strode off through the snow.
+
+'Tilda Jane shuddered. She was not a nervous child, yet the knowledge
+that she was alone in a forest pressed and bore down upon her.
+However, she was out of the increasing storm. She had got her guilty
+feet off that angel's trailing robe, and the little letters from
+heaven were not dashing in her face, nor was there any danger now
+that one of the groaning trees bending to lament over her would fall
+and crush her shrinking form.
+
+They were creaking all around the circular opening--those spying
+trees--staring through the curtainless windows at her, and instead
+of throwing on more wood, and making a blaze that would enable her
+to be plainly seen, she opened the stove door, and, cowering over
+the embers, changed her wet foot-gear, and tried to dry her clinging
+skirts.
+
+She was entirely miserable until the frightened dog crept into her
+arms. Here was something weaker and more in need of protection than
+herself, and, hugging him closely to her, she prepared to spend the
+rest of the night in a patient waiting for the morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ANOTHER ADVENTURE.
+
+
+The quietest and most undemonstrative passenger on the night train
+from Boston was the shabby little girl in the corner, with the bundle
+beside her on the seat.
+
+The conductor, after one sharp glance, paid no attention to her, the
+brakemen paid no attention to her, the boy with the gum-drops and
+novels ignored her. She had the air of knowing where she was going,
+and also of being utterly uninteresting, and greatly to her relief
+she was left entirely to her own devices.
+
+In reality 'Tilda Jane was in a state of semi-paralysis. She scarcely
+dared to move, to breathe. All her life had been spent in the quiet
+precincts of the asylum. She had scarcely been allowed to go to the
+small village in its vicinity, and when she had been allowed to
+visit it she had seen nothing as wonderful as this, for there was
+no railway there. It took her breath away to be whirled along at so
+rapid a rate. She wondered how the people dared to walk about. She
+wondered how she had ever had courage enough to step on board the
+flaming, roaring monster that had come rushing out of the woods as
+if it would devour the little station, the agent, herself, and her
+dog. But they had not been devoured, and the agent had guided her
+staggering footsteps toward the monster. If he had not done so, she
+would in her bewilderment have been left a prey for the pitiless Mrs.
+Minley.
+
+For two hours she sat with swimming brain, then it occurred to her
+that she must in some way acquaint this wonderful and frightful
+means of locomotion, with her desire to alight at her destination.
+She closely watched the people entering and leaving the car, and
+discovered that immediately following the entrance of a man who
+bawled some unintelligible exclamation, something took place that
+reminded her of a game played at the asylum. Certain people went out,
+and certain others came in and took their places. She must catch this
+noisy man and speak to him.
+
+She patiently waited for him to pass through the car. Once he
+swept by her, and then some time elapsed before she saw him again.
+The train had been waiting for fifteen minutes at a station. A
+number of men had gone out, and presently come back brushing their
+moustaches and with toothpicks between their teeth. This must be an
+eating-place; and Ruth Ann said that 'Tilda Jane would arrive in
+Ciscasset before breakfast-time.
+
+The little girl desperately addressed a passenger passing her. "I
+say, sir, when do we come to Ciscasset?"
+
+"Ciscasset!" repeated the man. "We passed it an hour ago."
+
+"Passed it!" she echoed, stupidly.
+
+The man turned to a news agent sauntering by. "Here, you, send the
+conductor here."
+
+The conductor did not appear, but a brakeman came. "Got carried
+beyond your station, little girl. You're in Canada now, but it's all
+right; we'll ship you off at the next stop. Number eight will take
+you back. All ri-i-i-ght."
+
+'Tilda Jane fell back on her seat with a strange sinking of heart.
+She remembered now that Hank Dillson had said the conductor would
+"holler" Ciscasset; but, if he had done so, she had not distinguished
+the words in the strange sounds issuing from his mouth.
+
+It seemed as if only a few bewildered minutes had passed when someone
+ejaculated, "McAdam Junction!" and the friendly brakeman was beside
+her. She felt herself lifted from her seat, bundle and all, and swung
+to a platform, where she stood among a group of people. She did not
+know where to go or what to do, and remained as one in a dream until
+some one touched her shoulder.
+
+"You the little girl carried beyond your station?"
+
+"Yes, sir," she gasped, and looked up into the pleasant face of a
+young man bending over her.
+
+"All right; the conductor told me about you. Come in here," and he
+led the way to a waiting-room. "Had your breakfast?"
+
+"No, sir, but I've got it here," and she pulled Ruth Ann's parcel out
+of her pocket.
+
+The young man smiled and motioned it back. "Come have some hot
+coffee," and he passed through a doorway into an eating-room, where
+'Tilda Jane presently found herself seated before a steaming cup of
+coffee, and a plate of beefsteak and potatoes.
+
+"I ain't got any money to pay for this," she said, bluntly, to the
+young woman who set the tempting viands before her.
+
+"That's all right," said the girl, smiling.
+
+'Tilda Jane picked up her knife and fork. "All right!" seemed to
+be a railway expression. It was immensely comforting to her, and
+she soberly partook of the hot breakfast, drank all her coffee, and
+emptied the scraps from her plate into her handkerchief. Then she
+approached the counter where the young woman stood.
+
+"Thank you kindly, ma'am. I've made a good meal."
+
+Then she went outdoors into the crisp morning air. The snow-storm was
+over, and the day was delightful--blue above, white below. It was
+like a fairy world. She walked to the end of the platform, unrolled
+her shawl, and, freeing her mummy-like dog, set his breakfast before
+him. He ate with avidity, then, showing a disinclination to return
+to his bandages, hopped on his three legs along the platform beside
+her, his crooked tail meanwhile describing successive circles in
+the air. Some of the loiterers about the station gathered around
+him, and seeing that his bodily infirmities were a subject of mirth
+rather than of compassion, 'Tilda Jane, in spite of warm protests on
+his part, once more swathed him in his shawl, and carried him with
+dignity into the waiting-room. There she sat until the agreeable
+young man ran in and said her train was coming.
+
+Something warned her that she ought to implore him to tell some one
+to have a care of her--to see that she did not again get carried
+beyond her destination, but a kind of paralysis seized upon her
+tongue, and she could only open her mouth and gape stupidly at him.
+
+"You'll be all right now," he said, with a nod. "Jump when you hear
+Ciscasset."
+
+"Ciscasset, Ciscasset!" she repeated the name in a kind of
+desperation, then, as the train started with a jerk and she tumbled
+into a seat, she said aloud, and without addressing any one in
+particular, "I wish to jump off at Ciscasset."
+
+"Bless the child!" ejaculated an old lady in the seat before her,
+"I guess this is her first journey," and turning around, she stared
+mildly.
+
+"Oh, ma'am," said 'Tilda Jane, "can't you help me get off at
+Ciscasset? The train goes so fast, an' I'm so little."
+
+"Bless the child!" said the old lady again, "of course I will.
+Conductor, this little girl wishes to get off at Ciscasset."
+
+"All right," said that official, hurrying by.
+
+"This little girl wishes to get off at Ciscasset," exclaimed the old
+lady once more, this time to a brakeman.
+
+He nodded and passed on, and presently the conductor returned and
+said, smartly, "Tickets!"
+
+"I ain't got any," replied 'Tilda Jane.
+
+"Then you must buy one," said the old lady; "have you got any money,
+my dear?"
+
+'Tilda Jane never thought of asking the conductor if he had not been
+informed of her mishap. She never dreamed that the pleasant-faced
+young man had forgotten to ask that she be carried back to the
+station for which she had bought her ticket. Therefore she drew her
+handkerchief from her pocket, untied a knot in its corner, and slowly
+produced fifty cents.
+
+"Is that all the money you've got?" asked the conductor, briskly.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Where do you come from?"
+
+'Tilda Jane preserved a discreet silence.
+
+"Put it up," he said, waving his hand toward the handkerchief and
+immediately going away.
+
+"Oh, what a nice kind man!" said the old lady. "He's going to let you
+ride free."
+
+'Tilda Jane breathed more freely, and returned her handkerchief to
+its place.
+
+The conductor, meanwhile, had gone to a Pullman car in the rear,
+where a man in plain clothes was lying back on a seat, apparently
+engaged in an aimless, leisurely scrutiny of the occupants of the car.
+
+"Jack," said the conductor, "there's a slip of a girl in the day
+car--poor clothes, shawl bundle, no money, won't tell where she comes
+from, making a great fuss about going to Ciscasset, looks like an
+emigrant."
+
+"All right," said Jack, laconically, then he gave an imperceptible
+nod toward a trio of well-dressed young men engaged in card playing.
+"Want to see me nab that New York jeweller's clerk?"
+
+"Yep," said the conductor.
+
+"Got any telegrams in your pocket?"
+
+"Two."
+
+"Lend me one, and sit down here a minute."
+
+Jack got up, the conductor took the vacated seat, and waited one,
+two, three minutes, and then Jack reappeared from between the
+curtains of the drawing-room at the rear of the car.
+
+"A telegram for H.J. Bolingbroke," he called, in a loud voice; "any
+passenger of that name in this car?"
+
+The youngest of the three men playing cards involuntarily raised his
+head, started from his seat, half extended his hand, then drew back.
+
+Jack tossed the telegram to the conductor, and nodded to the young
+man. "Thought you were travelling under an assumed name. H. J.
+Bolingbroke _alias_ Blixton. Have you got those diamonds in your
+pocket?"
+
+The young man flushed painfully, while his fellow players threw down
+their cards and surveyed him curiously.
+
+"Trouble you to follow me to another car," said Jack, and he led the
+way for the detected smuggler.
+
+'Tilda Jane saw the two men pass, and innocently stared at them,
+little dreaming that her turn was to come next.
+
+After awhile Jack reappeared and sat down in a seat behind 'Tilda
+Jane. After noticing the ineffectual attempts made by the old lady
+to draw the little girl into conversation, he leaned over and poured
+some candy into her lap from a bag he held in his hand.
+
+"Have some, sissy?"
+
+She gratefully flashed him a glance over her shoulder. "Thank you,
+sir."
+
+"Going far?" he asked, agreeably.
+
+"To Ciscasset," she said, feverishly. "Will you tell me when we come
+to it?"
+
+"Certainly. Going to visit friends?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Oh, going home?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Your home isn't quite so near as Ciscasset?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Did you bring that small dog across the ocean with you?" he asked,
+his keen eye noting a stirring inside the bundle.
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Where did you pick him up?"
+
+"Some boys were goin' to drown him."
+
+"So you're a kind little girl."
+
+"I ain't as good as I ought to be," she said, warmly; "but I'm goin'
+to try to be better. Oh, sir, are we at Ciscasset yet?"
+
+"No, this is Vanceboro, the border station between Canada and the
+States. I guess you'd better come this way for Ciscasset, little
+girl."
+
+"Why, this train goes direct to Ciscasset," interposed the old lady.
+
+"Yes, ma'am, but this little girl is a stop-over. She'll probably go
+on the next train."
+
+The old lady grew suspicious. "You let that child alone, sir.
+Where's the conductor? Conductor, I say, come here. Can't some one
+get the conductor? Don't go with him one step, little girl."
+
+'Tilda Jane, grown very pale, gazed apprehensively at the man, and
+did not offer to leave her seat.
+
+He threw back his coat and displayed a badge. "Madam, I'm a
+government inspector."
+
+"A government inspector! What's that?" the old lady spluttered,
+eyeing him over her glasses.
+
+"Well, madam, there ain't much time for explanation, but I can tell
+you this much, namely, that we have to detain and examine all persons
+without means of livelihood who attempt to enter the United States
+from foreign countries."
+
+She still gazed at him suspiciously. "I never heard of such a thing.
+I guess this is a free country."
+
+"Yes, ma'am, and the government wants to keep it free. If you get a
+lot of pauper foreigners here, it'll not be free long."
+
+"This little girl is American, ain't you, sissy?"
+
+"I'm an orphan," said 'Tilda Jane, guardedly. Whatever happened, she
+was determined not to admit too much.
+
+At this moment the conductor appeared, and the old lady hailed him
+indignantly. "What does this mean, sir? This little girl offered to
+pay her passage. I saw her with my own eyes. Now you're going to put
+her off the train."
+
+"It's all right, ma'am," he said, soothingly, "she'll likely be
+allowed to go on to-morrow."
+
+"And you'll keep that innocent child here all day, and she too
+frightened to breathe?" cried the old lady. "I never heard of such
+doings. I'll write the President! I'll show you up in the papers!"
+
+"She'll be well taken care of, madam," said the conductor. "There's
+a good hotel here. All detained are lodged and fed at government
+expense. She'll be put in charge of a chambermaid."
+
+"You're a set of villains!" said the old lady, wrathfully.
+
+"Oh, law!" groaned the conductor, "I'm sick of these fusses. Pick up
+her traps, Jack."
+
+"Come, little girl," said Jack, kindly, and 'Tilda Jane, seeing that
+the inevitable had once more overtaken her, rose resignedly, but the
+too kind and officious old lady clung to her so wildly that the two
+men were forced to draw her away from her.
+
+'Tilda Jane, in a state of complete bewilderment totally unmixed with
+terror, for she had taken a liking to the kind face of her guide,
+trotted meekly after him into the shadow of a long V-shaped building.
+The platform was crowded with people. Two trains were standing at the
+station, and in a large dining-room on her right she saw thronged
+tables and hurrying waitresses.
+
+She was ushered into a room where there was a handsomely dressed
+woman with a flushed face and tearful eyes, a dejected looking boy
+and girl sitting very close to each other, a diminutive and poorly
+dressed German Jew, and a composed looking man sitting behind a small
+table.
+
+"I'll have to leave you now," said her guide. "Don't be scared, but
+speak up," and with a reassuring smile he disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+DEAF AND DUMB.
+
+
+'Tilda Jane sat down on a bench in the corner and took the dog on her
+lap.
+
+The fashionably dressed woman was speaking and gesticulating
+earnestly in front of the man whose face was only a trifle less calm
+and stony than that of Ruth Ann.
+
+"I never heard of such a thing in my life--to take my sealskin coat
+from me in the dead of winter. Now if it was summer, it wouldn't
+be so bad. My nice coat that cost me four hundred and seventy-five
+dollars."
+
+The man listened stolidly.
+
+"And you tell me your government orders you to take ladies' jackets
+from them. It seems incredible!"
+
+'Tilda Jane curiously scanned the garment under discussion. It
+certainly was very handsome.
+
+"It is incredible, madam. The government does not wish to deprive
+ladies of their sealskin coats. It merely requires its custom
+officials, of whom I am one, to enforce the law which has been made
+to prevent the importation of sealskin coats free of duty."
+
+"And have you taken many jackets?" sneered the woman.
+
+The official gazed at her in frigid silence.
+
+"I'll go right back to Toronto, where I live," she said, indignantly.
+"I was going to buy my daughter's trousseau in New York, but I'll
+spend every cent at home. That's the way we will make New York suffer
+on account of your government being so hateful!" and she flounced
+from the room. The man behind the table cast a leisurely glance over
+the remaining occupants of the room. Then he addressed the dejected
+boy and girl.
+
+"Hello, you!--what's your name?"
+
+"Thaddeus and Mary Lee," said the boy, mournfully.
+
+"Brother and sister?"
+
+"Man and wife," responded the boy, lugubriously.
+
+The assistant inspector elevated his eyebrows.
+
+"What ages?"
+
+"Nineteen and seventeen," sighed the lad.
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"To Boston."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To look for work."
+
+"Got any money?"
+
+"Two dollars and seventy cents."
+
+"That all?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What place do you come from?"
+
+"Chickaminga, Quebec."
+
+"You'll take the 8.15 A. M. train back to-morrow," said the man,
+briefly. "Now, Deutscher," and he nodded to the German Jew.
+
+The boy and girl left the room, hand in hand, with melancholy
+clothing them like a garment, and 'Tilda Jane gazed after them with
+wide-open eyes. Her attention, however, was soon distracted, for
+the little Jew, the instant he was indicated, sprang from his seat,
+extended both hands, and nimbly skipping over the floor between his
+numerous bundles, overwhelmed the inspector with a flood of German.
+
+The inspector leaned back in his chair and at last put up a hand with
+a commanding, "Halt!"
+
+The old man paused open-mouthed, and the inspector went on in German:
+"You left your home, you crossed the sea, you wish to go to Portland
+to relatives--so far, so good, but where are your papers?"
+
+The old man broke into a second burst of eloquence.
+
+"Your certificate," reiterated the inspector, "your writing from the
+captain of the ship."
+
+The old man shook his head sadly. He had no papers.
+
+'Tilda Jane did not understand a word of what he was saying, but his
+gestures were expressive, and she anxiously watched his interlocutor.
+
+"Where did you land?" asked the inspector.
+
+"In Halifax, Nova Scotia."
+
+"From what ship?"
+
+"_Das Veilchen._"
+
+"Captain's name?"
+
+"Strassburger."
+
+"Your name?"
+
+"Franz Veier."
+
+"I'll telegraph him. That's all."
+
+"And can I not go to my friends now--at once? They are waiting, they
+are expecting. We have so much to say."
+
+"No," said the inspector, and as the German burst out into groans and
+lamentations, he waved him from the room.
+
+When the door closed, and 'Tilda Jane felt that the cold and
+scrutinising eyes of the inspector were fixed on her, she was
+stricken with sudden dumbness. How these people had talked! She could
+not in a month utter as much as they had said in a few minutes. The
+result of their loquacity had been a seeming paralysis of her organs
+of speech.
+
+"What's your name, little girl?" said the official, with slight
+geniality.
+
+Her lips parted, but no sound came from them.
+
+"_Sprechen Sie Deutsch?_" he asked, agreeably.
+
+She shook her head, not from any knowledge of his meaning, but to
+signify her disinclination for speech.
+
+"_Parlez-vous français_?" he went on, patiently.
+
+Her head again negatived this question, and he inquired in Spanish if
+she knew that tongue.
+
+The shaking of the head became mechanical, and as the inspector knew
+seventeen languages, he addressed her successively in each one of
+them.
+
+After she had shaken her head at them all, he surveyed her a few
+seconds in meditative silence. Then he began to talk on his fingers.
+She was probably deaf and dumb.
+
+'Tilda Jane joyfully uncurled her hands from the bundle on her lap.
+This was a safe medium of conversation, for talking on the fingers
+had been a favourite amusement of the orphans during silence hours;
+and she would not be tempted to say too much, and betray the fact
+that she was a runaway. Accordingly, she spelled out the information,
+"I am an orphan."
+
+"Where do you come from?" he asked her.
+
+"A long ways off," her finger tips informed him.
+
+"Name of place?"
+
+"I can't tell you," she responded.
+
+"Where are you going?" he inquired.
+
+"To--" she hesitated about the spelling of Ciscasset, but got
+something near enough to it for him to understand.
+
+"Any relatives there?" he spelled on his fingers.
+
+"No."
+
+"Going to visit?'
+
+"No."
+
+"Have you any money?" he next asked her, and she politely and
+speedily informed him that she had fifty cents.
+
+"You must tell me where you come from," came next from him in
+peremptory finger taps.
+
+"No, sir," she replied, with spirited movements.
+
+"Then you'll stay here till you do," he responded, and with a yawn he
+rose, turned his back to her, and looked out of the window.
+
+'Tilda Jane took up her dog, and slipped out of the room. She was
+not frightened or sorry for the deception she had just practised.
+It did not seem to her that it was deception. For the time being
+she was deaf and dumb, and, far from being alarmed by her helpless
+condition, she possessed the strong conviction that she would be
+well taken care of. She had also ceased to worry about the board of
+lady managers, and in her present comfortable, callous state of mind
+she reflected that she might stay here a year, and they would never
+think of looking for her in a railway station. She was lost to them,
+and she gaily hummed a tune as she strolled to and fro on the big
+wooden platform, watching the shunting engines, the busy custom-house
+officers, and the station yard employees, who were cleaning, rubbing,
+scouring, and preparing cars for further journeys.
+
+At twelve o'clock, just as she was beginning to stifle yawns, and
+gaze wistfully at the windows of the dining-room, a young girl in a
+white apron came and stood in the doorway, and, shading her eyes from
+the sun shining in such dazzling brightness on the snow, beckoned
+vigorously to 'Tilda Jane.
+
+The little girl needed no second invitation, and, with her dog
+limping behind her, trotted nimbly toward her new friend.
+
+"Poor little soul--she's deef and dumb," said the dining-room girl,
+compassionately, as she passed a group of men in the hall. "Ain't it
+a pity?"
+
+'Tilda Jane did not speak or smile, nor did her conscience, often
+so troublesomely sensitive, now give one reproving twinge. Since
+talking to the inspector she felt as if deaf and dumb. She had been
+officially proclaimed so, and in meek patience she seated herself
+at the table, calmly pointed to what she wished, and, being most
+tenderly and assiduously waited upon by the pitying girl, ate a large
+and excellent dinner.
+
+At the orphan asylum there had never been fare such as this, and,
+after she had finished her chocolate pudding, and put in her pocket a
+juicy orange that she could not possibly eat, she bowed her head, and
+internally and thankfully repeated the orphanage grace after meat.
+
+"Just look at her!" exclaimed the admiring girl. "Ain't she cute?
+What kind of folks must she have to let such a poor little innocent
+travel alone? I don't believe she's obstinate. That assistant
+inspector is as hateful as he can be. Come, sissy, and I'll show you
+to your room," and she approached 'Tilda Jane, and took her by the
+hand.
+
+The latter pointed to her dog, and not until she had seen him satisfy
+the demands of his appetite, would she consent to follow her guide
+to a neat little apartment in the top of the wooden hotel.
+
+Upon arriving there, she thanked the girl by a smile, closed the
+door, and, throwing herself on her bed, was soon buried in sweet and
+wholesome slumber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+CLEARING UP A MISTAKE.
+
+
+That evening, when some of the custom-house officials and some of
+the guests of the hotel were sitting tipped back in chairs in the
+smoking-room, the assistant inspector said to the inspector, who had
+just come in, "I couldn't make anything of your deaf and dumb kid,
+Jack."
+
+"What deaf and dumb kid?" asked Jack, seating himself, and drawing
+out his cigar case.
+
+"That young one with the bundle."
+
+"She ain't deaf and dumb. Her tongue's hung as limber as yours."
+
+"Well, I swan!" said the assistant inspector, blankly, and, as he
+spoke, he brought his chair down on its four legs, and gazed about
+the room with an expression of such utter helplessness that the other
+men broke into a roar of laughter.
+
+"Don't cry, Blakeman," said Jack, soothingly. "It's only once in a
+coon's age you're fooled."
+
+"Do you suppose the slyboots has gone to bed?" asked Blakeman, again
+tipping back his chair, and returning to his professional manner.
+"Uncle Sam hasn't got any spare cash to waste on such like. Just open
+the door, Rufus, and see if you see any of the girls about."
+
+A dining-room girl good-naturedly consented to go in search of 'Tilda
+Jane, and upon entering the room found her on her knees thoughtfully
+looking down at the railway tracks running close to the hotel.
+
+Stepping forward and gently touching her shoulder, the girl pointed
+down-stairs.
+
+'Tilda Jane nodded, smiled, and, taking her hand, went out into the
+hall and down the staircases with her. 'Tilda Jane stared at the ring
+of men sitting in the smoking-room. When she caught sight of her
+friend of the morning, she smiled and bobbed her head at him, then,
+letting her dog slip from her arm to the floor, she stood in silence,
+waiting to be questioned.
+
+She had no doubt that this was some special tribunal called together
+to deliberate upon her case. She was not afraid of these men, they
+had kindly faces.
+
+"What made you pretend you were deaf and dumb?" asked the inspector,
+at last.
+
+She opened her mouth once or twice, tried to speak, failed, and
+at last articulated with difficulty, and with an air of genuine
+surprise, "Why--ain't I deef an' dumb? I ain't spoke ever since he
+made me think so till now," and she nodded toward the assistant
+inspector.
+
+"I made you think so!" ejaculated Blakeman, irritably.
+
+"Yes, sir," she said, dreamily, and lingering over her syllables as
+if she found a new pleasure in the exercise of speech. "You had so
+much to say, an' the other people had so much to say, that the room
+seemed chock full o' words. They was flyin' round ever so thick, but
+I couldn't ketch one o' them."
+
+"Well, now, you've got to quit lying and tell us where you come
+from," said the assistant inspector, roughly. "You've got to be sent
+home to-morrow."
+
+"Sent home?" she repeated wonderingly.
+
+"Yes--to Canada. Now tell us the name of the place you belong to, or
+we'll ship you to some poorhouse."
+
+"Do I come from Canada?" she asked, with a mystified air.
+
+Jack jogged his assistant's elbow. "Seemed to me there was the smell
+of a ship about her."
+
+"Not so," responded Blakeman who prided himself on distinguishing
+nationalities. "She hasn't any European accent. She's from right over
+the border here somewhere."
+
+"Do you know my mother?" 'Tilda Jane was eagerly asking the assistant
+inspector.
+
+"Yes--know her well. If you don't speak up I'll telegraph her."
+
+"Oh, I'll never speak then," said 'Tilda Jane, taking a step forward
+and clasping her hands painfully. "Oh, sir, do telegraph to my
+mother. I've cried an' cried at nights 'bout her. Other girls has
+mothers that loves 'em an' strokes their hair, an' nobody ever done
+that to me. They just thinks I'm ugly. Oh, sir, oh, sir, won't you
+telegraph my mother?"
+
+Blakeman had gone too far. The sentiment of the meeting was against
+him, and a low murmur warned him to retract what he had said.
+
+"I don't mean your mother," he said, sulkily. "I mean your guardians."
+
+"The lady-boards?" asked 'Tilda Jane, eagerly.
+
+He did not know what "lady-boards" meant, but his silence seemed to
+give assent to her question, and losing the bright flush that had
+come to her face, she relapsed into painful and profound silence.
+
+He would never know how he had hurt her. Oh! what hopes he had
+raised, and in an instant dashed to the ground, and checking the
+convulsion in her throat, she stealthily wiped away the two tears of
+distress coursing down her thin cheeks.
+
+"Don't cry," said Jack, kindly. "I expect you're tired from your trip
+in the train yesterday. You had a pretty long one, hadn't you?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Jack," she said, humbly. "It seemed kind o' long, but I'm
+not used to bein' drug along so mighty quick."
+
+"I didn't notice her till we passed McAdam Junction," whispered Jack
+to his assistant. "She's come down from some place in New Brunswick.
+Telegraph McAdam."
+
+"They'll not know," growled Blakeman. "Robinson on yesterday's
+Montreal express is the man. He'll be back to-night. He'll know where
+she got on. If he'd reported, 'twould have saved this."
+
+"I guess he didn't think we'd struck such an obstacle," remarked
+Jack, with a chuckle. Then he said aloud, "Don't you suppose they'll
+be worrying about you, sissy?"
+
+"No, sir," she said, meekly, "they'll be more mad than worried."
+
+"You haven't lost that paper with the address, have you?" said Jack,
+cunningly.
+
+"No, sir," and she put her hand to her breast.
+
+He got up and walked toward her. "Let me see if I can read it."
+
+"There's no 'casion for that," she said, with dignity.
+
+"You'll have to let me see it," he said, firmly, so firmly that it
+being no part of her plan to "dare the undareable," she quietly
+handed Hank's card to him.
+
+"Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset, Maine," he read, then he gave it back to
+her. "Thank you, sissy. I guess you can go to bed now."
+
+"In a minute," said 'Tilda Jane, submissively, while she made a queer
+bob of a curtsey to all present. "Gen'l'men all--before I go I must
+say somethin'. Up-stairs jus' now I was ponderin' on my wickedness. I
+guess you think I don't know that all liars has their portion in the
+lake o' fire an' brimstone. I knows it an' feels it, but gen'l'men I
+ain't told no more lies nor I could help. That 'bout bein' deef an'
+dumb I can't call a lie, 'cause I felt it, an' I'm s'prised now to
+hear myself talk. But I have told lies, an' I know it. To-day I had
+a boss dinner. I went to sleep an' on my bed I dreamed. Somethin'
+roared an' shook the house an' I woke in a sweat. Did I think the
+devil had come after me? Yes, sirs--gen'l'men, I've been awful bad,
+I don't s'pose any of you knows what such badness is. I'm afeared
+I've got to go on lyin' till I like lies better'n truth. That's what
+the--what ladies I has known said would happen to little girls as
+stepped aside from the paths of righteousness."
+
+The men were all staring at her, the assistant inspector most
+intently, for this flow of language from the supposedly deaf and dumb
+child surprised even him--a man used to surprises.
+
+"I'm goin' to repent some day," continued 'Tilda Jane, sadly, "just
+as soon as I get out o' this, an' enjoyin' fam'ly life. I'm goin' to
+repent of all 'cept one thing, an' I can't repent 'bout that 'cause
+I dunno if it's wrong. Do you like dogs?" and she abruptly addressed
+the assistant inspector.
+
+"No," he said, brusquely.
+
+"What do you like?" she went on, wistfully, "cats, birds,
+children--do you like girls, sir, nice little girls with blue eyes
+an' curly hair?"
+
+The assistant inspector was a remarkably fine blond specimen
+of a man, and, as he was popular among the young women of the
+neighbourhood, 'Tilda Jane's artless question produced a burst of
+laughter from his companions, and a furious flaming of colour in his
+own face.
+
+[Illustration: "'I'M GOIN' TO REPENT SOME DAY.'"]
+
+Her question had gone home, and she proceeded. "Suppose you had a
+nice little girl an' some one wanted to take her away, an' frighten
+her, an' tie jinglin' things to her an' make her run, an' you'd ketch
+her up an' run off to the woods, would that be awful wicked, do
+you s'pose, an' would you have to repent?"
+
+The assistant inspector preserved a discreet and resentful silence,
+but two or three of his companions murmured between their pipe-stems
+and their lips, "Not much he wouldn't."
+
+"Now that's what troubles me," 'Tilda Jane continued. "The rest
+is bad, but is that bad? I guess I'll have to ask some minister,
+an', gen'l'men all, I guess you'd better let me go on to Ciscasset.
+You've got a nice place here, an' plenty o' things to eat, an' I
+think you're very fair, but I feel like movin' on," and pausing, she
+anxiously scanned the row of faces about her.
+
+"Run away to bed now," said Jack. "We'll tell you to-morrow what
+you're to do," and as 'Tilda Jane picked up her pet and disappeared,
+he sauntered across the room, took up a telegraph form, and addressed
+a message to the creamery shark's father.
+
+  "Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset. Girl, age about twelve. Dark hair,
+  eyes--run away from place unknown. Going to your address. Held as
+  immigrant without means. Refuses to give name. Can you supply any
+  information? Answer paid for."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A THIRD RUNNING AWAY.
+
+
+"Look here, little girl," said Jack, stopping 'Tilda Jane as she was
+coming out of the dining-room the next morning, "I've had a telegram
+from your friend in Ciscasset."
+
+"An' what does he say?" she asked, breathlessly.
+
+"I'll read it," and he drew a paper from his pocket. "Never heard of
+girl. Don't want her. Hobart Dillson."
+
+'Tilda Jane looked crestfallen, but did not flinch in face of the new
+difficulty. "He's a cranky ole man. He'll be all right when I talk to
+him."
+
+"Well, you're a queer fish," muttered her friend, as by way of hiding
+her chagrin she went quickly up-stairs. "We can't do anything with
+you till Robinson gets back, and tells us where he picked you up."
+
+The assistant inspector met her in the hall above. "Have you made up
+your mind to talk yet?" he asked, austerely.
+
+'Tilda Jane shook her head.
+
+"I've been amusing myself by telegraphing along the line," he said,
+in the same tone of voice. "None of the stations know anything about
+you, and the agent at McAdam has started off in the woods for his
+holidays. The conductor that brought you is laid up from an accident
+to his train, so you've got to speak for yourself; and do you know
+what I've made up my mind to do?"
+
+"No, sir," she said, steadily.
+
+"By to-night if you won't tell me where you come from, I'm going to
+take that dog away from you."
+
+Her face turned a sickly yellow, but she did not quail. "You wouldn't
+shoot him, would you?"
+
+"No, I won't shoot him," he said, deliberately. "I guess I'd give him
+to some nice little girl who wouldn't tell lies."
+
+'Tilda Jane's head sank on her breast. "Gimme till to-morrow morning,
+sir. I'd like to think it over."
+
+"I'll see about it," he said, with a curious glance at her; then he
+went away.
+
+'Tilda Jane knew that he would give her till the morning. She would
+not be troubled by him all day. She would have time to think. The
+worst difficulty in her experience confronted her. She would lose
+her dog in any case. To speak was to be sent back to the asylum, to
+remain silent was to let her Gippie become the cherished darling of
+some other girl, and in mute agony she caressed the smooth brown
+head, and put her hand before the almost sightless eyes as if she
+would hide from them even a suspicion of coming danger.
+
+Mr. Jack had just stepped on one of the out-going trains. She could
+not appeal to him, and the table-girls, since they had found that she
+was a story-teller, slighted her in a most marked way.
+
+She wandered down-stairs and out-of-doors. All day she loitered
+about the station platform watching the trains come in,--deliberate
+freight-trains, with their loads of merchandise, all to be examined
+by the busy customs officials, and rushing express trains, with their
+hundreds of hungry passengers who swept in crowds into the spacious
+dining-room.
+
+She saw her companions in captivity borne away. The fashionable lady
+got on a train that was entering Canada, and the dismal boy and girl
+followed her. The little German Jew, who had been roaming about the
+hotel like a restless ghost, always with his hat on and a bundle
+in his hand as if he wished to impress all beholders with the fact
+that he was only tarrying for a short time, had, on the receipt of a
+telegram informing the inspectors that he had merely forgotten his
+papers, become a happy maniac. He ran to and fro, he collected his
+bundles, dropped them, to kiss the hand of a table-girl who gave him
+some cakes for his lunch, and had to be restrained by main force from
+boarding every train that pulled up at the station.
+
+Fortunate travellers and unfortunate orphan! She could not get on
+one of the trains and be borne away. She was watched; she felt it,
+for she had now a perfect comprehension of the system of espionage
+established over unsuspecting travellers. The rich and well-dressed
+ones were passed by unless they were wearing sealskin wraps, the
+poor and penniless must give an account of themselves. So there was
+no escape for her by train. She must take to the road.
+
+She had better go lie down and try to sleep, she reflected with a
+shudder, as she had now before her the prospect of another night in
+the woods. As soon as it got dark, she must try to slip away from the
+hotel.
+
+At six o'clock she had had her nap and was in her favourite spot on
+her knees by her open window. Night was approaching, and she felt
+neither sorry, nor frightened, nor apprehensive. The sun was going
+down, and she was so completely wrapped in deep and silent content
+that she could neither speak nor think. She did not know that she was
+an ardent lover of nature--that her whole soul was at the present
+moment so filled with the glory of the winter evening that she had no
+room for her own troubles.
+
+The clanging supper-bell disturbed her, and, with a sigh and a look
+of longing farewell at the sky, she closed the window and made her
+way to the dining-room.
+
+After supper she returned to her post, and, as she could not now see
+the glorious sky and the snowy fields, she let her attention fall
+upon the trains below that had begun to have a strange fascination
+for her. She had lost all fear of them by this time, and had even
+begun to notice that there were differences in them just as there
+were differences in people. Some were big and bulky, others were
+quick and dashing. Some had hoarse voices, some clear ones. The
+Canadian engines coming in shrieked in one tone, the American ones,
+passing them from the other direction, replied in another.
+
+Hour after hour went by, and with the time her sense of dreamy
+contentment faded away. It gave her but little dismay to look out
+into the starlit night and fancy herself alone in snowy solitudes,
+but it gave her considerable dismay to look down below, and find
+that the hotel was neither getting dark nor perfectly quiet, as she
+fancied all well-regulated houses did at night. She had forgotten
+that they could not sleep here, at least everybody could not.
+Trains were coming and going all the time, and with this constant
+supervision below, how could she evade detection?
+
+"Number seventeen is an hour late and getting later every minute,"
+she heard some one call after a time; "bad snow-drifts up north."
+
+"Guess I'll take a wink of sleep," a tired voice responded, "there'll
+be nothing but freights for a spell," and then followed comparative
+silence.
+
+Footsteps were only occasionally heard, fewer lights flashed in the
+distance, and it was only at much longer intervals that passing
+trains shook the house. There was a lull in the constant noises, and
+now was the time for action. She rose stealthily, and took her dog
+in her arms--a pathetic child figure no longer, but a wary, stealthy
+little elf endeavouring to escape from danger threatened by these
+larger and more powerful human beings.
+
+Her sleeping-room was a tiny chamber opening out of one occupied by
+two of the dining-room girls. She was not afraid of their waking.
+She had heard them say as they undressed that they had to get up at
+half-past four to iron table-cloths and napkins, and there was not
+an instant's interruption of their heavy, dreamless slumber as she
+stole noiselessly by them.
+
+Now for the staircase. She paused anxiously at the top, and looked
+down. There was no one in sight, and holding her breath, and
+tiptoeing cautiously, she stole down step by step.
+
+At last she was at the bottom of both flights of stairs. So far so
+good, and she laid her hand on the knob of the front door that was
+never locked. But stop, let her pause--there were sounds outside.
+
+Some one out there hesitated, halted, and remarked to some other
+person behind, "Will you come in and have a bite of something to eat?"
+
+'Tilda Jane scarcely dared to breathe, and, gazing down the hall
+behind her, shook in her substantial shoes. She could see the office
+at the end of the hall, and the sleepy clerk napping at his desk. If
+she retreated toward him, he might wake up and discover her, and if
+the men entered she could not possibly avoid being caught by them.
+
+In intense anxiety she awaited results. There were only a few seconds
+of uncertainty, then her heart gave a bound of thankfulness. The
+footsteps had passed on, and only waiting till they died away, she
+opened the door and glided through.
+
+Now she was on the brightly lighted platform at the mercy of any
+passer-by, or any wakeful person who might be at one of the hotel
+windows. She made one swift rush across it, one leap over the railway
+tracks, and with a stifled exclamation of thankfulness found herself
+on the village road.
+
+Like a dark, diminutive ghost she sped up the hill past the silent
+houses. Now she was comparatively safe, yet which way should she go?
+She was completely puzzled, yet she had a vague idea that there were
+great forests surrounding Vanceboro, for she had heard the men at the
+hotel talk of fishing and shooting.
+
+Trembling in every limb from excitement, and pressing her precious
+bundle closely to her, she took a road to the left. She must not
+go to the right, for across the river was Canada, and if she got
+into that foreign country again, she would have fresh difficulties
+in returning to her own native one. She would press on through the
+village, take to the woods, and trust to luck to find some house
+where she could ask the way to Ciscasset.
+
+There was a moon to-night, an old, pale moon, and it cast a tremulous
+light over the soft, white fields sloping down to the Sainte-Croix
+River, the sleeping village, and the brightly lighted station yard
+in the hollow. She turned around, took one farewell glance at the
+habitations of men, and plunged into the winding road leading into
+the heart of the forest.
+
+Hour after hour she plodded on. This reminded her of her walk with
+Ruth Ann two evenings before, only here there was more light, the
+snow was deeper, and the trees were not as high as those on the way
+to the Moss Glen station. She hoped with a shiver that she should
+meet no wild beasts. Hark! What was that crashing through the alder
+bushes? She stopped short, clasped her dog to her breast, and looked
+about for some means of defence. Nothing offered but a dry tree
+branch, and she was just bending over to seize it when there rushed
+by her, so quickly that she had no time to be afraid, an object that
+caused a faint smile of pleasure to come to her pale lips.
+
+This was a large deerhound running along with his nose to the snow,
+and he paid no more attention to her than if she had been one of the
+stumps by the side of the road.
+
+"Here, doggie, doggie!" she called, wistfully, but he did not return,
+and, startled by the sound of her voice in the intense stillness, she
+hastily resumed her way.
+
+How solemn the moon was, staring down at her with that section of a
+face on which she fancied she saw an ear, the corner of a mouth, and
+one terrible, glistening eye. "Little girl, where are you going? Are
+you doing right? Are you not a naughty little girl?"
+
+"I can't think about it now," she said, desperately. "When I git
+settled down I'll square things up. Anyway, I'm not bad for the
+fun of it. Law me, ain't this road long! Here, Gippie, I guess you
+might walk a few steps. Keep in my tracks an' I'll not let anythin'
+hurt you. If a bear comes, he'll eat me first. It'll do you good to
+stretch your legs a mite."
+
+Away back in the hotel Mr. Jack was just getting home. "We can let
+our deaf and dumb kid go in the morning," he said to his assistant,
+who got on the train as he left it. "The waitress at McAdam was just
+inquiring about her--says she's U. S. all right. Came from Moss Glen
+station, didn't know Ciscasset when she got to it, and was carried
+on. Agent forgot to speak to Robinson about her, and the waitress
+wanted to know if she got through all right."
+
+"U. S.," grumbled the assistant inspector, pausing with his foot on
+the steps of the baggage-car, "why didn't she say so?"
+
+"Was frightened--I guess she'd run away--a case of innocence abroad."
+
+"Well, we can't hold her if she isn't an immigrant," said Blakeman,
+with relief. "Let her go. They've got a poorhouse in Ciscasset, I
+suppose."
+
+"She'll go in no poorhouse," said Mr. Jack, with a chuckle. "She's
+too smart."
+
+If he could have seen at that moment the weary little figure toiling
+along the forest road, he would have uttered the appreciative
+adjective with even more energy. Tired, hungry, occasionally
+stooping to lift a handful of snow to her lips, 'Tilda Jane plodded
+on. Her thin figure was bent from fatigue. She had again picked up
+the wailing dog, and had slung him on her back in the shawl, yet
+there was not the slightest indication of faltering in her aspect.
+There were no clearings in the woods, no promise of settlement, yet
+her face was ever toward the promised land of Ciscasset, and her back
+to the place of captivity in Vanceboro.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+LOST IN THE WOODS.
+
+
+Nothing could be more exquisitely beautiful than that winter morning
+in the Maine woods. The white glory of the snow, the stealing pink
+and gold glances of the sun, the bravery of the trees proudly
+rearing their heads aloft and stretching out their heavily laden
+arms,--all made a picture that filled with awe even the heart of
+rough Bob Lucas, unregistered guide and nominal lumberman, noted for
+his skill as hunter and poacher and his queer mingling of honesty,
+law-breaking, piety, and profanity.
+
+No, it was not a picture, it was reality, and he was a part of it. He
+was in it, he belonged to this glorious morning, the morning belonged
+to him, and he put up his hand and pulled off his cap.
+
+"Branching candlesticks on the altar of the Lord," he muttered as he
+surveyed the trees. "I feel like a vessel o' grace, more's the pity
+I can't take on the actions o' one."
+
+He stood lounging in the cabin door--red-haired, long-nosed, unkempt,
+and stalwart. Inside were his two sons getting the breakfast, and the
+appetising odour of frying bacon floated out on the fresh air.
+
+"Hi, Poacher--whot's up with you?" he suddenly exclaimed, and his
+gaze went to a deerhound of unusually sturdy build, who was ploughing
+through the snow toward the cabin.
+
+The dog wagged his tail, advanced, and, lifting toward him a
+countenance so bright with intelligence that it might almost be
+called human, opened his mouth, and dropped something at his master's
+feet.
+
+"Hello, boys!" said the man, stepping inside the cabin; "what in the
+name o' creation's this? I call it a morsel of woman's togs. Don't
+your mother wear aprons like it, or somethin'?"
+
+The two strapping lads in high boots and woollen shirts turned their
+red faces from the fireplace.
+
+"Yes, siree," said the taller of them, fingering the scrap of
+cotton; "they call it something like jingo."
+
+"Gingham, you gull," interposed his brother, with a guffaw of
+laughter. "I've seen it in the stores. Where'd you get it, pop?"
+
+"Poacher fetched it. When I got out o' my bunk this mornin' an'
+opened the door, he put up that ole muzzle of his an' give a sniff.
+Then off he sot. I knew he'd got somethin' on his mind. He's been
+runnin' deer, an' he found this on his way back."
+
+"He's a beaut," said the other lad, eyeing him admiringly. "He's
+nosed out something. What'll you do, pop?"
+
+"Swaller some breakfast an' make tracks for Morse's camp."
+
+"S'pose it was some person," said the younger of the boys, uneasily.
+
+"By gum!" and the man suddenly smote his thigh, "s'pose the ole woman
+had run after us with somethin'. Hustle on your coats, boys. Mebbe
+it's your ma."
+
+The faces of both boys had turned white, and their hands were
+shaking. Seizing their coats, they rushed out of the cabin.
+
+"Pop, it wasn't bitter last night," said the younger, in a hushed
+voice.
+
+"Shut up!" said his father, irritably, and in profound silence the
+three proceeded through the wood in single file, following the dog
+who, without excitement, but with his dark face beaming with pleasure
+at being understood, rapidly led them over his own tracks of a few
+minutes previous.
+
+Mile after mile they went in silence, until at last the father, who
+was leading, made a leap forward.
+
+There was a dark mound on the snow against a tree trunk, and dropping
+beside it he turned it over.
+
+"Thank the Lord!" he ejaculated, while scratching and beating the
+snow away from it, "it ain't what I feared."
+
+"Why, it's only a gal," said one of the boys. "Is she gone, pop?"
+
+"Here--shake her up," he replied. "What's this she's curled round? A
+dog, sure as thunder, an' alive an' warm. Merciful grindstones, look
+at him!"
+
+Irritably stepping out of wrappings, consisting of a small tippet
+and a shawl, was a little old dog, the most utter contrast to the
+handsome deerhound that could have been imagined.
+
+The hound stared inquiringly and politely at Gippie, and, being a
+denizen of the woods, made the first overtures to friendship by
+politely touching him with the end of his muzzle.
+
+The smaller dog snapped at him, whereupon the hound withdrew in
+dignified silence, and watched his owners, who were making vigorous
+efforts to restore the benumbed girl.
+
+"Her heart's beatin'," said Lucas, putting his hand on it. "The dog
+lay there, an' kep' it warm."
+
+"Rub her feet--rub harder," he said to his sons, while he himself
+began chafing 'Tilda Jane's wrists. "She's jist the age o' your
+sister Min. S'pose she was here, stone cold an' half dead!"
+
+The boys redoubled their efforts at resuscitation, and presently a
+faint colour appeared in the little girl's marble cheeks, and the
+cold lips slightly moved.
+
+Lucas put his head down. "What you sayin'? Dog, is it? He's all
+right. If you'd wrapped yourself more, an' him less, it might 'a'
+bin better. Yet, I guess not. If it hadn't 'a' bin for the dog, you'd
+'a' bin dead. Put on her shoes, boys. We'll carry her to that heap o'
+logs of ours."
+
+"Pop, will one of us have to show her out?" said Joe, anxiously
+pressing beside him.
+
+"Yep," said his father. "Here, strip off your coat an' put it round
+her."
+
+"An' I s'pose I'll hev to go 'cause I'm the youngest," said the boy,
+bitterly.
+
+"No, sir--you're always doin' dirty work. This time it'll be Zebedee."
+
+Zebedee frowned, and muttered that he wished girls would stay out o'
+the woods; then he tramped on beside his brother.
+
+"Here, gimme my gun," said Lucas, presently. "You-uns is younger. You
+kin carry the gal."
+
+He had been carrying 'Tilda Jane over his shoulder, and now the
+little procession started again, this time with the boys bearing the
+semi-unconscious burden.
+
+Gippie, squealing and complaining, followed behind as well as he was
+able, but finally, becoming stuck in a drift, gave a despairing yell
+and disappeared.
+
+Lucas turned around, went in the direction of the crooked tail
+sticking up from the snow, and pulling him out, contemptuously took
+him under his arm.
+
+"If you was my dog, you'd get a bullet to eat. Howsomever, you ain't,
+an' I guess we'll hev to keep you for the leetle gal. Git on thar,
+sons."
+
+Two hours later, 'Tilda Jane opened her eyes on a new world. Where
+had her adventures brought her this time? Had she died and gone to
+heaven? No, this must be earth, for she had just heard a string of
+very bad words uttered by some one near her. But she could not think
+about anything. A feeling of delicious languor overpowered her, and
+slowly opening and shutting her eyes, she little by little allowed
+her surroundings to impress themselves upon her.
+
+She was very warm and comfortable; she was sitting on the floor,
+propped against the wall by means of an overturned chair and
+blankets; a fire in an open fireplace blazed beside her; Gippie was
+making his toilet before this fire, and she was very happy.
+
+"Here, sup this," some one said, and languidly lifting her eyelids,
+she saw a big red-haired man bending over her.
+
+He was holding a cup to her lips--coffee sweetened with molasses.
+Just what they used to have at the asylum, and with a faint smile,
+and a feeble "Thank you, sir," she slowly swallowed it.
+
+"I was scared to give you any before," he said, gruffly; "thought you
+might choke. Here, gimme some grub, sons."
+
+'Tilda Jane felt a morsel of something put in her mouth. It was
+followed by another morsel of something hot and savoury, and speedily
+she felt new life in her veins. She could sit up now, and look about
+her.
+
+"Guess you can feed yourself," said the man, going back to the table.
+"Fall to now--you most got to the end of your tether."
+
+'Tilda Jane took the two-pronged fork he put in her hand, and began
+to eat with slow avidity, not disregarding the requests for titbits
+from her dog, who occasionally paused for that purpose in his
+endeavours to lick himself dry.
+
+At intervals she cast a glance at the centre of the cabin, where a
+man and two boys were seated at a rough table. These must be her
+rescuers. She had fallen down in the snow the night before. Not even
+her fear of death had been able to keep her on her feet.
+
+She stopped eating. "Who be you?"
+
+"We be lumbermen, when the fit takes us," said the man, shortly.
+
+"Well," said 'Tilda Jane, "I guess--" then she stopped, overpowered
+by intense feeling.
+
+"I guess," she went on, finally, "that there wouldn't 'a' bin much o'
+me this morning if it hadn't bin for you comin'."
+
+"'Twasn't us," said the man, agreeably, "'twas Poacher there," and he
+indicated the dog under the table, who, at the mention of his name,
+rose and walked politely toward the little girl.
+
+He looked at her and she looked at him, then he took a step nearer
+and laid his muzzle on her shoulder. With exquisite subtlety he
+comprehended all that she wished to say in relation to himself, and
+all that she felt in relation to the dog race in general.
+
+She laid her cheek against his velvet ear. Then her arm stole around
+his neck.
+
+The dog stood in courteous silence, until, feeling embarrassed under
+her attention, he looked somewhat foolishly at his master, and
+appealingly licked 'Tilda Jane's cheek.
+
+As quick to understand him as he was to understand her, she released
+him, whereupon he lay down beside her and put his handsome head on
+her lap.
+
+Gippie extended his muzzle, sniffed suspiciously, then his
+short-sighted eyes discovering the presence of a rival, he advanced
+snapping.
+
+The large dog generously averted his head, and Gippie, seeing that he
+was not to be dislodged, meanly curled himself up on Poacher's glossy
+back.
+
+[Illustration: "HE LAY DOWN BESIDE HER."]
+
+"Yes, that's a boss dog," the man went on. "Search the State from
+Fort Kent to Kittery Depot, and you'll not find a cuter. He's given
+me pointers many a time--where you hail from, leetle gal?"
+
+"I'm going to Ciscasset," she said, dreamily. Her mind was running
+back to the night before, and, unaware that she was holding a piece
+of bacon poised on her fork in tempting proximity to Poacher's nose,
+she stared intently at the fire.
+
+She had been near death. Had she been near the heaven that the matron
+and the "lady-boards" pictured, or would it have been the other
+place, on account of her disobedience?
+
+"The soul that sinneth it shall die"--"For whosoever shall keep the
+whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all"--"Keep
+thyself pure"--"For without are dogs, and sorcerers, and murderers,
+and idolaters, and whosoever loveth and maketh a lie"--that meant
+without the city, the beautiful city of gold where her mother
+probably was, and many of her unknown relatives, and where all good
+matrons, orphans, and "lady-boards" went.
+
+"I guess I'd bin without, with no comfort but the dogs," she thought
+bitterly, and pushing away her plate, she said aloud, "I thank ye
+kindly, but I can't swaller another morsel."
+
+A roar of laughter saluted her ears. Gippie's inquiring muzzle had
+scented out the bacon and had seized it, whereupon Poacher, knowing
+that it was not intended for him, had gently but firmly taken it from
+him, and was walking about the cabin, holding it aloft, while Gippie
+snarled at his heels.
+
+'Tilda Jane paid no attention to them. The greater matter of her
+soul's destiny was under consideration. "Are you an extry good man?"
+she abruptly asked her host.
+
+He stopped laughing, and a shadow came over his face. Then his glance
+went to his boys. "What you say, sons?"
+
+The boys stared at each other, avoided his eye, and said, uneasily,
+"Course you be, pop--don't make game."
+
+"Make game," repeated the man, strangely, "make game," then he
+laughed shortly, and made another onslaught on the bacon and bread.
+
+"'Cause I'm lookin' for an extry good person," went on 'Tilda Jane,
+brusquely. "Some one that won't blab, an' that I kin tell a story to."
+
+"Well, thar ain't no extry good persons in the woods," said her host,
+"we be only ordinary. You better wait till you git out. What was you
+doin' so far from houses last night, leetle gal, 'stead o' bein'
+tucked snug in bed?"
+
+"I might as well tell the truth," she said, helplessly. "I'm tired o'
+lies. I was runnin' away from somethin', but whether my runnin' was
+good or bad is what I can't make out."
+
+"While you're puzzlin' you eat some more breakfus'," said the man,
+getting up and putting another supply of bacon on her plate. "You've
+got to call up strength to git out. I s'pose you dunno you're some
+miles from sofas, an' pianos, an' easy chairs."
+
+"I didn't know where I was goin'," she said, apologetically, "or what
+I was comin' to. I jus' travelled on an' on. Then I begun to get
+queery an' I left the road. Thinks I, there'll be kind animiles in
+the woods. Mebbe I'll meet a nice black bear, an' he'll say, 'Little
+girl, you're lost an' I'll lead you to my den. We'll be happy to
+have you an' your little dog, an' I'll not let no one eat him, an'
+I'll give a big party an' invite all the foxes, an' deer, an' bears
+an' squirrels 'cause you're fond o' wild beasts, little girl.' An'
+it seemed I'd come to the bear's den, an' there was a soft bed, an'
+I just lay down, an' was goin' to sleep when I thought, 'Mebbe if I
+sleep, some little bird'll tell him I'm a baddie, an' he'll eat me
+up,' an' I felt just awful; then I forgot everythin' till I woke up
+here--I guess I'm obliged to you."
+
+The lumberman was about to reply to her when one of the boys
+ejaculated, "Hist, pop, look at Poacher!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+AMONG FRIENDS.
+
+
+The animal had gone to the door, and stood in a listening attitude.
+
+"Some one's comin'," said the boy. "Is everythin' snug?"
+
+The three cast hurried glances about the room, then shaking off a
+somewhat uneasy expression, the man stepped to the one and only
+window of the cabin.
+
+"Game warden Perch," he said, dryly, "and registered guide Hersey.
+Comin' spyin' round--bad luck to 'em," and he sulkily went back to
+the table.
+
+Presently there came a knocking at the door. "Come in," bawled Lucas,
+not inhospitably, and two men, much smarter, cleaner, and more
+dapper-looking than the red-haired man and his sons, entered the
+cabin.
+
+"Howdye," they said simultaneously, as they stood their guns and
+snow-shoes against the wall, and took possession of the two boxes
+vacated by the boys at a sign from their father. Then, with an
+appearance of enjoyment, they dragged the boxes near the fire, and
+stretched out their hands to the blaze.
+
+'Tilda Jane saw that they were staring in unmitigated astonishment at
+her, and with a feeling that she herself was out of the world and in
+a place where passers-by were few and infrequent, she examined them
+in equal interest.
+
+"Where'd you come from?" asked the elder of them at last, fixing her
+with a pair of piercing eyes.
+
+"She got keeled over on the old road last night," spoke up Lucas,
+much to her relief. "Lost her way. Dog here, found her," and he
+motioned toward Poacher, who was surveying the newcomers in cold
+curiosity.
+
+Warden Perch's attention being drawn to the dog, he stared at him
+earnestly, then turned to his companion. "Ever see that animal
+before?"
+
+"Not near at hand," said the other, with a slight sneer. "Guess'
+I've seen his hind legs and the tip of his tail once or twice."
+
+"Hev some breakfus?" said Lucas, who was imperturbably going on with
+his own.
+
+Warden Perch inspected the table. "Not on bacon--haven't you got
+something more uncommon?"
+
+"We've got some beans in thar," said Lucas, with a backward nod of
+his head toward a bag on the floor, "coarse brown beans. They might
+be a treat for ye, seein' ye don't git 'em much in hotels."
+
+Perch flushed angrily and opened his mouth as if to make a retort.
+Then he drew a blank book from his pocket, and to calm himself ran
+his eye over the report he was making for the game commissioner of
+the State.
+
+"Left Nexter 10.55 A. M. March 1, for Bluefield. March 2 at Bearville
+11.30 A. M. Jim Greene's camp Lake Clear at 4.35 P. M. March 3 left
+camp at 7 A. M. Bill Emerson's camp 9.47 A. M. Reached moose yard on
+back side Fern Brook Ridge 1.47 P. M. 3 moose in yard--Henry," he
+said, lifting his head and abruptly addressing his companion, "some
+of those poachers have mighty cute tricks."
+
+Henry nodded assent.
+
+"Those fellows at Hacmactac Station tried hard to fool us last
+week,--cut the legs off the deer, then got a couple of bears' feet
+and had the bone of the bear's leg slipped up under the skin on the
+leg of the deer. Then they put them up so sly in three layers of
+bagging with nothing but bears' feet sticking out, but I caught on to
+those bears' legs, and said the feet weren't big enough. So I had it
+opened and took the deer and the fellows to Mattawamkeag, and I guess
+they think forty dollars apiece was just about enough for a fine."
+
+Lucas and his sons burst out laughing, and 'Tilda Jane shrewdly
+suspected by their amused faces and knowing glances that they
+had heard the story before. There was no love lost between these
+newcomers and her preservers, and Lucas and his sons would be glad
+when their callers left the cabin. But what was all this talk about
+deer? Surely they did not kill the pretty creatures whom without
+having seen she loved.
+
+She cleared her throat and in a weak little voice addressed the
+game warden. "Sir, I've got pictures in my joggafry of deer with
+branching horns. Does bad men kill them?"
+
+Warden Perch gave her another alert glance. Here was no confederate
+of poachers. "Yes," he said, severely, "bad men do kill them, and
+dogs chase them, but mind this, young girl--poachers get nabbed
+in the long run. They slide for a time, but there's a trip-up at
+the end. And their dogs, too--I've shot three hounds this week for
+dogging deer."
+
+"You have shot dogs!" repeated 'Tilda Jane, in a horrified tone, and
+pressing Gippie closer to her.
+
+"If I didn't shoot them, they'd kill the deer," said the man,
+irritably.
+
+"Oh!" murmured 'Tilda Jane. Here was one of the mysteries of nature
+that was quite beyond her comprehension. The dog hunted the deer, and
+the man hunted the dog. The deer apparently was the weaker one, and
+she must inquire into the matter.
+
+"What does bad men kill deer for?" she asked, timidly.
+
+"Haven't you ever eaten any deer meat?" asked the warden.
+
+"I didn't know it was good to eat," she said, sadly.
+
+"You haven't had any here in this cabin?"
+
+"I guess not, unless I might 'a' eat it when I was fainty."
+
+Lucas eyed her peculiarly, and the meaning of the warden's question
+and offensive manner burst upon her. "That's a good man," she said,
+indignantly, starting from her half-reclining position and pointing
+to Lucas. "I guess men that takes little girls out o' snow-banks
+don't kill deer."
+
+Warden Perch laughed and rose from his seat. He had very little
+sentiment with regard to the animal creation. "I calculate we'd
+better be moving," he said, to the guide. "Don't suppose we'd see
+anything to keep us here, unless we'd hang on for the big snow-storm
+they say is coming, and that I expect you're waiting for," and he
+looked at Lucas.
+
+"Me an' my sons," said the latter, coolly, "is on our way to David
+Morse's lumber camp. Two of his hands had to come out 'count o'
+sickness. We lay out to git thar this evenin'. Was late in startin'
+last night, an' camped here. We'll hev to git this leetle gal out,
+'thout you might undertake it, seein' as you're makin' for outside, I
+s'pose."
+
+"Get your own find out," said the warden, severely; "it will keep you
+out of mischief, and look here--if I find that dog of yours up to
+tricks, you know what I'll do."
+
+"Shoot him on sight," said Lucas, stooping and patting the animal
+who was pressing close to him; "but you'll never ketch him, 'cause
+he ain't the sort o' dog to be ketched in any kind o' mischief; hey,
+Poacher?"
+
+The guide went out, and the warden with a scowl followed, slamming
+the door after him.
+
+Lucas and his sons crowded to the window to see their callers depart,
+and when they were fairly out of sight, they burst into relieved
+laughter, and noisily drew their boxes up to the fire.
+
+"Say, pop, ain't he mad?" remarked Joe, excitedly. "Mad 'cause you're
+too cute for him. He'd give his teeth to fasten something on to you."
+
+"Shut up," said his father, with a roll of his eye toward 'Tilda Jane.
+
+The girl was puzzled. Lucas, who seemed a nice man, was treated as
+if he were not a friend to the deer, while the departed ones, whom
+she did not like at all, seemed to be their protectors. "Who are
+those men?" she asked, curiously.
+
+"Wal, I'll tell you," said Lucas, taking two moose ear skins from his
+pocket, and fitting them together to make a tobacco-pouch, "them two
+is fancy game men. The warden an' the guide likes to lounge in easy
+chairs round hotels an' tell of their doin's in the woods, how the
+poachers tremble an' run when they see 'em comin'. As a rule, they
+don't take to the woods till they're druv to it by some complaint.
+Then they're awful fierce, an' growl an' show their teeth, an' run
+home. Nobody don't care nothin' for 'em."
+
+"Are there many men killing deer?" asked the little girl, falteringly.
+
+"Many men!" groaned Lucas. "Law me, what a question! Las' year,
+leetle gal, thar was awful heavy snow, eight foot deep in Franklin
+County, seven foot in Somerset, Piscataquis, Penobscot, and
+Aroostook. What a year for big game! They couldn't git away. They was
+as helpless as sheep. Storm came on storm, till we was walkin' up
+among the tree branches and knockin' off the snow with a stick. Snow
+covered tracks, and poachers took possession o' the airth."
+
+"They lived high in the lumber camps, pop, do you mind?" said
+Zebedee, smacking his lips. "When a fellow was starvin' the smell
+just come out to meet him."
+
+"You bet, only you wasn't thar to smell it," said his father,
+sharply, "you mind that. You young ones takes to the woods too
+natural."
+
+He surveyed them with mingled pride and dissatisfaction, then came
+back to his reminiscences. "I vum that was a winter, but the deer
+would 'a' starved if they hadn't been shot, for the snow was so deep
+that they couldn't get to their food. That there Perch made a great
+flurry about gettin' in an' drivin' six deer to a swamp where they
+could git green stuff, but I don't believe a word of it. I believe he
+shot and ate them."
+
+"Do you mind the deer that was dogged into our yard, pop?" exclaimed
+Joe. "I saw 'em as they crossed the river--dog not fifteen foot
+behind."
+
+"And what became of that deer?" asked 'Tilda Jane, unsteadily.
+
+Lucas winked at his sons and concluded the story himself. "He run
+across our yard, an' among the bark pilers at Meek an' Sons' tannery.
+When the animal come runnin' down between the bark piles, some of the
+crew was for killin' him, but I was workin' thar, an' I wouldn't let
+'em. He stayed round close to us all day, an' when any dog come an'
+sniffed at him, he'd run up close an' tremble, an' ask us to see fair
+play."
+
+"You killed that deer," exclaimed 'Tilda Jane, bursting into tears.
+"Oh! why does God let men be so wicked?"
+
+Sobs were almost tearing her little, lean frame to pieces. She
+had not worked up gradually to a pitch of emotion, but had fallen
+immediately into it, and Lucas and his sons stared wonderingly at her.
+
+Poor little girl! She looked as if she had come through a sea of
+troubles, and pity stirred in the man's rough but not unkindly breast.
+
+"Shut up now, shut up, missy," he said, soothingly. "We did shoot
+that feller, but thar warn't nowhere to keep him, but deer has bin
+kep'. Soft now, an' I'll tell ye of Seth Winthrop, who has a park
+an' is a rich man. Las' year, when you couldn't go scarce five mile
+without seein' tracks o' blood in the snow where some one had been
+slaughterin', a moose was chased near Winthrop's place. He was so
+dead beat that he jus' stood an' trembled, an' one o' Winthrop's men
+put a halter on him, an' led him to the barnyard an' give him fodder
+an' drink, an' that livin' young moose is in Winthrop's park to-day,
+an' he weighs four hundred pound."
+
+'Tilda Jane was still sobbing, and Joe nudged his father. "Tell her
+'bout the bear, pop."
+
+"Now here's somethin' that'll make you laugh," said Lucas, kindly.
+"It's about a bad bear that went an' got drunk. I was on a fishin'
+trip, an' I had a jug o' black-strap with me. Know what that is,
+leetle gal?"
+
+"No-o-o," gasped 'Tilda Jane, who, rather ashamed of her emotion, was
+trying to sober herself.
+
+"Wal--it's the State o' Maine name for rum an' molasses mixed, an'
+you take it with you in case you git sick. There was some other men
+with me, an' they'd gone off in a boat on the lake. I had a gun,
+but 'pon my word I didn't think o' usin' it, 'count of gratitude to
+that b'ar for givin' me such a treat--just as good as a circus. Wal,
+I must tell how it happened. I didn't feel well that day--had a kind
+o' pain, an' I was lyin' on the bank in the sun, foolin' an' wishin'
+I was all right. By an' by, thinks I, I'll go to the camp an' hev
+a drink o' black-strap. I was mos' thar, when I met a wicked thief
+b'ar comin' out. Powers around, he was as tipsy as a tinker. He'd
+bin at my black-strap, an' I wish you could 'a' seen him. He didn't
+know where he was at, or where he wanted to be at, an' he was jolly,
+an' friendly, an' see-sawed roun' me, an' rolled an' swaggered till
+I tho't I'd die laughin'. My pain went like las' year's snow, an' I
+walked after that b'ar till he was out o' sight. Just like a drunken
+man he was, makin' for home, an' in the midst of all his foolery
+havin' an idea of where he'd oughter go. I'd 'a' given a good deal to
+see Mrs. B'ar's face when he arrove. An' didn't those other fellers
+give it to me for not shootin' him! I said I couldn't take a mean
+advantage of his sitooation."
+
+'Tilda Jane's face was composed now, and with a faint smile she
+reverted to the subject of the deer. "Don't you feel bad when you're
+killin' them, an' they looks at you with their big eyes?"
+
+"Look here, leetle gal, don't you talk no more 'bout them, or you'll
+hev me as mush-hearted as you be," said Lucas, getting up and going
+to the window. "At present I ain't got no feelin' about deer excep'
+that what's in the woods is ours. You jus' stand up an' try your
+feet. It's goin' to snow, an' I'd like to git you out o' here. Did
+you ever try to teeter along on snow-shoes?"
+
+"No, sir," she said, getting up and walking across the room.
+
+Lucas was anxiously surveying the sky. "'Pears like it was goin'
+to snow any minute. The las' thaw took the heft of it off the
+ground--you'd 'a' never got in this fur if it hadn't--an' we're bound
+to hev another big fall. It ain't fur to the road, an' I guess you
+an' Zebedee better start. Lemme see you walk, sissy."
+
+'Tilda Jane tottered back to her seat.
+
+"It's a smart trot home," observed Zebedee. "D'ye think she could
+foot it?"
+
+"Pop, it's snowin' now," said Joe, who had taken his father's place
+at the window.
+
+With almost incredible rapidity there had been a change in the
+weather. A small and sullen cloud had hidden the dreamy, thoughtful
+sun, and out of the cloud came wheeling, choking gusts, bearing
+bewildered snowflakes up and down, hither and thither, before
+allowing them to alight turbulently upon the quiet earth.
+
+"That's quick," muttered Lucas, philosophically. "We'll hev to put
+off opinions till it's over," and he again sat down by the fire. The
+wind tore around the small cabin, furiously seeking an entrance,
+but finding none. Outside at least he could have his will, and his
+vengeance fell upon the sturdy young firs and spruces, who at his
+fierce word of command threw off their burdens of snow, and bent
+and swayed before his wrath as wildly as the most graceful hardwood
+saplings. The older trees bent more reluctantly. They had seen many
+winters, many storms, yet occasionally a groan burst from them as
+the raging breath of the wind monster blew around some decaying giant
+and hurled him to the ground.
+
+'Tilda Jane pictured the scene without, and cowered closer to the
+fire. Gippie was on her lap, Poacher beside her, and this man with
+his two boys, who at present personified her best friends in the
+world, were safe and warm in their shelter.
+
+Her dark face cleared, and in dreamy content she listened to the
+string of hunting stories reeled off by the two boys, who, without
+addressing her directly, were evidently stimulated by the knowledge
+that here was an interested, appreciative, and "brand new" listener.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+A SUDDEN RESOLUTION.
+
+
+The storm did not abate. All day long it raged around the cabin, and
+the four prisoners talked, ate, and drank without grumbling at their
+captivity. When bedtime approached, Lucas addressed 'Tilda Jane in an
+apologetic manner. "Ye see we ain't used to havin' leetle gals, an'
+I'm afeard we can't make you very comfy, as my ole woman says, but
+we'll do the best we kin. This room's all we've got, but I'm goin'
+to try to make it two. See here," and rising, he went to one of the
+rough bunks built against the wall opposite the fire; "I'm a-goin' to
+drape ye off a place for yourself and dog," and, hanging a blanket on
+a hook by the fireplace, he called loudly for a nail to drive in the
+logs across the corner.
+
+The two boys, who were playing cards at the table, jumped up, and
+presently 'Tilda Jane had a snug corner to herself. Lucas had
+dragged out one of the fragrant fir beds from one of the bunks. The
+rustling of the evergreen inside reminded her of her narrow straw bed
+at the orphanage, and drawing the blanket over her, she nestled down
+and patiently waited for her friends to seek their equally fragrant
+couches. She was very sleepy, but she must not drop off until she had
+said her prayers. It never occurred to her to repeat them to herself.
+She must get up and say them aloud, and upon her knees.
+
+After some time there was silence outside her screen, except for the
+heavy breathing of the sleepers, and the slow, deliberate crackling
+of the fire over the fresh wood heaped upon it by Lucas.
+
+She crept quietly from her bed and knelt down. "Dear Father in
+heaven, I thank thee for saving my life. I might 'a' been dead at
+this minute if thou hadst not sent that good dog to find me. Please
+make me a better girl for being saved. I'll take good care o' that
+old man if thou wilt let me find him. Bless the red-haired man that
+owns this cabin. I guess he is a good man, Lord, but if he kills
+deer, wilt thou not lay on his heart a coal from thy altar? If he
+was a deer, he would not like to be killed. Bless him, dear Father
+in heaven, an' his two boys, an' bless me an' Gippie an' Poacher
+an' keep us safe for evermore,--an' bless the lady-boards, an' the
+matron, an' all the little orphans, an' let them find good homes an'
+get out o' the 'sylum,--Lord, I will write them a letter as soon as I
+get settled, an' confess what is wickedness, an' what ain't. I don't
+want to be a bad little girl. I want to live straight, an' go to
+heaven when I die, but I'm sorry I had to begin in a 'sylum. It ain't
+a place for children what likes animiles. For Jesus' sake, Amen."
+
+With a relieved sigh, 'Tilda Jane crept back to bed and went to
+sleep, quite unaware that her petition had awakened Lucas, who slept
+as lightly as a cat. She had waked him, and now he could not go to
+sleep. For a long time he lay motionless in his bunk, then softly
+getting up, he seated himself on one of the boxes before the fire,
+and let his head sink on his hands.
+
+Years ago he had had a deeply religious mother. One who would rise
+at dead of night and pray earnestly for her children. 'Tilda Jane's
+childish prayer had brought back this mother from her grave. What a
+good woman she had been! The dying wind, sobbing and sighing without,
+called to mind the camp-meetings that he used to attend when he was
+a boy. Churches were few and far between, and it was the event of
+the year for the scattered religious people to gather together under
+the pines for out-of-door services. He could hear the women singing
+now,--the weird sound of their voices floated down the chimney.
+Surely he was among them again,--that good, religious crowd.
+
+He shook himself, muttered an impatient exclamation, and went back to
+bed. No, they were mostly dead, his mother was in heaven, and he was
+a hard, impenitent man. But his children--something ought to be done
+about them. This little girl had stirred these old memories--Zebedee
+and Joe must quit this life, and, with a snarl of determination
+on his brow, he turned over and fell into a profound and resolved
+slumber.
+
+Early the next morning 'Tilda Jane heard some one stirring quietly
+about the cabin. She peeped from behind the screen, and found that
+it was the father of the boys. He was making coffee, and taking
+dishes from a shelf to set them on the small table. He was also
+frying meat.
+
+'Tilda Jane did not like to venture out until the boys had made
+their toilet, which they presently did by springing from their beds,
+drawing on their boots, and smoothing their thick locks with a piece
+of comb that reposed on a small shelf near a broken looking-glass.
+
+When they had finished, she piped through the screen, "Will you
+please gimme a lend o' the comb?"
+
+It was politely handed to her, and in a short time she made her
+appearance.
+
+"Ho--deer's meat!" said Joe, sniffing joyfully. "Where'd you get it,
+pop?"
+
+"Found half a carcass leanin' agin the door this mornin'," he said,
+briefly.
+
+"Some o' the boys must 'a' left it on their way out," remarked
+Zebedee. "Hard blow to travel in. Gimme some, pop."
+
+Lucas had settled himself at the table, and was eating with every
+appearance of enjoyment.
+
+"Nop," he said, pausing, and speaking with his mouth full. "That thar
+is for you an' the leetle gal."
+
+The boys stared at him in undisguised astonishment.
+
+"Fall to," he said, inexorably, "eat your bacon and beans, an' be
+thankful you've got 'em. There's many an empty stummick in the woods
+this mornin'."
+
+Joe, who was readier of speech than his brother, found his tongue
+first. "Ain't you goin' to give us any fresh meat, pop?"
+
+"No, sir-r-r."
+
+"You ain't got loony in the night, pop?"
+
+"Y' don't calklate to eat half a carcass y'rself, do ye?" said
+Zebedee, with a feeble attempt at a joke.
+
+"Nop--what I don't eat, I'll lug off in the woods."
+
+"He's loony," said Joe, with resignation, and serving himself with
+bacon.
+
+'Tilda Jane was silently eating bread and beans, and to her Lucas
+addressed himself. "Leetle gal, the storm's a-goin' to conclude
+accordin' to my reckonin'. Kin you foot it out on snow-shoes this
+mornin' to the nearest house, do you s'pose?"
+
+"Yes, sir," she said, quietly.
+
+"An' you two boys will keep her comp'ny," said Lucas, turning to his
+sons. "I'm a-goin' to march on to Morse's camp."
+
+There was a howl of dismay from Joe. "You give me your word Zebedee
+was to go."
+
+"An' I give you my word now that you're to go," said his father,
+sternly. "In an hour I'll make tracks. You two wait till the last
+flake's settled, then take the leetle gal an' git her out safe an'
+sound to William Mercer's. Ask him to hitch up an' take her over to
+Nicatoos station, an' I'll settle with him. Then you skedaddle for
+home, git out your books, an' to-morrer go to school."
+
+This time there was a simultaneous howl from the boys, and in the
+midst of their distress could be heard faintly articulated the words,
+"Pop--books--school!"
+
+Lucas turned to 'Tilda Jane. "Yes, we're poachers, leetle gal, an'
+when I ask ye to say nothin' about what ye've seen an' heard here, I
+know ye'll keep as mum as we do. I'm a poacher, an' I'm goin' to hev
+a hard time to give it up. They used to call me king o' the poachers,
+till another feller come along smarter nor I was. Anyway, I can't
+give it up yet. It's in my blood now, an' men as ole as I be don't
+repent easy. It's when ye're young an' squshy that you repents. But
+these two cubs o' mine," and he eyed his boys with determination,
+"has got to give up evil ways right off. Ye've got to go to school,
+sons, an' learn somethin', an' quit poachin', an' hevin' the law
+hangin' over ye all the time."
+
+The boys looked ugly and rebellious, and, perceiving it, he went on.
+"Come now, none o' that; when ye're respectable, hard-workin' men
+ye'll be ashamed o' your father, an' that'll be my punishment if I
+don't get out o' this. An' you needn't kick, 'cause I'll lick ye all
+to splinters if I ketches one o' you in the woods this spring. Ye've
+got to turn right round."
+
+"I'll turn right round an' come back," said Zebedee, bitterly and
+furiously.
+
+Lucas got up, took him by the coat collar, and, without a word, led
+him outside the cabin.
+
+A few minutes later they returned--both flushed--Lucas grim and
+determined, and Zebedee sulky and conquered.
+
+"Air you also cravin' for an argyment?" asked Lucas, ironically, of
+Joe.
+
+"I'm cravin' to lick you," said the boy, bursting out into a wild
+raving and swearing at him.
+
+"Swearin' when there is ladies present," said his father, seizing him
+by the shoulder, and dragging him the way his brother had gone.
+
+'Tilda Jane stopped eating, and sat miserably with downcast eyes.
+She felt dimly that she had made trouble in this family, and brought
+additional misfortune upon herself, for what kind of escorts would
+these whipped boys be?
+
+Lucas's tussle with Joe was a longer one than the former with Zebedee
+had been, and not until after some time did he return. Joe hung about
+outside for an hour, then he came in, shaking and stamping the snow
+from him, and, as if nothing had happened, sat down and finished his
+breakfast.
+
+Lucas, meanwhile, had been making preparations for his long tramp.
+'Tilda Jane watched him with interest as he took a sack, tied a
+potato in each corner, and proceeded to fill it with parcels of
+provisions.
+
+When at last he sat down, took off his cow-hide moccasins, and began
+to tie on soft moose moccasins, fit for snow-shoeing, he addressed
+his two boys.
+
+"When parients tell their children things air to be did, they ought
+to be did. When the children raves an' tears, they ought to be
+licked, an' when the lickin's over, the reasons come. Air you sighin'
+either o' ye to see the inside o' State's prison? Air you, Zebedee?"
+
+"No, sir," said the boy, shortly.
+
+"Air you, Joe?"
+
+Joe, with his mouth full of beans, replied that he was not.
+
+"Wal, that's where you'll land if ye don't quit breakin' State's law.
+Ye ain't either o' ye as clever as I be, but I've got to try to give
+it up, too. I've bin feelin' that ye'd git caught some day, and I've
+made up my mind, an' I'll hold it to my dyin' day. I'm goin' to crowd
+ye out o' this risky game. If I ketch one o' you after deer agin,
+I'll give ye up to the warden myself. I swan I will," and he brought
+his hand down energetically on the table. "Now you go home an' go to
+school with smart boys an' gals till summer vacation, then ye can
+tell me what ye think of it. I'll not pretend I'll let ye out of it
+if ye don't like it, but I guess ye will. Ye've bin to school before
+an' made good progress, an' I asks yer pardon for takin' ye out."
+
+Zebedee listened in quiet resentfulness, but Joe, who possessed a
+more volatile disposition, and who having satisfied his hunger was
+comparatively good-natured, remarked, "What'll ye do about Poacher,
+pop?"
+
+Lucas's face darkened suddenly, and unhappily.
+
+"Come here, ole boy," he said, and when the dog went to him, he bowed
+his head for a minute over him. "We've bin good friends--me an' you.
+Many's the trap I've led ye in, an' many a time my heart would 'a'
+bin sore if ye'd a bin caught. An' now, 'count o' my transgression,
+ye're a wanderin' sheep. Ye'll never git back in the fold agin unless
+some good sheep leads ye."
+
+"There's somethin' you can't make over," said Zebedee, briefly.
+"He'll chase deer as long as he kin wag a leg."
+
+"Leetle gal," said Lucas, suddenly, "would ye like to hev this dog?"
+
+"To have him--that beauty dog!" 'Tilda Jane gasped, confusedly. "Oh,
+sir, you'd never give him away."
+
+"I'd most as soon give a child away," said Lucas, "an' I'd never do
+it, if it warn't for his habits. Ye're a-goin' to Ciscasset, which is
+somethin' of a place, an' a ways from the woods. An' ye'll pet him
+an' kinder cherish him, an' keep him from frettin' an' bein' lonely.
+My ole woman don't set much store by dogs, an' when I'm workin' in
+the tannery he's off doggin' deer by himself. He's nearly got shot
+dead. See those ripples in his back? That's where he's bin grazed.
+Poacher, ole boy, you've got to go with this leetle gal, if she'll
+hev you."
+
+'Tilda Jane hesitated, stammered, looked into the dog's anxious face,
+and the boys' protesting ones, and said at last, "But the ole man
+where I'm goin', mebbe he'll breach at my havin' two dogs."
+
+"Prob'bly he will," said Lucas, "but you crowd right up to him.
+Folks is queer 'bout dogs. Them as don't like 'em don't want to give
+'em standin' room on this airth, but you walk right up to 'em an'
+say, 'This dog has as good a right to a place on God's footstool as
+you hev, an' I'm goin' to see he gits it. If you was more like a
+dog yerself, ye'd be more thought of, ye cross-grained, cranky ole
+skillingsby'--come you, sons, quit that scowlin'. Do ye know why I'm
+givin' that dog to the little gal stid o' you?"
+
+They uttered a brief negative.
+
+"'Cause she knows dog language," said Lucas, dropping his voice to a
+whisper, and looking mysteriously over his shoulder, "an' if there
+was a deer here, you'd find she knowed deer talk. You, sons, is fond
+o' dogs, but not in the style the leetle gal is, or I be. It's a kind
+o' smartness at gettin' inside the animal's skin. He don't verily
+talk. Ye jist understan' him without talk--leetle gal, what's Poacher
+sayin' now?"
+
+"Oh, he don't want to go with me," burst out 'Tilda Jane, with
+energy. "He's a sick dog. Look at his eyes an' his droopin' ears. He
+don't want you to give him away. He don't want me to take him. Oh, I
+can't!" and she buried her face in her hands as if to hide temptation
+from her.
+
+"He's got to go," said Lucas, stroking Poacher's head, "an' mind
+me, dog," and he put his hand under the dog's jaws and lifted them
+so that he could look in his eyes, "no runnin' away from Ciscasset.
+Ye stay with that leetle gal. Don't ye come chasin' round here,
+'cause if ye do, I'll turn my back on ye for a runaway, an' ye'll
+feel worse'n ye do now when we part on speakin' terms. Say, is it a
+bargain, ole feller? Call him, leetle gal."
+
+'Tilda Jane was overawed by Lucas's determined manner, and dropping
+her hands she ejaculated feebly, "Here, Poacher, Poacher!"
+
+The dog looked at her, then pressed closer to his master, whereupon
+Lucas seized a stick by the fireplace, and struck him sharply.
+
+Poacher turned his large brown eyes on him in one despairing,
+reproachful glance, then with drooping head sauntered across the room
+to the boys.
+
+"Call him," said Lucas to 'Tilda Jane. "Speak up as if ye knew he was
+your dog."
+
+"Poacher," she said, in a firm voice, "come here. You're mos' as
+unhappy as I be--we'll be unhappy together."
+
+The suffering animal moved slowly toward her, and laid his head on
+her lap.
+
+There were tears in his eyes, and the little girl groaned as she
+wiped them away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+FAREWELL TO THE POACHERS.
+
+
+Lucas was ready to start, and 'Tilda Jane and the boys stood in the
+doorway watching him tie on his snow-shoes.
+
+"Now, sons," he said, straightening himself up and drawing on his
+woollen mittens, "I'm goin' one way an' you another, but if ye act
+contrairy an' pouty to that leetle gal, I'll know it, for she's
+goin' to write me, an' if there's any complaint, there'll be such a
+wallopin' as these ones this mornin' would be a shadder an' a dream
+to."
+
+His lecture over, he looked over his shoulder and narrowly inspected
+the faces of his two boys. They were reserved, almost expressionless.
+It might be a month before he saw them again. He forgot 'Tilda Jane
+for an instant, "Sons--ye know yer pop loves ye, don't ye?"
+
+His tone had suddenly changed, and the two big boys ran to him as
+if they still were children. "Pop, can't we come back after we take
+her out?" they exclaimed, with backward jerks of their heads toward
+'Tilda Jane. Their hands were on his arms, and they were roughly
+fondling his shoulders--these two unmannerly cubs of his.
+
+"Sons," he said, in a broken voice, "I ain't been a good father to
+ye. I've got to spend the last o' my life in rootin' up the weeds I
+sowed the fust part. I don't want you to have such a crop. Now you go
+'long out an' be good sons. Your mother'll be sot up, an' you mind
+what she says, an' I'll soon come home. Take good care o' the leetle
+gal," and passing his hand, first over one brown head, then over the
+other, he tramped away out of view among the snowy spruces.
+
+The boys and 'Tilda Jane went back into the cabin. The two former sat
+together by the fire and talked, taking little notice of her. All
+their friendliness of the evening before was gone, yet they were not
+openly unkind, but simply neglectful. Toward noon the snow ceased
+falling, as Lucas had predicted, the sun came out brilliantly, and
+they began making preparations for departure.
+
+Zebedee was to wear an old pair of snow-shoes that had been left in
+the cabin, and 'Tilda Jane was to put on his new ones. Her humility
+and unselfishness slightly thawed the boys' reserve, and when they at
+last started, her ridiculous attempts at snow-shoeing threw them into
+fits of laughter.
+
+Zebedee carried the infirm Gippie, who otherwise would have sunk to
+his neck in the snow, Poacher soberly plunged his way along, while
+Joe assisted 'Tilda Jane in keeping her equilibrium. After an hour's
+travel, she had become quite expert in the art of taking wide steps,
+and no longer needed his helping hand.
+
+"Air we mos' there?" she asked.
+
+"In the span of another hour and a half," said Joe.
+
+The hour and a half went by. They tramped on under the serene blue of
+the sky, and in such a solemn stillness that it seemed as if never a
+bird nor beast could have inhabited this white wilderness. Only the
+voiceless, silent trees were there, clad all in white like ghosts
+of departed living things. But at last their winding way through
+the wood came to an end, and they stepped out on the old road. Here
+were evidences of travel. A few teams had passed by, and there were
+snow-shoe tracks alongside those of the sleigh runners.
+
+The trees also grew more sparsely, and soon gave place to clearings,
+then the distant roof of a barn appeared, and finally a long, thin
+string of small farmhouses winding down a bleak road before them.
+
+"Is this your home?" asked 'Tilda Jane, of the boys.
+
+"Nop," answered Joe, "we live off'n that way," and he pointed down a
+road to the left. "But we've got to take you here to the Mercers',
+pop said."
+
+He drew up before the first in the string of houses,--a poor
+enough place, and unspeakably chilling in its deathly whiteness. A
+tiny white house, a white barn, a white fence, a white cow in the
+yard,--white snow over everything.
+
+"Looks as if they'd all died an' gone to heaven," thought 'Tilda
+Jane, with a shiver.
+
+"Hole on," said Joe. "I'll run ahead an' see if the folks is home.
+Ain't no smoke cornin' out o' the chimney."
+
+He swung open the gate, hurried in, pounded at the front door,
+pounded at the back door, and finally returned. "Guess there mus' be
+a funeral or somethin'--all off, anyway. What'll we do, Zeb?"
+
+Zebedee shrugged his shoulders. "S'pose we go nex' door?"
+
+"But them's the Folcutts," objected Joe.
+
+"S'pose they be."
+
+"Well, you know--"
+
+"Guess they kin drive as well as Mercer's folks."
+
+"What would pop say?"
+
+"It's nearer than the nex' house."
+
+"I'm kind o' tired," said 'Tilda Jane, politely and faintly. "Just
+drop me, an' you go back. I'll find some one."
+
+"Nop," said Joe, firmly, "we promised pop."
+
+"Come on," said Zebedee, "let's try the Folcutts."
+
+They went slowly on to the next blot on the landscape,--this one, a
+low-roofed, red house with untidy windows, and a feeble, wavering
+line of smoke rising from the kitchen chimney.
+
+They all went around to the back door, and, in response to their
+knock a slatternly woman appeared.
+
+"What you want, boys?"
+
+"Pop says will you take this gal to Nicatoos station?" asked Joe.
+"He'll square up with you when he comes out."
+
+The woman looked 'Tilda Jane all over. "The roads is main heavy."
+
+'Tilda Jane leaned up against the door-post, and the woman relented.
+"I guess it won't kill our hoss," she remarked. "Is it the seven
+o'clocker you want?"
+
+'Tilda Jane appealed to the boys.
+
+"Yes, m'am," responded Joe, promptly.
+
+"Needn't start for an hour yit. Come on in, boys."
+
+"I guess we'll be goin' on home," said Zebedee.
+
+Joe, for some reason or other, seemed reluctant to leave 'Tilda Jane.
+He carefully lifted Gippie to a resting-place by the kitchen stove,
+untied 'Tilda Jane's snow-shoes and strapped them on his back,
+stroked Poacher repeatedly, and finally with a hearty "So long,
+little gal, let's hear from you," he made her an awkward bob of his
+head and ran after his brother, who had reached the road.
+
+'Tilda Jane drew up to the stove, and, while she sat drying her
+dress, looked about her. What a dirty kitchen! The log cabin she had
+just left was neatness itself compared with this place. Pots and pans
+were heaped in a corner of the room, the table was littered with
+soiled dishes, the woman herself was unkempt, frowsy, and dispirited
+in appearance.
+
+She was also cunning, for, while she seized a broom and stirred about
+the accumulation of dust on the floor, she inspected the little girl
+with curious, furtive glances.
+
+"You bin stoppin' with the Lucases?" she asked, at last.
+
+She had opened the door, and while she looked one way she carelessly
+tried to sweep in another way the pile of rubbish she had collected.
+
+"Yes, m'am," said 'Tilda Jane, wearily.
+
+"How's Mis' Lucas?"
+
+'Tilda Jane paused to gaze out the open door. Why did not the woman
+shut it? And why, when it was so pure and clean without, did she
+not feel ashamed to keep so dull and untidy a house? If it were
+summer-time, and the ground were brown and green, this dun-coloured
+room would not be so bad, but now--the contrast made her sick.
+
+"How's Mis' Lucas?" repeated her hostess, in a dull voice.
+
+"I don't know," replied 'Tilda Jane.
+
+Mrs. Folcutt poised herself on her broom and with rustic deliberation
+weighed the statement just made. Then she said, "She ain't gone away?"
+
+"I dunno," said 'Tilda Jane, "I never see her in my life."
+
+Here was a puzzle, and Mrs. Folcutt pondered over it in silence,
+until the draught of chilly air made her remember to close the door.
+
+"Are we to start soon?" inquired 'Tilda Jane, after a time.
+
+"I ain't a-goin' to take you," said her hostess, unamiably, "it's
+Uzziah--Uzziah!" and she went to an open stairway leading from the
+kitchen.
+
+"What cher want?" came back, in an impatient tone.
+
+"You're wanted. Passenger for the station."
+
+A boy speedily appeared. 'Tilda Jane was not prepossessed in his
+favour as he came lumbering down the staircase, and she was still
+less so when he stood before her. He had his mother's sharp face,
+lean head, and cunning eyes, and he was so alarmingly dirty that she
+found herself wondering whether he had ever touched water to his face
+and hands since the winter began.
+
+"Go hitch up an' take this gal to the station," said his mother, in
+feeble command.
+
+He stood scrutinising 'Tilda Jane. "Who fur?"
+
+"Bob Lucas."
+
+"How much'll he gimme?"
+
+"I dunno. He'll pay when he comes out."
+
+"S'pose the warden ketches him?"
+
+"He ain't bin ketched yit."
+
+"He's goin' to--so they say at the post-office."
+
+"I've got fifty cents," said 'Tilda Jane, with dignity. "Here it is,"
+and she laid it on the table.
+
+The youthful fox snatched at it, and grinned at his mother as he
+pocketed it.
+
+"Say--that ain't fair," remarked 'Tilda Jane. "You ain't kerried me
+yet."
+
+"She's right," said the more mature fox. "Give it back, Uzzy."
+
+Uzziah unwillingly restored the coin to 'Tilda Jane.
+
+"Now go hitch up," said his mother.
+
+He sidled out of the room and disappeared, and Mrs. Folcutt's
+covetous eye wandered over 'Tilda Jane's wearing apparel. "Say,
+sissy, that's a pooty fair shawl you took off'n your dog. I always
+favour stripes."
+
+"So do I," replied 'Tilda Jane, and, with a premonition of what was
+coming, she turned her head and gazed out the window.
+
+"I guess you might as well square up with us," said the slatternly
+woman, seating herself near her caller and speaking in' persuasive
+accents, "and then you'll not hev to be beholden to Bob Lucas. It's
+jus' as well for a nice little gal like you to hev no dealin's with
+them Lucases."
+
+"That shawl ain't mine," said 'Tilda Jane, sharply.
+
+This statement did not seem worth challenging by the woman, for she
+went on in the same wheedling voice, "You'll not hev no call for it
+on the cars. I kin lend you somethin' for the dog to ride down in.
+It's too good for wrappin' him," and she gazed contemptuously at
+Gippie.
+
+'Tilda Jane drew in her wandering gaze from the window, and fixed it
+desperately on Poacher, who was lying under the stove winking sadly
+but amiably at her. Was no one perfect? Lucas hunted deer, this good
+dog helped him, his boys were naughty, this woman was a sloven and a
+kind of thief, her boy was a rogue, and she herself--'Tilda Jane was
+a little runaway girl. "You can have this tippet," she said, sternly.
+"That shawl's got to be sent back to where it comes from."
+
+"Oh, you stole it, did ye?" said the woman, with a sneer. "Well,
+I guess we kin hitch up for no thieves," and she got up and moved
+deliberately toward the door as if she would recall her son.
+
+'Tilda Jane's nimble fancy ran over possibilities. She had fallen
+among sharpers, she must be as sharp as they. Her offensive manner
+fell from her. "Look here," she said, bluntly, "I ain't got one
+mite o' money but that fifty-cent piece. If your boy'll drive me to
+Nicatoos right off, I'll give him that as I said, an' I'll send back
+the shawl by him. But if you don't want to do it, speak right up, an'
+I'll move on to the next house, and," she continued boldly as she saw
+consent on the cunning face, "you've got to give me somethin' to eat
+an' drink with it, 'cause I've got two dogs to take care of, an' I
+don't want to get to Ciscasset and tumble over from bein' fainty."
+
+Mrs. Folcutt's gray face became illumined by a silly smile. There was
+not a shawl like that in the settlement, and bustling to her feet,
+she stroked it and felt it with admiring fingers, until admonished by
+'Tilda Jane that time was passing, and if she was going to get her
+anything to eat she had better be quick about it.
+
+The little girl almost choked over the sloppy tea from the venerable
+teapot, the shady bread and butter, and the composite dish of
+preserves set before her, yet resolutely shutting her eyes she ate
+and drank, and forced Gippie to do the same. Poacher would touch
+nothing. "Don't ye know them huntin' dogs eats only once a day?" said
+Mrs. Folcutt, contemptuously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+AN ATTEMPTED TRICK.
+
+
+"How fur are we from Nicatoos?" inquired 'Tilda Jane of her
+charioteer one hour later.
+
+"A matter of a mile," he replied, beating his disengaged hand upon
+his knees. He was sulky and cold, and 'Tilda Jane averted her glance
+from him to his small brown nag, who was trotting along as cheerfully
+as if there were a reward at the end of the drive for him.
+
+He was a curious little horse. Surely there never before was one with
+such a heavy coat of hair. He looked like a wild animal, and with
+gladness of heart she noted his fat sides. The Folcutts might be mean
+and untidy, but they certainly were good to this faithful friend, and
+her mind went off in puzzled reflection.
+
+She was pursuing the same line of thought of an hour before. No one
+was perfect, yet no one was wholly bad. There was good in everybody
+and everything. Poacher was a bad dog in some respects, and she cast
+a glance at him as he came trotting sleek and thoughtful behind the
+sleigh, but what a noble character he was in other respects! Gippie
+was a crank, and she pressed closer the small animal beside her, but
+he had his good points, and he was certainly a great comfort to her.
+
+Her heart was much lighter now that she was drawing nearer to
+the train that was to take her to Ciscasset, and in raising her
+little, weary head gratefully to the sky, she noted in quick and
+acute appreciation an unusually beautiful sunset. The colours were
+subdued--the sky was as hard and as cold as steel, but how clear,
+how brilliantly clear and calm! She would have fine weather for her
+arrival in her new home.
+
+She was glad that she was not to stay here. She felt herself quite a
+travelled orphan now, and somewhat disdainfully classed this rough
+settlement as "back-woodsy." The houses were uninviting and far
+apart, the roads and yards were desolate. The men were in the woods,
+the women and children were inside huddling around the fires. Middle
+Marsden was a quiet place, but it had not seemed as much out of the
+world as this. She hoped Ciscasset would be cheerful. Her travels
+had given her a liking for meeting new faces, and for enjoying
+some slight excitement. Not as much as she had had during the last
+few days--no, not as much as that. It was too trying for her, and
+she smiled faintly as she called up her last vision of her little
+careworn face in the cracked looking-glass in the log cabin.
+
+"What's the matter?" she asked, abruptly.
+
+The sleigh had come to a sudden standstill, and the boy was holding
+the lines in dogged silence.
+
+"Why don't you drive on?" she asked.
+
+"Now you jus' looky here," he replied, in a rough and bullying tone.
+"I ain't a-goin' one step furder. I'm mos' froze, an' the station's
+right ahead. You foller yer nose a spell, an' you'll git thar. Gimme
+the shawl an' the fifty cents, an' git out."
+
+For one moment 'Tilda Jane sat in blank amazement. Then she looked
+from his dirty, obstinate face to the plump pony. The latter showed
+no signs of fatigue. He could go for miles yet. If he had made a
+plea for the harness, she would not have so much wondered, for it was
+patched and mended with rope in a dozen places.
+
+Then her blood slowly reached boiling-point. She had stood a good
+deal from these Folcutts. The shawl was worth five dollars. That she
+knew, for she remembered hearing the matron tell how much it had cost
+her. She had overpaid them for this drive, and she was not prepared
+to flounder on through the snow and perhaps miss her train.
+
+Her mind, fertile in resources, speedily hit upon something. She must
+get this bully out of the sleigh, and she fixed him with a glance
+more determined than his own. He had on a rough homespun suit of
+clothes, and a home-made cap to match it. This cap was pulled tightly
+over his ears, but it was not on tight enough to resist 'Tilda Jane's
+quick and angry fingers.
+
+Plucking it off, she threw it over a snake fence into a snow-bank,
+saying at the same time, "If you're goin' to turn me out, I'll turn
+you out first."
+
+The boy was furious, but the cold wind smote his head, and,
+postponing retaliation, he sprang first for his cap, shouting
+warningly, however, as he swung his leg over the fence, "I'll make
+you pay up for this, you--"
+
+'Tilda Jane neither heard nor cared for the offensive epithet applied
+to her. With feet firmly braced, both hands grasping the lines,
+Gippie beside her, and Poacher racing behind, she was sweeping down
+the road. She had never driven a horse before in her life, but she
+adored new experiences, and she had carefully watched every motion of
+the young lout beside her.
+
+He could scarcely believe his eyes. He gaped speechless for a few
+minutes, for the sound of the sleigh-bells had made him turn sharply
+as he was picking up his cap. Then he restored the covering to his
+head, ran to the fence, and bawled, helplessly, "Stop thar--stop!
+Stop!"
+
+'Tilda Jane was skimming gaily around a turn in the road toward the
+sunset. He thought he heard a jeering laugh from her, but he was
+mistaken. Having got what she wanted, she was going obliviously on
+her way. The boy had been an obstacle, and she had brushed him aside.
+
+[Illustration: "'STOP THAR--STOP! STOP!'"]
+
+With his slower brain he was forced to pause and deliberate. Had she
+stolen their rig? Stupid as he was, the conviction forced itself
+upon him that she had not. She could not take the rig on the train,
+anyway, and plucking up courage, and shivering in the cold that had
+seized upon him during his deliberations, he meditatively and angrily
+began to plod over the route that he had recommended to her.
+
+Three-quarters of an hour later, he drew into the station yard. The
+train had come and gone, and his eager eyes went to the pony tied
+safe and sound under the shed, with not only the lap-robe over his
+back, but also the striped shawl--the first and last time that he
+would have the pleasure of wearing it.
+
+At the sound of the bells when he turned the sleigh, the telegraph
+operator came to the station door. "Here's fifty cents for you, left
+by a black-eyed girl."
+
+Without a "thank you," the boy held out his hand.
+
+"I guess you don't like that black-eyed girl much," said the young
+man, teasingly.
+
+"She's a--" and the boy broke into an oath.
+
+"Shut up!" said the young man, with a darkening face. Then with some
+curiosity he went on, "What did she do to make you talk like that?"
+
+"Spilt me out," replied the boy, with another volley of bad language.
+
+"You young hound," said the man, witheringly, "if she spilt you
+out, I'll bet you deserved it. I'll not touch your dirty hand. If
+you want your money, go find it," and throwing the fifty cents in a
+snow-drift, he went back into the warm station and slammed the door
+behind him.
+
+Uzziah's troubles were not over, and he had still to learn that the
+way of the transgressor is a tiresome one. He fumbled desperately in
+the snow, for he wanted fifty cents above all things in the world
+just then, but he was destined not to find it; and at last, cold,
+weary, and yet with all his faults not inclined to wreak his wrath
+on the pony who stood patiently watching him, he threw himself into
+the sleigh and sped gloomily homeward. His mother had the shawl, but
+he had nothing for his trouble, for he counted as nothing and worse
+than nothing his experience of the maxim that one sly trick inspires
+another.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+HOME, SWEET HOME.
+
+
+'Tilda Jane was in a quandary. She had boarded the train for
+Ciscasset, she sat up very straight and apparently very composed--her
+outward demeanour gave not a hint of the turmoil within. In reality
+she was full of trouble. She had not a cent of money in her pocket,
+and her new familiarity with the workings of the Maine Central
+Railway assured her that it did not carry passengers for nothing.
+
+What was she to do? She pulled the little tippet more closely around
+Gippie's shoulders. She had taken it from her own, for it was
+absolutely necessary for him to have another covering now that the
+shawl was gone. Perhaps he would be taken away from her. She had
+noticed that it was not a customary thing for people to travel with
+dogs. His head and tail were plainly visible--this tippet was not
+like the voluminous shawl.
+
+Lucas had not offered her money, and she had not liked to ask him for
+it. Perhaps he had not thought about it. Perhaps if he did think of
+it, he supposed that he was doing enough to get her to Nicatoos--and
+there was the conductor entering the other end of the car. She must
+do something, and deliberately rising from her seat, she slipped
+Gippie under her arm, and made her way out to the platform of the
+fast moving train.
+
+It was quite dark now. She gave one side glance at the white, silent
+country they were passing through, then stepped into the lighted car
+ahead.
+
+"This is a smoking-car, young girl," observed some one, haughtily.
+
+'Tilda Jane had dropped into the first seat she came to, which
+happened to be beside a very stout and very dignified gentleman who
+had a cigar in his mouth, and who was reading a newspaper.
+
+She looked round, saw that there were a number of men in the car--no
+women, no children, and that the atmosphere was a hazy blue.
+
+"Smoke don't bother me," she said, almost scornfully. What was a
+breath of smoke compared with her inward discomposure over her
+pecuniary difficulties?
+
+"I'm in a little trouble," she said, brusquely, "I ain't got money to
+buy a ticket."
+
+The gentleman gazed at her suspiciously. "I have no money for
+beggars," he said, and he turned his broad back squarely on her.
+
+'Tilda Jane, for one so obstinate, was strangely sensitive. With
+her face in a flame of colour, she rose. Had any one else heard the
+insult? No, not a man in the car was looking her way.
+
+"I'm a poor little girl," she breathed over the gentleman's
+substantial shoulder, "but I'm no beggar. I guess I work as hard as
+you do. I wanted you to lend me a dollar or so to be sent back in a
+letter, but I wouldn't take it now--no, not if you crawled after me
+on your hands an' knees like a dog holdin' it in your mouth," and
+precipitately leaving him, she sauntered down the aisle.
+
+The gentleman turned around, and with an amazed face gazed after
+her. Stay--there she was pausing by the seat in which was his son.
+Should he warn him against the youthful adventuress? No, he was old
+enough to take care of himself, and he settled back in his corner and
+devoted himself to his paper.
+
+The only person in the last seat in the car was a lad of seventeen
+or eighteen who was neither reading nor smoking, but lounging across
+it, while he suppressed innumerable yawns. He was very handsome, and
+he looked lazy and good-natured, and to him 'Tilda Jane accordingly
+addressed herself. She had hesitated, after the rebuff she had
+received, to apply to any of those other men with their resolved,
+middle-aged or elderly faces. This lad she was not at all afraid of,
+and resting Gippie on the arm of his seat, she stared admiringly at
+him.
+
+He straightened himself. Here was something interesting, and his
+yawns ceased.
+
+"Well, miss, what can I do for you?" he inquired, mischievously, as
+she continued to stare at him without speaking.
+
+He would lend her the money, she knew it before she asked him. There
+was something else in her mind now, and her little sharp eyes were
+full of tears.
+
+"Is anything the matter with you?" he asked, politely.
+
+She could not answer him for a few seconds, but then she swallowed
+the lump in her throat and ejaculated, "No, sir, only you are so
+pretty."
+
+"Pretty!" he repeated, in bewilderment.
+
+"Yes," she said in low, passionate, almost resentful tones, "you
+ain't got no 'casion for those blue eyes an' that yeller hair. I wish
+I could take 'em away from you. I'd 'a' been 'dopted if I had 'em. I
+wouldn't be standin' here."
+
+"Won't you sit down?" he asked, courteously, and with a flattered
+air. He was very young, and to have a strange child melt into tears
+at the sight of his handsome face was a compliment calculated to
+touch even an older heart than his.
+
+'Tilda Jane, with a heavy sigh, seated herself beside him. "I'm kind
+o' put out," she said, languidly, "you must s'cuse me."
+
+After her interest in him, he could do nothing less than murmur a
+civil inquiry as to the cause of her concern.
+
+"I've been tryin' to borrer money," she replied, "an' I was 'sulted."
+
+"To borrow money--then you are short of funds?"
+
+"Yes, sir," she said, calmly, "I'm a-travellin', but I ain't got no
+money to pay for me nor for this dog, an' his head an' tail shows
+this time, an' he'll be nabbed."
+
+"Where are you going?" asked the lad.
+
+"To Ciscasset, sir, if I ever get there. I'm beginnin' to think there
+ain't no such place."
+
+"I assure you there is, for I live in it myself."
+
+"Do you?" she ejaculated, with a flash of interest. "Do you know a
+man by the name of Hobart Dillson?"
+
+"Rather--he was my father's bookkeeper for years. We pension him
+now," he added, grandly, and with a wish to impress.
+
+'Tilda Jane was not impressed, for she did not know what a pension
+was.
+
+"What kind of a feller is he?" she asked, eagerly.
+
+"Oh, a sort of tiger--might be in a cage, you know, but we haven't
+got one big enough."
+
+"You mean he gets mad easy?"
+
+"Never gets un-mad. Always stays so. Is a regular joke, you know.
+Going to visit him?"
+
+"I'm goin' to be his housekeeper," said 'Tilda Jane, with dignity.
+
+The lad cast a rapid and amused glance over her small resolved
+figure, then taking his handkerchief from his pocket, turned his face
+to the window, and coughed vigorously.
+
+"I can fight, too," she added, after a pause, "but--" slowly, "I
+sha'n't fight him."
+
+The lad did not turn around except to throw her one gleam from the
+corner of a laughing eye, until she ejaculated uneasily, "There comes
+the conductor--are you a-goin' to lend me some money?"
+
+His face reappeared--quite sober now. "Well, young lady, I am not
+a capitalist, but I think I can raise you a loan. How much do you
+want--that is, where did you come on?"
+
+"I come on at Nicatoos, an' I've another dog in the baggage-car."
+
+"Travelling with two dogs," he murmured, "and short of funds. You
+have courage!"
+
+"I like some animiles better'n some people," observed 'Tilda Jane,
+sententiously.
+
+"Your sentiment does you credit," he replied, gravely, and as the
+conductor approached, he held out his hand. "I pay for this little
+girl and her dog in the baggage-car."
+
+"That's a fine hound you've got," the conductor observed, civilly, to
+'Tilda Jane.
+
+"Yes, sir," she replied, meekly. "I hope he ain't scared o' the
+train."
+
+"He don't like it much, but some of the boys have been playing with
+him. Why--" and he drew back in surprise, "you're the obstinate young
+one I pointed out to the inspector the other day. Here--you needn't
+pay," and he put in her hand the money her new friend had just given
+him. "There was a great racket about you. You needn't have run away
+from Vanceboro--if you'd spoken the truth, you'd saved yourself and
+us a lot of trouble. However, I guess they'll be glad to hear you're
+all right."
+
+"I'll be 'bliged if you'll give my respecks to Mr. Jack," she said,
+steadily.
+
+"I'll do it," said the conductor, "and tell him you've picked up
+another dog," and with a wink at her companion, he passed on.
+
+"Accep' my thanks," she said, after a time, handing the loose change
+in her lap to the lad.
+
+"Keep it," he replied, generously. "I don't want it."
+
+A grim flash like a streak of lightning passed over her dark face,
+and he added, hastily, "As a loan, of course. You may need money for
+your dogs. Old Hobart will begrudge them a bone, I assure you."
+
+She thanked him, and thoughtfully tied the money in a corner of her
+handkerchief.
+
+"Now if his son were home, he would be different. Hank is a rattling,
+good-natured sort of a fellow. No principle, you know, but not a
+tiger by any means."
+
+"I'll thank you, sir, to keep a stiff tongue when you're talkin'
+of Hank Dillson," observed 'Tilda Jane, severely. "He's done me
+favours, an' you'd better keep your tongue off his father, too. If
+you're dyin' to pitch into some one, pitch into that selfish ole tub
+a-readin' that big paper up there. He turned his back on me when I
+hinted round him for the loan of a dollar or so."
+
+"And I'll thank you to keep a stiff tongue when you speak of that
+gentleman," said the lad, smartly, "for he's my father."
+
+"Your father!" echoed 'Tilda Jane, in astonishment.
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Did he once have blue eyes an' curly hair?"
+
+"I believe so. He's a good-looking man yet."
+
+"He's a--" began 'Tilda Jane, hurriedly, then she stopped short. "Law
+me--I'll never learn to forgive folks before the sun goes down; I'm
+gettin' wickeder an' wickeder. What's your name, sir? I'll want to
+send you this money soon's I earn some."
+
+"My name is Datus Waysmith, and my father is the biggest lumber
+merchant on the Ciscasset River."
+
+"Is he?" she said, wistfully, "an' have you got more family?"
+
+"Yes, I have a mother as pretty as a picture, and three sisters."
+
+"An' you have a nice room with a fire that ain't boxed up, an' you
+sit round, an' no other folks come in, an' no bells ring for you to
+get up and do somethin'?"
+
+"We have loads of rooms in our house," said the lad, boastfully.
+"It's the biggest one in Ciscasset. You'll soon find out where we
+live. Here we are most in--Iceboro next, then home," and he flattened
+his face against the glass.
+
+Outside in the dark night, bright lights appeared, danced over the
+snowy country, then disappeared. The train was running through the
+outskirts of a prosperous town.
+
+"Is Ciscasset a nice place?" asked 'Tilda Jane, wistfully.
+
+"Slowest old place that ever was. I'd like to live in Bangor or
+Portland. There's something going on there. We've nothing but a
+river, and mills, and trees, and hills--not a decent theatre in the
+place."
+
+'Tilda Jane did not know what a theatre was, and discreetly held her
+peace.
+
+"I say--here we are!" exclaimed the boy. "I hope mamma will have a
+good supper."
+
+A shadow overspread 'Tilda Jane's face, and seeing it, the boy said,
+impulsively, "Stop here a minute--I want to speak to papa," and he
+rushed away.
+
+The little girl sat still. They were going more slowly now, and all
+the men in the car were standing up, putting on coats and warm caps.
+She had no wrap, but her dress was thick, and hugging Gippie closer,
+she felt that she should not suffer from the cold.
+
+The boy was making an animated appeal to his father, who was asking
+him short, quick questions. At last he gave him a brief, "Very well!"
+and the boy ran back to 'Tilda Jane.
+
+"Papa says you can ride with us. I told him you had no one to meet
+you, and it would be cold comfort wandering about alone to find your
+way. He used to think a lot of Dillson, but you'd better not talk to
+him."
+
+'Tilda Jane trailed slowly after her guide through the crowd of
+people leaving the train, and passing through the lighted stone
+station to the yard outside. Here were drawn up a number of sleighs.
+The boy led her to the handsomest one.
+
+"Jump up on the box with Jenks," he said in a whisper. "Curl down
+under the rug, and I'll bring dog number two. He'll run behind, won't
+he?"
+
+"I guess so," replied 'Tilda Jane, with an equally mysterious
+whisper, and she slipped down under the soft bearskin robe.
+
+In two minutes the boy came back, leading Poacher by a small rope.
+"I'll just tie him behind," he said, "to make sure. He's all
+right--and here's papa."
+
+He stood aside, while his dignified parent got into the sleigh.
+'Tilda Jane, from her high seat, looked around once. The lumber
+merchant and his son were down in a black valley of soft, smothering
+furs, Poacher was running agreeably behind, and Gippie was snug and
+warm in her lap.
+
+No one spoke during the drive, and they glided swiftly through the
+snowy town. 'Tilda Jane had a confused vision of lighted shops
+with frosty windows, of houses with more sober illuminations, then
+suddenly they were stealing along the brink of a long and narrow
+snow-filled hollow. This was the Ciscasset River, still held by its
+winter covering. She thought she heard a murmur of "rotten ice"
+behind her as the lumber merchant addressed his son, and she was
+enough a child of the State to know that a reference to the breaking
+up of the ice in the river was intended.
+
+Presently they dashed up a long avenue of leafless, hardwood trees to
+a big house on the hill. A hall door was thrown open, and within was
+a glimpse of paradise for the homeless orphan. Softly tinted lights
+in the background illuminated and made angelically beautiful the
+white dresses and glowing faces of a lady and three little girls who
+stood on the threshold with outstretched arms.
+
+The father and son welcomed to these embraces had forgotten 'Tilda
+Jane, and as the sleigh slowly turned and went down the cold avenue,
+tears streamed silently down her cheeks.
+
+"Where am I to take you?" suddenly asked the solemn coachman beside
+her.
+
+"To Hobart Dillson's," she said, in a choking voice.
+
+Nothing more was said, she saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing
+of her immediate surroundings. She had once been taken to a circus,
+and the picture now before her mind was that of a tiger pacing back
+and forth in his cage, growling in a low monotonous tone, always
+growling, growling at a miserable child shrinking outside.
+
+"That there is Dillson's cottage, I think," said the coachman at last.
+
+'Tilda Jane roused herself. Through her blurred vision a small house
+wavered at the end of a snowy path. She wiped her eyes hastily,
+thanked the man, and, slipping from her high seat, ran behind the
+sleigh and untied Poacher.
+
+The man turned his sleigh and glided slowly out of sight. She stood
+watching him till he disappeared, then, followed by her two dogs went
+reluctantly up the path.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE FRENCH FAMILY.
+
+
+'Tilda Jane stood entranced. This was not the Dillson cottage, the
+coachman had made a mistake. She stood staring in the window, for
+this was a sight that pleased her above all other sights.
+
+Here was another family,--a happy family, evidently, all gathered
+around a cheerful fire in a good-sized living-room. There were an
+old grandfather in the corner smoking a pipe, an old woman beside
+him with a white cap on her head, a middle-aged man cleaning a gun
+by the light of a lamp on the table, a middle-aged woman knitting
+a stocking, and a cluster of children of all ages about the
+grandfather, grandmother, father and mother.
+
+Mingled with the crackling of the open fire was a very gay clatter of
+tongues speaking in some foreign language, and one boy's voice soared
+above the rest in the words of a song that 'Tilda Jane was afterward
+to learn:
+
+      "_Un Canadien errant_,
+      _Bannis de son pays_,
+      _Parconrait en pleurant_,
+      _Un pays étranger._"
+
+She gazed at them until the sense of increasing cold checked her
+rapture, and made her move regretfully toward the door and rap on it.
+
+It was immediately opened by a brown-eyed child, and held far back as
+if she were expected to enter.
+
+"Can you tell me where Mr. Hobart Dillson lives?"
+
+"_Ou-ay, ma'mzelle_," murmured the child, bashfully hanging her head.
+
+"But enter--it is cold," called the mother, rising and coming
+forward, stocking in hand.
+
+'Tilda Jane felt drawn toward this alluring family circle, and one
+minute later was sitting in a chair on its circumference.
+
+"But come in, dawgie," said the mother gently to Poacher, who stood
+hesitating on the threshold.
+
+He came in, and was greeted silently and politely by two respectable
+curs that rose from the hearth-stone for the purpose, then he lay
+down beside them, and gratefully extended his limbs to the fire.
+
+'Tilda Jane sat for a minute looking about her without speaking.
+These people were not staring at her, but they were all stealing
+occasional curious glances in her direction.
+
+"I'm lookin' for Hobart Dillson's," she said, bluntly, "but I guess
+there ain't no such person, for the nearer I get the more he seems to
+run off."
+
+The mother of the family smiled, and 'Tilda Jane gazed in admiration
+at the soft black eyes under the firm brows. "I can tell you,
+_mademoiselle_--he is near by, even nex' doah."
+
+"Oh!" murmured 'Tilda Jane, then she fell into meditation. These
+people were foreigners, poor, too, evidently, though perfectly neat
+and clean. She wondered how they got into the country.
+
+"You air emigrants?" she said, at last, inquiringly.
+
+"French," said the woman, "'Cajien French--sent from our country long
+ago. Our people went back. We returned to earn a little money. Too
+many people where we lived."
+
+"Did you come through Vanceboro?" asked 'Tilda Jane.
+
+The woman's liquid eyes appealed to her husband. He shrugged his
+shoulders, looked down the barrel of his gun, and said, "It is a long
+time ago we come. I do not know."
+
+"Mebbe they weren't so partickler," observed 'Tilda Jane.
+
+"Let um do!" came in a sepulchral voice from the fireplace.
+
+'Tilda Jane stared at the old grandfather, who had taken his pipe
+from his mouth to utter the phrase, and was now putting it back.
+
+The house-mother addressed her. "Do not fear, _mademoiselle_; it
+is the only English he knows. He means 'all right, do not anxious
+yourself, be calm, very calm.'"
+
+"Does he?" murmured 'Tilda Jane; then she added, unwillingly, "I must
+be going."
+
+"Delay youself yet a leetle," urged the woman, and her pitying eyes
+ran over the girl's drooping figure. "The children go to make corn
+hot. Marie--" and a stream of foreign syllables trickled and gurgled
+from her lips, delighting and fascinating her caller.
+
+A little maid danced from the fireplace to one of the tiny
+pigeon-hole rooms opening from the large one, and presently came back
+with a bag of corn and a popper.
+
+"And a glass of milk for _mademoiselle_," said the woman to another
+child.
+
+'Tilda Jane was presently sipping her milk, eating a piece of dark
+brown bread, and gazing dreamily at the fire. Why could she not
+linger in this pleasant home.
+
+"You know Mr. Dillson?" she said, rousing herself with an effort, and
+turning to her hostess.
+
+"But yes--we have lived nex' him for so many yeahs."
+
+"Do you think I can keep house for him?" asked 'Tilda Jane, wistfully.
+
+[Illustration: "'YOU ARE YOUNG FOR THAT, _MADEMOISELLE_, YET--'"]
+
+The woman hesitated, laid her knitting on her lap, and thoughtfully
+smoothed her tweed dress. "You are young for that, _mademoiselle_,
+yet--" and she scrutinised 'Tilda Jane's dark, composed, almost
+severe face--"if a girl could do it, I should think yes--you can. He
+is seeck, poor man. He walks not well at all. It makes him--"
+
+"Like the evil one," muttered her husband, clutching his gun more
+tightly; "if he was a crow, I would shoot."
+
+"Let um do!" came in guttural tones from grandfather's corner.
+
+The woman laughed merrily, and all anxiety faded from her face. "Hark
+to _gran'père_--it makes me feel good, so good. No one can make us
+feel bad if we feel not bad ourselves. Deelson is seeck. He is not
+hap-py. Let us not be seeck, too. Let us be hap-py. _Allons mes
+enfants, est-ce que le_--" and then followed more smooth syllables
+that 'Tilda Jane did not understand.
+
+She soon saw, however, that an order had been given to butter and
+salt the corn, and presently she was shyly but sweetly offered some
+by the French children. Even Poacher and Gippie had some kernels laid
+before them, and in the midst of her concern as to Mr. Dillson's
+behaviour, her heart swelled with gratitude to think that she should
+have such good neighbours. Here all was gentleness and peace. She
+had never seen so kind a woman, such amiable children. Did they ever
+quarrel and slap each other, she wondered.
+
+"It's getting late, ain't it?" she exclaimed at last, with
+uneasiness. "I must go," and she rose quickly.
+
+"But you can stay all night if you desiah," said the woman, motioning
+toward the pigeon-holes. "Stay, and go nex' doah in the morning."
+
+"No, no, I must not," said 'Tilda Jane very hastily, through fear
+that she might yield to so pleasant a temptation. "But can I drop in
+an' see you by spells?"
+
+"But yes, yes--certainly, come often," said the woman. "Come at any
+hour," she said under her breath, and seizing 'Tilda Jane's hand in
+her own, "if it is not agreeable there, at any time run here."
+
+"I'm 'bliged to you," said Tilda Jane, gratefully, "much 'bliged, an'
+if you want any floors scrubbed, or anythin' done, jus' you run over
+an' get me. I'll come--" and with a sturdy nod of her head, she took
+her dogs, and slipped out into the darkness.
+
+"If agreeable leave your dogs here till mornin'," called the woman
+after her.
+
+The little girl shook her head. "I guess he'd better see 'em right
+off. Good-night, an' thank you."
+
+The woman clasped her hands, and, looking up at the sky before she
+went into the house, murmured in her own language, "Holy One, guard
+her from that terrible rage!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE TIGER IN HIS LAIR.
+
+
+The next house to that of the French people was larger and more
+pretentious than theirs. It had more of a garden, there were two
+stories instead of one, and the roof was surmounted by a tiny tower.
+
+The outside of the tiger's den was highly satisfactory, and 'Tilda
+Jane smiled in weary stoical humour. Now to find the particular
+corner in which the tiger himself abode. The house was dark, except
+for one feeble glimmer of light on the ground floor. She had rapped
+at the front door, she had rapped at the back door without getting
+any response, and now she returned to the latter to see if perchance
+it had been left unfastened.
+
+It had, and lifting the latch cautiously, she went in. She knew Mr.
+Dillson was an old man, she knew he was lame, and possibly he heard
+her, but could not come to her rescue. Passing through a small porch
+where she stumbled against some heaped up pans, she turned the first
+door-knob she touched in passing her hand around the dark wall.
+
+She found herself in a kitchen. The table in the middle of the floor,
+the chairs, the dresser, were all illumined by a feeble, dying glow
+in a small cooking stove, and by the beams of a candle struggling
+through an open door.
+
+Poacher and Gippie crept after her as she proceeded slowly in
+the direction of this light. They felt that there was something
+mysterious afoot.
+
+'Tilda Jane paused at the bedroom door. Here was the lair of the
+tiger, and there was the tiger himself,--an old man with white hair,
+red eyes, and a night-cap. A candle was on a shelf by the head of the
+bed, and a pair of crutches was within reaching distance, and the old
+man was lifting his head from the pillow in astonishment.
+
+'Tilda Jane could not help laughing aloud in her relief. This was not
+a very dangerous looking person. He seemed more amazed than vexed,
+and she laughed again as she noted his clutch of the bed-clothes, and
+the queer poise of his white head.
+
+"'Scuse me, sir," she said, humbly, "for comin' this time o' night,
+but I thought you'd like me to report first thing. I hope you've
+heard from your son I was comin'?"
+
+The old man said nothing. He was still open-mouthed and dumb, but
+something in his face assured 'Tilda Jane that he had heard--he had
+received some news of her, apart from the telegram sent by Mr. Jack.
+
+"I've had lots o' speriences," she said, with a tired gesture. "I'll
+tell 'em some other time. I jus' wanted to 'nounce my 'rival, an'
+tell you I'm goin' to wait on you good--I guess I'll go to bed, if
+you'll tell me where to get a candle, an' where I'm to sleep."
+
+He would tell her nothing. He simply lay and glared at her, and by no
+means disposed to seek a quarrel with him, she made her way back to
+the kitchen, opened the stove door, and, lighting a piece of paper,
+searched the room until she found the closet where the candles were
+kept.
+
+The old man lay motionless in his bed. He heard her searching, heard
+the dogs pattering after her, and a violent perspiration broke
+out upon him. Wrath sometimes gave him unwonted fluency of speech.
+To-night it rendered him speechless. He did not wish this beggar's
+brat to wait on him. Hank had not asked his permission to send
+her--had simply announced that she was coming. He was treated as
+if he were a baby--an idiot, and this was his own house. Hank had
+nothing to do with it. He didn't care if Hank did pay her. He had
+money enough of his own to hire a housekeeper. But he didn't want
+one. He wanted to wait on himself. He hated to have women cluttering
+round, and he lay, and perspired, and inwardly raged, and obtained
+not one wink of sleep, while 'Tilda Jane, having obtained what she
+wished, peacefully composed herself to rest.
+
+First though, she calmly bade him "Good-night," told him to "holler,"
+if he wanted anything, and, calling her dogs, went off in search of a
+bed for herself.
+
+Beyond the kitchen was a front hall,--cold, dusty, and comfortless.
+Up-stairs were four rooms, two unfurnished, one having something the
+appearance of a spare room left long unoccupied, the other smelling
+of tobacco, exceedingly untidy, littered with old clothes, fishing
+rods, bats, cartridge shells, and other boyish and manly belongings.
+This must be Hank's room, probably it had been occupied later than
+the other, and the bed would not be so damp. She would sleep here,
+and she turned down the clothes.
+
+"Good land!" she murmured, "I wonder how long sence those blankets
+has been washed?" and she turned them back again, and, going to the
+other room, obtained two coverlets that she spread over herself,
+after she lay down on the outside of the bed.
+
+The dogs had already curled themselves up on a heap of clothes on the
+floor, and in a few minutes the three worn-out travellers were fast
+asleep.
+
+When 'Tilda Jane lifted her head from her very shady pillow the next
+morning, her ears were saluted by the gentle patter of rain. The
+atmosphere was milder--a thaw had set in.
+
+She sprang up, and went to the dogs, who were still snoring in their
+corner. "Wake up," she said, touching them with her foot. Gippie
+started, but something in the expression of Poacher's eloquent eyes
+told her that, although he had been apparently sound asleep, he knew
+perfectly well what was going on about him.
+
+"Let's go and see Mr. Dillson," she exclaimed, and picking up Gippie,
+she ran down-stairs with Poacher at her heels.
+
+"It ain't cold--it's just pleasant," she muttered, turning the key
+with difficulty in the front door, and throwing it open.
+
+"Oh, my, how pretty!" and she clasped her hands in delight. Across
+the road was the deep hollow of the river. She was in one of a line
+of cottages following its bank, and across the river were fields and
+hills, now a soft, hazy picture in the rain. But the sun would shine,
+fine days would come--what an ideal place for a home! and her heart
+swelled with thankfulness, and she forgot the cross old man in the
+room behind her.
+
+The cross old man would have given the world to have turned her out
+of his house at that very minute, but his night of sleeplessness and
+raging temper had given him a fierce headache, a bad taste in his
+mouth, and such a helplessness of limbs that he could not turn in bed.
+
+'Tilda Jane fortunately did not know that if he could have commanded
+his tongue he would have ordered her into the street, but she saw
+that there was something wrong with him, and as she stood in his
+doorway, she said, pityingly, "I guess you're sick; I'll make you
+some breakfast," and she vanished in the direction of the wood-shed.
+
+He heard her chopping sticks, he heard the brisk snapping of the fire
+and the singing of the teakettle. He heard her breaking eggs--two
+eggs when he never cooked more than one at a time! He opened his
+mouth to protest, but only gave utterance to a low roar that brought
+Poacher, who happened to be the only one in the kitchen, into his
+room to stare gravely and curiously at him.
+
+She made an omelet, she toasted bread, she steeped him a cup of
+tea--this slip of a girl. She had evidently been taught to cook, but
+he hated her none the less as she brought in a tray and set it beside
+his bed.
+
+He would not touch the food, and he gave her a look from his angry
+eyes that sent her speedily from the room, and made her close the
+door behind her.
+
+"I guess he'd like to gimme a crack with them crutches," she
+reflected, soberly, "I'd better keep out of his way till he's over
+it. Reminds me o' the matron's little spells."
+
+If she had been a petted darling from some loving home, she would
+have fled from the cottage in dismay. As it was, although she
+suffered, it was not with the keenness of despair. All her life she
+had been on the defensive. Some one had always found fault with her,
+some one was always ready to punish her. Unstinted kindness would
+have melted her, but anger always increased her natural obstinacy.
+She had been sent here to take care of this old man, and she was
+going to do it. She was too unconventional, and too ignorant, to
+reflect that her protective attitude would have been better changed
+for a suppliant one in entering the old man's domain.
+
+However, if she had meekly begged the privilege of taking care of
+him, he would have sent her away, and as she was given neither
+to hair-splitting nor introspection, but rather to the practical
+concerns of life, she calmly proceeded with her task of tidying the
+house without reference to future possibilities.
+
+The kitchen was the first place to be attacked, and she carefully
+examined the stove. It smoked a little. It needed cleaning, and
+girding on some old aprons she found in the porch, she let the fire
+go out, and then brushed, and rubbed, and poked at the stove until
+it was almost as clean outside as it was inside. Her next proceeding
+was to take everything off the walls, and wipe them down with a
+cloth-bedraped broom. Then she moved all the dishes off the dresser,
+washed the chairs, and scrubbed the floor.
+
+Then, and not until then, did she reopen the door into the old man's
+room. Now he could see what a clean kitchen she had, and how merrily
+the fire was burning in the stove. It was also twelve o'clock, and
+she must look about for something more to eat.
+
+Mr. Dillson had not touched his breakfast, so she ate it herself,
+made him fresh toast, a cup of tea, and a tiny meat hash, then went
+up-stairs to tidy her bedroom.
+
+The hash was well-seasoned, and the odour of onions greeted the old
+man's nostrils tantalisingly. He was really hungry now. His wrath had
+burned down for lack of fuel, and some power had come back to his
+limbs. He ate his dinner, got out of bed, dressed himself, and limped
+out to the kitchen.
+
+When he had dropped in his big rocking-chair, he gazed around the
+room. The girl had done more in one morning than all the women he had
+ever employed had done in three. Perhaps it would be economy to keep
+her. He was certainly growing more feeble, and a tear of self-pity
+stood in his eye.
+
+There she was now, coming from the French-woman's house. She had been
+over there to borrow sheets, and a flash of impotent rage swept over
+him. He tried to have no dealings with those foreigners. He hated
+them, and they hated him. This girl must go, he could not stand her.
+
+The back of his rocking-chair was padded, and before he realised what
+was happening, his state of fuming passed into one of sleepiness,--he
+was off, soundly and unmistakably announcing in plain terms, through
+throat and nose, to the world of the kitchen, that he was making up
+for time lost last night.
+
+When he opened his eyes, it was late afternoon, and 'Tilda Jane,
+sitting at a safe distance from him, was knitting an unfinished sock
+of his, left by his dead wife some ten years ago.
+
+He blinked at her in non-committal silence. She gave him one shrewd
+glance, with her toe pushed Gippie's recumbent body nearer her own
+chair, and went on with her work. If he wanted to hear her talk, he
+could ask questions.
+
+The afternoon wore away and evening came. When it grew quite dark
+'Tilda Jane got up, lighted a lamp, put on the teakettle, and with
+the slender materials at hand prepared a meal that she set before the
+uncommunicative old man.
+
+He ate it, rolling his eyes around the clean kitchen meanwhile, but
+not saying a word.
+
+'Tilda Jane kept at a safe distance from him until he had finished
+and had limped into bed. She then approached the table and ate a few
+morsels herself, muttering as she did so, "I ain't hungry, but I
+mus' eat enough to help me square up to that poor ole crossy."
+
+She was, however, too tired to enjoy her supper, and soon leaving it,
+she washed her dishes and went up-stairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE TIGER MAKES A SPRING.
+
+
+The situation would have been absurd if it had not been painful. The
+next morning the old man was still in the same mood, angry at the
+girl's invasion of his premises, and yet so appreciative of the value
+of her energetic ways that he did not insist on her departure. And so
+day after day, for a whole week, 'Tilda Jane lived on, keeping house
+for the old man, but saying not one word to him.
+
+He would not speak to her, and she would not begin a conversation
+with him. She prepared his meals from food that the storekeeper and
+butcher readily gave her on the old man's account, and exercised her
+tongue by talking to her dogs.
+
+Occasionally she called on her French neighbours, the Melançons, and
+from them gleaned various items of information about the eccentric
+Mr. Dillson, without, however, allowing them to know that he would
+not speak to her. This secret she proudly kept to herself. She found
+out from them that the old man was ordinarily in better health than
+at present,--that he was usually able to hobble about the house and
+wait on himself, for his temper had of late become so violent that no
+woman in Ciscasset would enter his house to work for him. Therefore,
+'Tilda Jane's arrival had been most opportune, for he would have been
+in danger of starving to death if left to himself.
+
+Feeling persuaded of this, and greatly pleased to think that she had
+been and was of service to the father of her benefactor Hank, her
+attitude toward the old man continued to be one of philosophical
+and good-natured obstinacy. She would not speak to him, but she was
+willing to wait on him in silence, looking forward to the time when
+he would find his tongue.
+
+Her only fear of his sullenness was on behalf of her dogs. He hated
+them--she knew it by the menacing tremble of his crutches whenever
+the animals came within his reach. Therefore, her constant endeavour
+was to keep them out of his way. She had made two soft, persuasive
+beds in the wood-shed for them; but it was cold there, and she could
+not stay with them. They loved her with all the strength of their
+doggish hearts, and wished to be with her every minute of the time.
+
+Often at night she would start up in bed from troubled dreams of
+a fierce old figure mounting the staircase, crutch in hand. There
+was no lock on her bedroom door, and if the old man had a sudden
+accession of strength, he could easily push aside the barrier of a
+wash-stand and two chairs that she put across this door before she
+went to bed.
+
+She wished that Hank would come home. He might persuade his peculiar
+parent to end this unnatural silence, and give her a chance to become
+acquainted with him.
+
+"Mebbe he'll soon come, Poacher," she whispered in the ear of the dog
+who was sitting close beside her. "We'll make up our minds for that,
+won't we?"
+
+The dog was sitting up very straight beside her, and gazing
+benevolently down at Gippie, who lay on her lap. They were all out
+on the front door-step, and 'Tilda Jane was knitting industriously.
+It was a day like May in the month of March--there was a soft, mild
+air and a warm sun that made dripping eaves and melting snow-banks.
+Little streams of water were running from the garden to the road, and
+from the road to the hollow of the river, where large cakes of ice
+were slowly loosening themselves, breaking up and floating toward the
+sea. Spring was coming, and 'Tilda Jane, despite the incorrigible
+sulkiness of the person with whom she was living, felt it good to
+have a home.
+
+"We'll have lots o' sport by an' by runnin' in the fields, Poacher,"
+she whispered, lovingly, in his ear, "you ole comfort--always so
+sweet, an' good, an' never sassing back. You jus' creep away when you
+see some one comin' and don't say a word, do you? You're a sample to
+me; I wish I was like you. An' you never want to be bad, do you, an'
+chase back to the woods?"
+
+The dog abandoned his stately attitude, and gave his tongue a quick
+fillip in the direction of her forehead. No--thanks to her intense
+devotion to him, he had no time for mournful reflections on the past.
+
+"But I guess you'd like to see your master sometimes," she murmured.
+"I see a hankerin' in your eyes now an' agin, ole feller, an' then I
+jus' talk to you hard. You darlin'!" and throwing her arm around his
+neck, she squeezed him heartily.
+
+He was boldly reciprocating, by licking her little, straight,
+determined nose, when there was a clicking sound around the corner of
+the house.
+
+'Tilda Jane released him and raised her head. The old man was
+approaching, leaning heavily on his crutches. The beauty of the day
+had penetrated and animated even his ancient bones. 'Tilda Jane
+was delighted to see him moving about, but, giving no sign of her
+satisfaction, she rose and prepared to enter the house. He did not
+approve of having the front door unlocked, he did not approve of her
+habit of dodging out-of-doors whenever she had no work to do inside.
+She felt this, although he had never said it, and pushing Gippie into
+the hall, she stepped down the walk to pick up her ball of yarn.
+
+The dog's enemy was some distance away, and seeing him leaning so
+heavily on his crutches, it did not occur to her that there could be
+any fear of danger. However, with all her acuteness, she did not
+measure the depth of his animosity, nor the agility with which it
+could inspire him.
+
+With a deftness and lightness that would have been admirable if it
+had not been cruel, the old man bore all his weight on one crutch,
+swung the other around in the air, and with the heavy end struck a
+swift, sure blow on Poacher's glossy black forehead.
+
+It was all done in the twinkling of an eye--in the short space of
+time that the little girl's back was turned. She heard the crashing
+blow, flashed around, and saw the black body of the dog extended on
+a white snow-bank. His eyes were open, his expression was still the
+loving one with which he had been regarding her as she stooped to
+pick up the ball.
+
+For an instant 'Tilda Jane felt no emotion but wonder. She stood
+stock-still, staring alternately at the old man and at the motionless
+body of the dog. It had occurred to her that he would kill one of
+her pets if he had a chance, but now that he had done it, the thing
+seemed unreal, almost absurd. Surely she was dreaming--that was not
+Poacher lying there dead.
+
+She went up to the dog, touched him with soft, amazed fingers, lifted
+the velvet ears, and put her hands on his forehead. There was the
+slightest ruffling of the smooth skin where the crutch had struck him.
+
+The old man stood and watched her for a few seconds, his face a
+trifle redder than usual, but giving no other sign of emotion. He
+watched her until she lifted her head and looked at him, then he
+turned hastily and limped to the back door.
+
+It was an awful look to see on the face of a child,--an avenging,
+unforgiving, hateful look,--the look of a grown person in cold,
+profound wrath. He did not regret killing the dog, he would like to
+dispose of the other one, but he did object to those murderous eyes.
+She was capable of killing him. He must get rid of her, and make his
+peace with some of the Ciscasset witches, in order that they might
+come and wait on him.
+
+He went thoughtfully into the house and sat down in his usual corner
+beyond the kitchen stove. He wondered whether she would give him
+any supper. He could get it himself to-night if she did not. He was
+certainly better, and a glow of pleasure made his blood feel warm in
+his veins.
+
+Stay--there she was, coming slowly in--he thanked his lucky stars,
+looking very much the same as usual. He would not be slain in his
+bed that night. And she was getting fresh wood for the fire. Perhaps
+she would make hot cakes for supper. She was wonderfully smart for a
+girl. He had several times speculated as to her age. Sometimes when
+talking to the dogs she seemed no more than eleven or twelve years
+old. Ordinarily she appeared to him about fifteen, but small for
+the age. To-day in her wrath, she might be taken for seventeen. How
+subdued she seemed as she moved about the kitchen. He had done a good
+thing to strike down one of those animals. She would not have such an
+independent air now.
+
+She built up the fire, set the teakettle on the back of the stove--he
+wondered why she did not put it on the front, and why she gradually
+piled on sticks of wood until there was a roaring blaze that caused
+him some slight uneasiness. Was she going to set the chimney on fire?
+
+No, she was not; when there was a bed of fiery red coals, she took
+up her tiny padded holder, lifted off one of the stove covers, then,
+to his surprise, went into the corner behind him, where he kept his
+crutches.
+
+What was she going to do? and he uneasily turned his head.
+
+She had both his crutches in her hand--his polished wooden crutches
+with the gold plate inscription. Years ago, when he resigned his
+position as bookkeeper at Waysmith and Son's big mill, a gold-headed
+cane had been presented to him, on which was engraved a flattering
+inscription. Nothing that had ever been given to him in his life had
+tickled his vanity as this present from the rich and prosperous firm
+had done.
+
+When he had been obliged to put away the cane on account of his
+increasing bodily infirmities, he had had the gold plate inscription
+transferred to his crutches where he could see it all the time,
+and have others see it. Now--what was she going to do with those
+crutches?
+
+[Illustration: "HE LIFTED UP HIS VOICE AND ROARED AT HER."]
+
+He opened his mouth, and for the first time addressed her. "Put those
+crutches down."
+
+She paid less attention to him than she did to the crackling of the
+fire. Walking behind his chair, and making a wide circle to avoid his
+outstretched arms, she went to the other side of the stove and--
+
+He lifted up his voice and roared at her. She was sticking the legs
+of his crutches down in that fiery furnace.
+
+He roared again, but she did not even raise her head. She was holding
+the crutches down, stuffing them in, burning them off inch by
+inch--very quietly, very deliberately, but very surely. She was not
+thinking of him, she was thinking of the dead dog out on the snow.
+
+He kept quiet for a few seconds, then he began to bellow for mercy.
+She was burning up to the cross-bar handles, she would soon reach
+that gold-plate inscription, and now for the first time he knew what
+those eulogistic words were to him--he, a man who had had the temper
+of a maniac that had cut him off from the sympathy of every human
+being he knew.
+
+Tears ran down his cheeks--in incoherent words he stammered an
+apology for killing her dog, and then she relented.
+
+Throwing the charred and smoking tops to him, she shut up the stove,
+took her hat and tippet from a peg in the wall, and clasping Gippie
+to her, left the house without one glance at the old man as he sat in
+the smoky atmosphere mumbling to himself, and fumbling over the burnt
+pieces of wood as tenderly as if they had been babies.
+
+She had conquered him, but without caring for her conquest she left
+him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+IN SEARCH OF A PERFECT MAN.
+
+
+Ciscasset, perhaps most beautiful of Maine towns near the Canadian
+border, was particularly beautiful on the morning after 'Tilda Jane's
+departure from Hobart Dillson's cottage. The sun was still shining
+fervently--so fervently that men threw open their top-coats or
+carried them on their arms; the sky was still of the delicate pink
+and blue haze of the day before, the wind was a breath of spring
+blown at departing winter.
+
+It was still early, and beautiful Ciscasset was not yet really astir.
+Few women were to be seen on the streets,--only a score of shop-girls
+hurrying to their work,--but men abounded. Clerks were going to their
+desks and counters, and early rising business men to their offices.
+Market-men swarmed in from the country in order to be the first to
+sell their produce in the prosperous little town with the Indian
+name.
+
+Other towns and villages might direct their search across the sea
+for European titles for streets and homes. Ciscasset prided itself
+on being American and original. The Indian names were native to the
+State, and with scarcely an exception prevailed in the nomenclature
+of the town. Therefore the--in other places Main Street--was here
+Kennebago Street, and down this street a group of farmers was
+slowly proceeding. They had sold their farm produce to grocers and
+stable-keepers, and were now going to the post-office for their mail.
+
+Assembled a few moments later in a corner of the gray stone building,
+and diligently reading letters and papers, they did not see a small
+figure approaching, and only looked up when a grave voice inquired,
+"Air you too busy to speak to me a minute?"
+
+The men all stared at the young girl with the dog in her arms, the
+heavy circles around her eyes, and the two red spots on her cheeks.
+
+"What do you want?" asked the oldest farmer, a gray-haired man in a
+rabbit-skin cap.
+
+"I want to find the best minister in this place."
+
+A smile went around the circle of farmers. They were all amused,
+except the gray-haired one. He was nearest to 'Tilda Jane, and felt
+the intense gravity of her manner.
+
+"In the town, I mean," she went on, wearily. "I want to ask him
+something. I thought they'd know in the post-office, but when I asked
+behind them boxes," and she nodded toward the wall near them, "they
+told me to get out--they was busy."
+
+The old farmer was silent for a moment. Then he said, gruffly, "You
+look beat out, young girl, like as if you'd been out all night."
+
+"I was," she said, simply, "I've been pacin' the streets waitin' for
+the mornin'."
+
+The attitude of the younger men was half reproachful, half disturbed.
+They always brought with them to the town an uneasy consciousness
+that they might in some way be fooled, and 'Tilda Jane's air was
+very precocious, very citified, compared with their air of rustic
+coltishness. They did not dream that she was country-bred like
+themselves.
+
+The older man was thinking. He was nearer the red spots and the
+grieving eyes than the others. The child was in trouble.
+
+"Bill," he said, slowly, "what's the name o' that man that holds
+forth in Molunkus Street Church?"
+
+His son informed him that he did not know.
+
+"How d'ye do, Mr. Price," said the farmer, leaving the young farmers,
+and sauntering across to the other side of the post-office, where
+a brisk-looking man was ripping open letters. "Can you give us the
+name of the preacher that wags his tongue in the church on Molunkus
+Street?"
+
+"Burness," said Mr. Price, raising his head, and letting his snapping
+eyes run beyond the farmer to the flock of young men huddling
+together like gray sheep.
+
+"Would you call him the best man in Ciscasset?" pursued the farmer,
+with a wave of his hand toward 'Tilda Jane.
+
+Mr. Price's snapping eyes had already taken her in. "What do you mean
+by best?" he asked, coolly.
+
+"I mean a man as always does what is right," said 'Tilda Jane, when
+the question was left for her to answer.
+
+"Don't go to Burness, then," said Mr. Price, rapidly. "Good
+preacher--poor practiser."
+
+"Ain't there any good practisers in Ciscasset?" asked the farmer,
+dryly.
+
+"Well--I know some pretty fair ones," responded Mr. Price. "I don't
+know of one perfect person in the length and breadth of the town. But
+I know two people, though, who come near enough to perfection for
+your job, I guess," and his brilliant glance rested on 'Tilda Jane.
+
+"Who be they?" asked the farmer, curiously.
+
+"Is it this young girl that wants 'em?" asked Mr. Price.
+
+"Yes, sir," said the farmer, "it is."
+
+"Then I'll tell her," said his quicksilver friend, and he flashed to
+'Tilda Jane's side. "Go up Wallastook Street to Allaguash Street. Ask
+for Reverend Mr. Tracy's house. Any one'll tell you--understand?"
+
+"Yes, sir--thank you; and thank _you_, too," and with a grateful
+gesture toward the farmer, she was gone.
+
+The farmer gazed after her. "I hate to see a young one in trouble.
+Someone's been imposin' on her."
+
+Mr. Price felt sympathetic, but he said nothing.
+
+"Who'd you send her to?" inquired the farmer. "I'd give a barrel of
+apples to know."
+
+"To me?" inquired Mr. Price, smartly.
+
+The farmer laughed. "Yes, sir--I'd do it. You've put me in the way of
+business before now."
+
+"I sent her to a man," replied Mr. Price, "who might be in Boston
+to-day if he wanted to. He gave up a big church to come here. He's
+always inveighing against luxury and selfishness and the other crowd
+of vices. He and his wife have stacks of money, but they give it
+away, and never do the peacock act. They're about as good as they
+make 'em. It isn't their talking I care about--not one rap. It's the
+carrying out of their talk, and not going back on it."
+
+"My daughter wants to go out as hired help. I guess that would be
+an A number one place, if they'd have her," observed the father,
+meditatively. "Good enough," said Mr. Price, "if you want her to
+ruin her earthly prospects, and better her heavenly ones," and he
+went away laughing.
+
+The farmer stepped to the post-office door. 'Tilda Jane was toiling
+up the sidewalk with downcast head. The shop windows had no
+attractions for her, nor was she throwing a single glance at the line
+of vehicles now passing along the street; and muttering, "Poor young
+one!" the farmer returned to his correspondence.
+
+The Reverend Mr. Tracy was having his breakfast in the big yellow
+house set up on terraces, which were green in summer and white in
+winter. The house was large, because it was meant to shelter other
+people beside the Tracys and their children, but there was not a
+stick of "genteel" furniture in it, the new housemaid from Portland
+was just disdainfully observing to the cook.
+
+"You'll get over that soon," remarked the cook, with a laugh and a
+toss of her head, "and will be for givin' away what we've got an'
+sittin' on the floor. There's the door-bell. You'd better go answer
+it; it's time the beggars was arrivin'."
+
+Mr. Tracy was late with his breakfast this morning, because he had
+been out half the night before with a drunken young man who had
+showed an unconquerable aversion to returning home. Now as he ate his
+chop and drank his hot milk, fed a parrot by his side, and talked to
+his wife, who kept moving about the room, he thought of this young
+man, until he caught the sound of voices in the hall.
+
+"Bessie," he said, quietly, "there's your new maid turning some one
+away."
+
+His wife stepped into the hall. The housemaid was indeed assuring a
+poor-looking child that the master of the house was at breakfast and
+could not see any one.
+
+"Then I'll wait," Mrs. Tracy heard in a dogged young voice. The front
+door closed as she hurried forward, but she quickly opened it. There
+on the top step sat a small girl holding a dog.
+
+"Good morning," she said, kindly; "do you want something?"
+
+"I want to see the Reverend Tracy," responded the little girl, and
+the clergyman's wife, used to sorrowful faces, felt her heart ache as
+this most sorrowful one was upturned to her.
+
+"Come in," she went on, and 'Tilda Jane found herself speedily
+walking through a wide but bare hall to a sunny dining-room. She
+paused on the threshold. That small, dark man must be the minister.
+He was no nearer beauty than she was, but he had a good face,
+and--let her rejoice for this--he was fond of animals, for on the
+hearth lay a cat and a dog asleep side by side, in the long windows
+hung canaries in cages, and on a luxuriant and beautiful rose-bush,
+growing in a big pot drawn up to the table, sat a green and very
+self-possessed parrot. She was not screeching, she was not tearing at
+the leaves, she sat meekly and thankfully receiving from time to time
+such morsels as her master chose to hand her.
+
+The little, dark, quiet man barely turned as she entered, but his one
+quick glance told him more than hours of conversation from 'Tilda
+Jane would have revealed. He did not get up, he did not shake hands
+with her, he merely nodded and uttered a brief "Good-morning."
+
+"Won't you sit here?" said Mrs. Tracy, bustling to the fireplace, and
+disturbing the cat and the dog in order to draw up a chair.
+
+"I think our young caller will have some breakfast with me," said the
+minister, without raising his eyes, and stretching out his hand he
+pushed a chair beyond the rose-bush, and by a gesture invited 'Tilda
+Jane to sit in it.
+
+She seated herself, crowded Gippie on her lap under the table, and
+mechanically put to her mouth the cup of steaming milk that seemed
+to glide to her hand. She was nearly fainting. A few minutes more,
+and she would have fallen to the floor. The minister did not speak
+to her. He went calmly on with his breakfast, and a warning finger
+uplifted kept his wife from making remarks. He talked a good deal to
+the parrot, and occasionally to himself, and not until 'Tilda Jane
+had finished the milk and eaten some bread and butter did any one
+address her.
+
+Then the minister spoke to the bird. "Say good morning to the little
+girl, Lulu."
+
+"Good morning," remarked the parrot, in a voice of grating amiability.
+
+"Say 'It's a pretty world,' Lulu," continued her owner.
+
+"It's a pretty world, darlin'," responded the parrot, bursting into
+hoarse, unmusical laughter at her own addition. "Oh, it's a pretty
+world--a pretty world!"
+
+To the gentleman and his wife there was something cynical and
+afflicting in the bird's comment on mundane affairs, and they
+surreptitiously examined their visitor. Did she feel this?
+
+She did--poor girl, she had been passing through some bitter
+experience. There was the haunting, injured look of wounded childhood
+on her face, and her curled lip showed that she, too, young as she
+was, had found that all was not good in the world, all was not
+beautiful.
+
+The parrot was singing now:
+
+      "'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam,
+      Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
+      Home, home, sweet, s-we-e-e-t ho-o-o-me,"
+
+but at this point she overbalanced herself. Her uplifted claw swung
+over and she fell backward among the rose-branches.
+
+The bird's rueful expression as she fell, her ridiculous one as she
+gathered herself up, and with a surprised "Oh, dear!" climbed back to
+her perch, were so overcoming that the minister and his wife burst
+into hearty laughter.
+
+'Tilda Jane did not join them. She looked interested, and a very
+faint crease of amusement came in a little fold about her lips, but
+at once faded away.
+
+The minister got up and went to the fire, and taking out his watch
+earnestly consulted its face, then addressed his wife.
+
+"I have a ministers' meeting in half an hour. Can you go down-town
+with me?"
+
+"Yes, dear," replied Mrs. Tracy, and she glanced expectantly toward
+'Tilda Jane.
+
+The little girl started. "Can I ask you a question or so afore you
+go?" she asked, hurriedly.
+
+"No, my dear," said the man, with a fatherly air. "Not until I come
+back."
+
+"I guess some one's told you about me," remarked 'Tilda Jane,
+bitterly.
+
+"I never heard of you, or saw you before a quarter of an hour ago,"
+he replied, kindly. "Do you see that sofa?" and he drew aside a
+curtain. "You lie down there and rest, and in two hours we shall
+return. Come, Bessie--" and with his wife he left the room.
+
+'Tilda Jane was confounded, and her first idea was of capture. She
+was trapped at last, and would be sent back to the asylum--then a
+wave of different feeling swept over her. She would trust those two
+people anywhere, and they liked her. She could tell it by their looks
+and actions. She sighed heavily, almost staggered to the sofa, and
+throwing herself down, was in two minutes sleeping the sleep of utter
+exhaustion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+SWEET AND SOFT REPENTANCE.
+
+
+She was awakened by a hoarse whisper in her ear: "Get up and go on,
+get up and go on. Don't croak, don't croak!"
+
+Her eyelids felt as heavy as lead, it seemed as if she would rather
+die than stir her sluggish limbs, yet she moved slightly as the rough
+whisper went on, "Get up and go on, get up and go on. Don't croak,
+don't croak!"
+
+It was the parrot with the cold in her throat, and she was perched on
+the sofa cushion by her head. 'Tilda Jane raised herself on one hand.
+How weary, how unspeakably weary she was! If she could only lie down
+again--and what was the matter with her? Why had she waked with that
+terrible feeling of unhappiness?
+
+She remembered now--Poacher was gone. She had not shed a tear over
+him before, but now she hid her face in her hands, and indulged in
+low and heart-broken lamentation. Poor Poacher--dear, handsome dog!
+She would never see him again. What would the Lucases say if they
+knew of his untimely end? What should she do without him? and she
+cried miserably, until the sound of voices in the next room recalled
+her to herself.
+
+She was in the minister's house, and she must get her business
+over with, and be gone. So choking back her emotion, she wiped her
+face, smoothed her dress, and, followed by Gippie, stepped into the
+dining-room.
+
+The minister was seated by the fire reading to his wife. He got up
+when he saw 'Tilda Jane, gave her a chair, then went on with his
+book. After some time he laid it down. His caller was composed now,
+and something told him that she was ready to consult him.
+
+He smiled a beautiful, gentle smile at her, and thus encouraged, she
+swallowed the lump in her throat and began:
+
+"I'm 'bliged to you, sir, for lettin' me sleep an' givin' me some
+breakfus, an' can I tell you somethin' 'bout myself? I'm all kind o'
+scatter-wise."
+
+"And you wish some one to straighten you out?" he asked, benevolently.
+
+"Yes, sir--an' I thought the best person would be a minister--they
+said you was the best here."
+
+Mrs. Tracy smiled in a gratified fashion, while 'Tilda Jane went
+earnestly on, "I'm all mixy-maxy, an' I feel as if I hadn't started
+right. I guess I'll tell you jus' where I come from--I s'pose you
+know the Middle Marsden Orphan 'Sylum?"
+
+The minister told her that he had heard of it. He did not tell her
+that he had heard it was one of the few badly managed institutions
+for orphans in the State, that the children were kept strictly, fed
+poorly, and were rapidly "institutionalised" while under the care of
+uneducated, ignorant women, who were only partially supervised by a
+vacillating board of lady managers.
+
+"Well, I was riz there," continued 'Tilda Jane, "rizzed mostly in
+trouble, but still I was riz, an' the ladies paid for me, an' I
+didn't take that into 'count when I run away."
+
+"So you ran away," he said, encouragingly.
+
+"Yes, sir, 'count o' this dog, I said," and she pointed to Gippie,
+"but I guess inside o' me, 'twas as much for myself. I didn't like
+the 'sylum, I wanted to run away, even when there was no talk o' the
+dog, an' I'll tell you what happened," and while the minister and his
+wife courteously listened, she gave a full and entire account of her
+wanderings during the time that she had been absent from the asylum.
+She told them of Hank Dillson, of her sojourn at Vanceboro, and her
+experience with the Lucases, and finally her story brought her down
+to the events of the day before.
+
+"When that ole man keeled over my dog," she said, brokenly, "that
+dog as had saved my life, I wanted murder. I wished something would
+strike him dead. But he didn't fall dead, an' then I thought it was
+time for me to chip in an' do somethin'. I took them crutches as he
+can't move without, an' I burnt 'em most up--all but a little bit at
+the top with the gold writin', 'cause he sits an' gazes at it, an' I
+guess sets store by it."
+
+"You burnt Hobart Dillson's crutches!" exclaimed Mrs. Tracy, in
+surprise.
+
+"Yes, ma'am--'cause he'd killed my dog."
+
+"I wonder he had not struck you down," said the lady, with a shudder.
+"He is said to be a man with a very violent temper."
+
+'Tilda Jane sprang up, her face as white as a sheet. "I mos' forgot.
+I s'pose he's sittin' there this minute. He can't move without 'em,
+an' nobody'll go near him. Now, sir,"--and she turned in desperate
+haste to the little, dark, silent man,--"tell me quick what I ought
+to do."
+
+"You are a child with a conscience," he said, gravely; "you have been
+turning the matter over in your own mind. What conclusion have you
+reached?"
+
+"Go on," said the parrot, hoarsely, and between intervals of climbing
+by means of bill and claw to the top of a chair, "go on, and don't
+croak. Don't cr-r-r-r-oak!"
+
+[Illustration: "'I'VE LED ANOTHER DOG ASTRAY, AN' NOW HE'S DEAD!'"]
+
+'Tilda Jane turned her solemn face toward the bird. "Walkin' to an'
+fro las' night, a verse o' Scripter kep' comin' to me, 'Children,
+obey your parents in the Lord--' Now, I ain't got any parents, but
+I had lady-boards. I oughtn't to 'a' run away. I ought to have give
+up the dog, an' trusted. I ought to 'a' begged them to get me a home.
+I ought to 'a' been a better girl. Then I might 'a' been 'dopted.
+Ever sence I've run away, there's been trouble--trouble, trouble,
+nothin' but trouble. I've led another dog astray, an' now he's dead!"
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Tracy exchanged a pitying glance. The child was
+intensely in earnest. Her black eyes were bent absently on the parrot
+who had fallen prey to an immense curiosity with regard to Gippie,
+and having surveyed him from the back of the chair and the mantel,
+and finding him harmless, was now walking cautiously around him as
+he lay on the hearth-rug. Presently, emboldened by his silence, she
+took the end of his tail in her beak. He did not move, and she gently
+pinched it.
+
+There was a squeal, a rush, and a discomfited parrot minus three tail
+feathers flying to her master's shoulder.
+
+"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, "my, my! What a fuss--what a fuss!"
+
+Very little attention was paid her. Her master and mistress
+were taken up with the youthful owner of the dog, but Mr. Tracy
+mechanically stroked the bird as he put another question to 'Tilda
+Jane.
+
+"And what do you propose to do?"
+
+"I think I ought to go back," she said, earnestly. "I ought to say
+I'm sorry. I ought to say I'll do better."
+
+"Go back--where?" asked Mrs. Tracy, eagerly.
+
+"First to the ole man. I ought to be civil to him. I ought to talk,
+an' not be mum like an oyster. I ought to ask him if he wants me to
+go 'way. I ought to write the lady-boards an' tell 'em where I be. I
+ought to say I'll go back."
+
+"Do you wish to go back?" asked Mr. Tracy.
+
+A shiver passed over 'Tilda Jane's slight frame, but she spoke up
+bravely. "I ain't a-goin' to think o' that, sir. I've got to do
+what's right."
+
+"And what about your dog?"
+
+"Oh, Gippie ain't in it at all," she said, with animation. "He don't
+need to go. I guess I'll find some nice home for him with somebody
+as likes animiles," and a shrewd and melancholy smile hovered about
+her tense lips as she gazed at her host and hostess.
+
+"Poor little girl," said Mrs. Tracy, sympathetically; "we will take
+your dog and you, too. You shall not go back--you shall live with us."
+
+As she spoke, her big blue eyes filled with tears, and she laid a
+caressing hand on 'Tilda Jane's shoulder.
+
+"Please don't do that, ma'am," said the little girl, vehemently, and
+slipping her shoulder from under the embracing hand. "Please don't do
+anything homey to me. Treat me as if I was a real orphan."
+
+"A real orphan," repeated Mrs. Tracy, in slight bewilderment.
+
+"Oh, I want a home," cried the little girl, clenching her hands, and
+raising her face to the ceiling. "I want some one to talk to me as
+if I had blue eyes and curly hair. I want a little rocking-chair an'
+a fire. I don't want to mind bells, an' run with a crowd o' orphans,
+but it ain't the will o' Providence. I've got to give up," and her
+hands sank to her sides, and her head fell on her breast.
+
+Mrs. Tracy bit her lip, and pressed her hands together.
+
+"Will you stay to dinner with us, my dear?" said Mr. Tracy,
+softly. "I will take you into my study where there is a fire and a
+rocking-chair, and you shall see some curiosities that I picked up in
+Palestine."
+
+"Oh, no, sir, I must go," and she again became animated. "That ole
+man--I mus' see him. Tell me, sir, jus' what I am to do. I've been
+doin' all the talkin', an' I wanted to hear you. I guess I'm crazy,"
+and she pressed her hands nervously over her ears.
+
+She was in a strange state of nervous exaltation that was the natural
+reaction from her terrible dejection of the evening before. She had
+decided to make a martyr of herself--a willing martyr, and Mr. Tracy
+would not detain her.
+
+"Go back to Mr. Dillson's, my dear; you have mapped out your own
+course. I do not need to advise you. Your conscience has spoken, and
+you are listening to its voice. Go, and God bless you. You shall
+hear from us."
+
+'Tilda Jane was about to rush away, but Mrs. Tracy detained her.
+"Wait an instant. I have something for you," and she hurried from the
+room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+WAITING.
+
+
+Mr. Dillson had not passed a pleasant night. In the first place
+he had not been able to move for a long time after 'Tilda Jane's
+departure. For half an hour he had sat, hoping that she would return,
+or that some one would call on some errand. Without his crutches he
+was helpless.
+
+Strange to say, he was not in a rage with her. Indeed, he had never
+felt more kindly disposed toward her, and he certainly had never so
+longed for a sight of her little thin, ungraceful figure. Just at the
+moment of the burning of the crutches he could have felled her to the
+earth, but after it was an accomplished fact his lack of resentment
+was a marvel even to himself. Possibly it was because she had saved
+the gold plate. Possibly--as minute after minute went by--it was
+because a peculiar fear drove all vengeance from his mind.
+
+He had not liked the look in her eyes when she went out. Suppose she
+should make way with herself? Suppose she should jump into a hole in
+the ice, or throw herself in front of a locomotive, or do any other
+of the foolish things that desperate and maddened people were in the
+habit of doing? What would then be his position? Not an enviable one,
+by any means. He was partly--not wholly, for he had some shreds of
+vanity left--aware of his neighbours' opinion respecting himself.
+There was an ugly word they might connect with his name--and he
+glowered over the fire, and felt sufficiently uncomfortable until a
+strange and marvellous thing happened.
+
+The kitchen was in an ell of the house, and, by hitching his chair
+around, he could command a view from the side window of a slice of
+the garden in front, and also of a narrow strip of the road before
+the house. He would watch this strip, and if a passer-by appeared,
+would hail him or her, and beg to have a new pair of crutches ordered
+from the town.
+
+It was while he was sitting in the gathering gloom watching this bit
+of highway, that the marvellous thing happened. Just by the corner
+of the house was a black patch on the snow,--the hind legs and tail
+of the poor deceased Poacher. The fore part of the body was beyond
+his vision. Dillson had no particular dislike for the spectacle. A
+dead dog was a more pleasant sight than a living one to him, and he
+was just wondering whom he would get to remove the animal, when he
+imagined that he saw the tail move.
+
+No, it was only his imperfect vision, and he rubbed his eyes and
+moistened his glasses. Now the tail was no longer there--the hind
+legs were no longer there. Had some one come up the front walk and
+drawn the creature away?
+
+He pressed his face close against the window-pane. No--there was the
+dog himself on his feet and walking about--first in a staggering
+fashion, then more correctly.
+
+The old man eagerly raised the window. If the girl lived, and was
+going about saying that he had killed her dog, here was proof
+positive that he had not; and smacking his lips, and making a
+clicking sound with his tongue, he tried to attract the resuscitated
+Poacher's attention. He must capture the animal and keep him.
+
+It was years since he had called a dog--not since he was a young man
+and had gone hunting on the marshes below the town.
+
+"Here, dog, dog!" he said, impatiently; "good dog!"
+
+Poacher gravely advanced to the window and stood below him.
+
+"Good dog," repeated the old man. "Hi--jump in," and he held the
+window higher.
+
+The dog would not jump while the enemy was there. He would not have
+jumped at all, if he had been at the back door, for he would have
+smelled his mistress's tracks and gone after her. Now he suspected
+that she was in the house.
+
+Though every movement gave him agony, the old man hobbled away from
+the window. The dog sprang in, and Dillson clapped the sash down. He
+had the animal now.
+
+Poacher was running around the room, sniffing vigorously. He stood on
+his hind legs and smelled at the peg where the hat and tippet had
+hung. Then he ran to the wood-shed door.
+
+With a most unusual exertion of strength, the old man rose, pushed
+the chair before him, and breathing hard, and resting heavily on
+it, opened the cellar door. He would shut the dog down there out of
+sight, and where he could not run out if any one came in.
+
+"She's down there, dog," he said, and the boldness with which he told
+the story so impressed Poacher, that after one inquiring glance which
+convinced him that his enemy's attitude had changed from that of a
+murderous to a semi-friendly one, he dashed down the steps into the
+cold cellar.
+
+Dillson slammed the door, and chuckled. Now to get back to the
+window. He tried to hitch his chair along, but he was weak and must
+rest. He sat for a few minutes, and when the few minutes were over,
+he found that his muscles had stiffened. He could not move.
+
+He sat a little longer. The fire went out, and the room got cold. He
+was so far from the window that he doubted if any one could hear him
+if he shouted.
+
+He lifted up his voice to try. He was as hoarse as a crow. He had a
+cold, and it was every minute getting worse. If he had the dog from
+the cellar, he might tie something to him and frighten him so that
+he would go dashing through a window. He began to feel that if the
+little girl did not return, he might sit there till he died.
+
+His case was not desperate yet, however. He waited and waited. The
+night came and went, and another morning dawned, and the weather
+changed outside, until a stiff frost began to transform the thaw into
+a return of winter weather--and still he waited, but the little girl
+did not come.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE TIGER BECOMES A LAMB.
+
+
+Gippie was tired out, and in an execrable temper. He had had to trot
+home all the way from the Tracys, for his mistress was carrying a
+long bundle under one arm, and a good-sized basket on the other. And
+now that she was in sight of the house, she was fairly running, and
+he could scarcely keep up with her.
+
+Her head was turned far round, she was looking over her shoulder in
+the direction away from the front of the house, and yet she went
+right to the spot where the unfortunate Poacher had fallen.
+
+Gippie knew very well what all her emotion was about. Like some deaf
+and partly blind human beings, he was more aware of happenings than
+people supposed. Poacher was dead, and he was not sorry for it,
+for he had been desperately jealous of him, and limping up to his
+mistress he impatiently whined to claim recognition.
+
+"Oh, Gippie, what shall I do?" she moaned. "What shall I do? He was
+so good and gentle. I can't go in--I can't go in."
+
+She was on her knees on the snow. Her hands were wandering over the
+depression where Poacher had lain. Her face was so pale and unhappy,
+that even Gippie's selfish heart was touched, and standing on his
+hind legs to reach her shoulder, he tenderly licked her right ear
+inside and out, until she brushed him aside with a half laugh, half
+sob, and a murmured, "You tickle my ear, Gippie."
+
+She got up and moved slowly toward the back door, while the dog
+trotted along nimbly on his three legs after her. Why, what a
+vault! and Gippie shivered and turned his short-sighted eyes in the
+direction of the kitchen stove. It was black and cold, and the old
+man, sitting in the draughtiest corner of the room, right by the
+cellar door, was a dull, mottled purple. He did not speak when the
+door opened. He was morose and silent, and his whole appearance was
+that of a man in extreme distress.
+
+Gippie was an excellent hater, and it did him good to see the old man
+suffer. However, he did not care to suffer with him, and squealing
+dismally, he planted himself near the delinquent stove.
+
+'Tilda Jane's listlessness and painful depression were gone. With a
+quick exclamation, she had dropped her basket and bundle, and had
+sprung to the kindling box.
+
+There was nothing in it. She rushed to the wood-shed, came back with
+a handful of sticks and paper, and by dint of extra quick movements
+had, in an astonishingly short space of time, a good fire roaring up
+the chimney.
+
+Then she turned to the old man, who was still sitting in stony
+silence. "I'm 'fraid you're most froze, sir. Can't you come nigher
+the fire?"
+
+Dillson's eyelids were swollen with the cold, but there was still
+room for a disagreeable twinkle to glimmer through. He would say
+nothing, however, and 'Tilda Jane, approaching the long, peculiar
+looking bundle, opened it, took out a pair of crutches, and handed
+them to him with a humble, supplicating air.
+
+Gippie crawled farther under the stove, and, lowering his head,
+awaited developments.
+
+But there was no danger of a blow from the old man. His hands were
+so benumbed that he could not hold the crutches. They slipped to the
+floor with a crash, and, opening his purple lips, he ejaculated the
+word, "Tea!"
+
+"Ain't you had nothin' sence I left?" inquired 'Tilda Jane, sharply.
+
+Dillson shook his head.
+
+"You ain't been sittin' there all night?"
+
+He nodded his head this time.
+
+'Tilda Jane's face took on an expression of dismay, and she flew
+around the kitchen.
+
+The warm atmosphere was now enwrapping the old man in a most
+agreeable manner, and when 'Tilda Jane handed him the big cup, he
+grunted something between an expression of thanks and a desire that
+she should hold it to his lips.
+
+While he greedily drank the hot liquid, 'Tilda Jane, with a queer
+choking in her throat, addressed broken remarks to him. "I didn't
+know, sir--I was hopin' some one would come in--I was mos' crazy
+'bout the dog--I forgot all 'bout you till jus' now."
+
+"More," he said, shortly, when 'Tilda Jane put the cup down.
+
+She refilled it, then, as his hands began to get supple and he could
+manipulate it himself, she uncovered the basket Mrs. Tracy had given
+her.
+
+"I didn't look in before," she exclaimed. "Oh, the beauty eggs!" and
+she carefully unrolled a napkin, "an' the white rolls, an' Washington
+cake, an' a meat pie, an' a tart--I say, grampa, we'll have a good
+dinner!"
+
+The old man looked strangely at her, but she went on unheedingly:
+"They're jus' boss people. I'm glad I went an' talked to 'em--I'm
+sorry I was so ugly to you, grampa, an' if you don't want me, I guess
+I'd better go 'way."
+
+She spoke quite humbly and naturally, and, as she did so, she raised
+her head and glanced in Dillson's direction.
+
+He made no response, and she went on: "I've been a very bad little
+girl, but I'm goin' to be better, an' you jus' tell me what you want
+me to do, grampa, an' I'll do it, an' if you don't want to talk, you
+jus' write it. I know you're a big man, an' mebbe you don't want to
+talk to a little girl like me, but I'll not lay it up agin you. You
+jus' do what you want, an' I'm not tryin' to come round you, 'cause I
+'spect you'll send me off quicker'n a flash so soon as you get some
+one else."
+
+Her lips were trembling, and her face was bright and expectant, but
+the old man gave her no satisfaction.
+
+"Hand me some of that pie," he said, unexpectedly.
+
+"Can you wait till I set the table an' make it look real pretty,
+grampa?" she said, coaxingly.
+
+Dillson was nearly starved, and, without a word, held out his hand in
+a commanding fashion.
+
+"All right, grampa," she said, gently, and she handed him a generous
+slice; "anythin' you like. This is your house. It ain't mine."
+
+Dillson ate his pie, watching her meanwhile out of a corner of his
+eye.
+
+"Bread and meat," he said when he had finished.
+
+'Tilda Jane supplied this want, and earnestly watched these viands
+going the way of the pie.
+
+"More tea," he said, when they were gone.
+
+When he had eaten and drunk to an alarming extent, he pointed to the
+crutches. "Where did you get them?"
+
+"I saw 'em in a window, grampa,--a great big druggist's window,--an'
+I went in an' said to the man, 'Can you trust me for 'em? I'll pay
+you, sure pop, if you'll gimme time. I'm goin' to be a good girl now,
+an' never tell no more lies nor steal, nor do anythin' bad,' but he
+jus' said ever so grumpy, 'This is a cast down, no credit system
+store,' but I wasn't cas' down, an' I said, 'S'pose you was a lame
+man, an' a bad little girl burnt up your crutches, how would you
+feel? 'Then he looked kind o' solemn, an' said, 'Whose crutches was
+burnt up?' An' I said, 'Mr. Hobart Dillson's crutches,' an' he said,
+'What girl burnt 'em?' I said, 'A little girl that don't know where
+to look.' Then he asked what you said when I burnt your crutches, an'
+I said you didn't say much, you jus' cussed. Then he turned his face
+round to the bottles, an' when he looked out it was red, an' he was
+shakin' all over like as if he's been cryin', an' he jus' pointed to
+the crutches an' said, 'Take 'em, an' welcome.'"
+
+Dillson's head dropped on his breast. This girl had evidently gone to
+Peter Jerret's store,--Peter Jerret who had owed him a grudge ever
+since the day he went in and denounced him before a store full of
+customers for overcharging him for prescriptions. Peter had actually
+dared to pity him--Hobart Dillson, and so had let the girl have the
+crutches, not caring whether he ever got paid or not. Well, he hadn't
+thought Peter would ever pity him, and, drawing his crutches toward
+him, Dillson cautiously lifted himself, and tried his weight upon
+them.
+
+Yes, he could walk, he would go to bed, and think over Peter's
+conduct. It affected him, but he must not look soft. "Open my door,"
+he said to 'Tilda Jane.
+
+While she flew to obey his command, the old man heard a low whine
+near him, and remembered Poacher. The dog had recognised the girl's
+voice, and would soon make himself known. He might as well have
+the credit of his discovery. If she had come home sulky he would
+have allowed her to find the dog for herself, but she was meek and
+biddable, and she had also secretly pleased him by addressing him as
+"grampa," in tones of such respect and affection. She had improved
+decidedly, and he exclaimed, peremptorily, "Here, you!"
+
+'Tilda Jane ran out from the bedroom, where she was turning down the
+icy sheets in the bed so that the chill might be taken from them.
+
+"Open this door," ordered the old man.
+
+With a wondering air 'Tilda Jane threw back the cellar door. Then she
+gave a joyful scream.
+
+There, standing on the top step, cold and shivering, half famished,
+but alive and well, was her beloved Poacher.
+
+She tried to catch him around the neck, but he flew past her into the
+kitchen, came back like a shot, and, dashing up her back, licked her
+neck, sprang into the air, and again racing round and round the room,
+brought on what she herself would call a "combobberation."
+
+The old man was so near, that Poacher, in his wild gyrations to and
+fro, swept one of his crutches from him. 'Tilda Jane, even in the
+midst of her astonished and ecstatic glee, perceived this, and
+stooped down to recover the lost article, but she could not lay her
+hand on it, for the excited dog, with his head in the air and his
+tongue hanging out, made repeated dashes at her, beside her, behind
+her,--he was everywhere that she was. And Gippie was after him, for,
+snorting with rage and mortification at the resuscitation of his
+rival, he had bounded from under the stove, and, with his maimed
+tail wagging excitedly in the air, was biting, snapping, growling
+at Poacher's heels, nipping him fiercely, if by chance he paused a
+second to rest.
+
+The noise and confusion were overcoming, and the old man, holding
+firmly to his remaining crutch, and grasping the back of a chair,
+grimly surveyed the scene. Finally 'Tilda Jane secured the crutch,
+and, pantingly brushing back her dishevelled hair, she passed it to
+him across the dogs' backs.
+
+Poacher had now sunk on the floor at her feet, while Gippie was
+exerting his feeble strength in trying to crowd him away from 'Tilda
+Jane's stout shoes.
+
+"Forgive us, grampa, dear grampa," she said, beseechingly; "but it's
+such a joyful 'casion--such a 'casion. My heart never felt so big in
+my life. It's all swolled up. Oh, ain't you sweet to prepare this
+s'prise for me. When I come back jus' now I thought my pet was buried
+in the cold ground--oh, I jus' love you!" and, climbing over the
+quarrelling dogs, she seized the bunch of knuckles nearest her, and
+kissed them fervently.
+
+The old man slowly uncurled his fist and looked at it. How many years
+was it since any one had kissed him?
+
+He put the crutch under his arm, and turned toward the bedroom.
+
+"Good night, grampa, dear grampa," floated sweetly after him. The
+girl was down on the floor with her dogs, her arm was around the
+hound's black neck, the three-legged atrocity was pressed to her
+side. She was happy, yes, happy--"as happy as a fool," he grumbled to
+himself. Nothing to annoy her, nothing to trouble her. Wait till she
+got older, and life's worries began to crowd around her, and with an
+impatient groan the old man flung himself down on the chair by his
+bed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+A TROUBLED MIND.
+
+
+'Tilda Jane and grampa were sitting out in front of the house. The
+spring months had passed, the apple-trees had blossomed, and the
+young apples had formed. With the changing season had come happier
+days for 'Tilda Jane. Little by little, as the weeks slipped by, a
+better understanding had arisen between her and "grampa."
+
+He still gave way occasionally to terrible fits of temper and
+sullenness, but 'Tilda Jane understood him better now, and was quick
+to soothe and pacify him, or, if he was unmanageable, to keep out of
+his presence until he recovered.
+
+Just now he was in an unusually amiable frame of mind,--a frame
+of mind so accommodating that it boded storms in the near future.
+However, 'Tilda Jane did not care. She accepted the present peace and
+was thankful.
+
+She had dragged out his big rocking-chair for him to sit on, and had
+given him an evening paper to read, while she herself was curled up
+on her favourite seat on the door-step.
+
+The old man was not inclined to read his paper, and dropping it on
+his knees he took off his glasses, put them in his pocket, and let
+his eyes wander to the apple-trees.
+
+The river was flowing blue and open now, birds were singing, and all
+things betokened a fine summer.
+
+"When you hear those robins sing, don't it feel as if there was a
+little string squeakin' inside o' you?" said 'Tilda Jane, gleefully.
+
+Dillson made no reply, and seeing that he was in no mood for a
+sympathetic comparison of emotions, she diplomatically started
+another topic of conversation.
+
+"I guess the birds make me glad, 'cause I'm so happy you let me bide
+with you, grampa--an' you've been so noble an' generous to lend me
+money to pay for the matron's shawl I took for Gippie. An' it was so
+kind in the lady-boards to write back that they was glad to get rid
+of me."
+
+[Illustration: "'THEY WAS GLAD TO GET RID OF ME.'"]
+
+The old man laughed a toothless laugh at her whimsical view of the
+lady-boards' reply, but said nothing.
+
+"I ain't told you much of my travels yet, grampa," she said,
+agreeably. "I've been so busy house-cleanin'. I guess you'd like to
+hear about Vanceboro."
+
+The old man did not display any particular interest in Vanceboro, but
+having assured herself by a swift examination of his features that
+the subject was not disagreeable to him, she went on, "It's a great
+ole place. I'd like you to go there sometime, grampa. Such goings-on
+with them furriners! I saw one woman walkin' up and down wringin' her
+hands an' cryin' 'cause they wouldn't let her bring her ole mother
+into this nation."
+
+She waited for her hearer to ask why the mother was forbidden to
+come where the daughter could enter, but he did not do so, and she
+continued, "She was a poor woman from Boston, an' her mother was a
+poor woman from Canada, an' they said if she come in 'twould be two
+poor women together, an' first thing they knowed they'd be both in
+the poorhouse. So her mother had to go back to Canada."
+
+Dillson looked entirely uninterested in the case of the would-be
+immigrant, so, after a farewell announcement that sometimes as many
+as two hundred "furriners" went through Vanceboro in a single day,
+'Tilda Jane passed on to another branch of her subject.
+
+"It's a reg'lar jubilee, grampa, when the trains come in--a boy
+runnin' to a big bell an' ringin' it, an' people pourin' into the
+lunch-room, an' jus' chasin' the food into their mouths an' lookin'
+hunted-like, as if there was somethin' after them, an' some don't
+take time to go to the tables. They step up to the lunch-counter,
+which is shaped jus' like a moon when it ain't full. There's glass
+dishes on it, with oranges, an' bananas, an' cakes an' pies, an'
+sangwiches, an' a funny machine where you drop a nickel in a
+crack, an' if the hand points to five, or ten or fifteen, you get
+twenty-five cents' worth of candy, an' if you don't get candy you get
+good advice like as, 'You've been keepin' bad comp'ny, quit it or you
+will never prosper,' or 'You've run away from home, an' the perlice
+is on your track,' or 'Smokin is a bad thing for your health.'"
+
+Grampa was not very much interested, so 'Tilda Jane tried something
+more startling.
+
+"There's great talk of railroad accidents there. Men get killed
+awful. I heard a table-girl ask a brakeman how he could go on a
+train for fear he'd be hurt, an' he said he dassent stop to think,
+he had to take chances. I used to see 'em runnin' like cats on top
+o' them cars, slippery with snow an' ice. If you're inside one o'
+them cars, grampa, an' there's goin' to be a turnover, jus' grip hard
+on somethin' steady, 'cause then you're not so apt to get killed. I
+heard a conductor say that."
+
+Grampa's travelling days were over, yet it pleased him to be talked
+to as if he were still a strong and active man, and he said, shortly,
+"I'm not likely to be going far from home."
+
+"You don't know, grampa," she said, soothingly. "Some day when you
+get nice and well, I'd like to travel with you, but first you must be
+very quiet like one of Job's mice, an' not have anythin' gnawin' at
+you--I guess you've had lots of plague times in your life."
+
+Grampa looked unheedingly beyond her to the apple-trees.
+
+Her face was shrewd and puckered, and she was surveying him like a
+cunning little cat.
+
+"Sometimes, grampa, I hear you fussin' in your sleep--moanin' an'
+cryin' like a poor dog what's lost her pups."
+
+The old man turned and looked at her sharply.
+
+She went on boldly, "Can I lie in my soft, warm bed up-stairs an' you
+a-sufferin'? No, I creepy, creepy down, to see if I can do anythin'."
+
+"Don't you do that again," said the old man, his face becoming red.
+"You stay in your bed at night."
+
+"All right, grampa," she said, meekly, "but I've heard things
+already."
+
+"Things--what things?" he asked, sharply.
+
+'Tilda Jane folded together the apron she was hemming, and getting
+up, opened a door of retreat behind her into the house.
+
+"About losin' that money," she said, sadly. She paused, and as he
+neither spoke or made any motion to throw a crutch at her, she
+proceeded, "Grampa, I jus' know it's like a little pain hawk pickin'
+at your skin."
+
+Grampa was still silent, painfully so, and she hurried on, "You
+haven't got much money, an' you have me an' the dogs to take care
+of. Now, grampa, won't you let me get some work to do outside to
+help us?" and she screwed her features into their most persuasive
+appearance.
+
+Grampa had his head turned away over his shoulder, and when he after
+a long time twisted it around, 'Tilda Jane rose, and prudently and
+swiftly retired into the hall.
+
+He must be in a rage. His face was fiery, and he was making a
+choking, spluttering sound in his throat,--a sound that only came
+from him in moments of agitation.
+
+"Don't you--don't you," he stammered, "spy on me again, and bother
+your young head about things you know nothing of. Do you hear?" and
+he accentuated his remarks by a tap of his crutch on the door-step.
+"I've had a way all my life of talking over things in my sleep. And
+you've got enough to do at home. I'll not have you working for other
+people."
+
+"All right, grampa," said 'Tilda Jane, submissively, and she made
+a step toward him. She had planned to fly through the hall to his
+bedroom, and remove his wash bowl and pitcher, for since she had come
+to the cottage he had broken several in his fits of rage.
+
+But grampa was not angry in a violent way this time. "He's more
+bothered than mad," she murmured, dispiritedly, and she drew aside to
+allow him to pass by her into the house.
+
+"The dew's falling," he muttered, as he went by her. "I'll go sit in
+the kitchen a spell."
+
+'Tilda Jane went mournfully to sit under the trees on a wooden bench
+that grampa had had made for her. The two dogs curled themselves up
+at her feet, and with a sigh she picked up a writing pad beside her.
+It was almost too dark to see the lines, but she must finish a letter
+that she had begun to write to Hank.
+
+His former custom had been to scratch a line to his father once in
+six months to say he was alive and well, but since 'Tilda Jane's
+arrival he had written every week, and had addressed his letters to
+her.
+
+It was a great pleasure to the little girl to get these letters,
+and an equal pleasure to answer them. She related to him every
+occurrence of her daily life, all details of his father's conduct
+except disagreeable ones, and her letters always ended with an urgent
+request that he would come and visit them.
+
+This evening she had as usual made an appeal at the end of her
+letter. "Dear Mr. Hank, it seems a long time sence the snow was on
+the ground. I guess if you knew how much we want to see you you'd
+come hurryin' home. The dogs send love, Gippie specially 'cause he
+knows you. Poacher says he'd be happy to make your acquaintance--and,
+Mr. Hank, your father's kind of worried about somethin'. I guess he'd
+like to see you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+AN UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE.
+
+
+While 'Tilda Jane wrote, Poacher suddenly made a stealthy movement,
+and Gippie, deaf as he was, had enough of the dog spirit left in him
+to know that some one was coming, and to elevate the tiny V-shaped
+flaps over his ears.
+
+The gate clicked, there was a rustling along the ribbon-grass
+bordering the narrow path, and then 'Tilda Jane's writing-pad fell to
+the ground, and she sprang up with a delighted scream.
+
+For peering forward in the gathering gloom, she discovered Hank, the
+long-absent Hank, moving heavily and awkwardly up the path toward her.
+
+He had grown thin; his clothes hung loosely on him, and he was pale
+and worried in appearance, but 'Tilda Jane did not criticise him. He
+was the person who had most helped her in her search for a home, and,
+springing toward him, she caught his arm and ejaculated: "Oh, Hank!
+Mr. Hank--is it truly you I'm pinchin', or is it a ghost?"
+
+He smiled faintly, and, in return, pinched her cheek. "I ain't a
+ghost yet, though 'pon my word I didn't know but what I'd soon be
+one." As he spoke, he threw himself wearily on the seat. "Well,
+'Tilda, how does Ciscasset treat you? Coronation! You're getting
+fat," and he scanned her in satisfaction. "I wouldn't know you for
+the little runaway that held me up last March out at Marsden."
+
+"I guess I'm gettin' fat 'cause I'm peaceful in my mind," said 'Tilda
+Jane, demurely; "I don't have no one to fight. I'm jus' havin' the
+softest time!"
+
+"So father really treats you well?"
+
+"Of course--don't I write you? He's jus' as sweet as a peach. He lets
+me wash, an' scrub, an' cook, an' never says a word excep' not to
+work too hard, an' if he wants to be jus' a little bit cranky, jus' a
+teeny little bit, he goes in his room an' shuts the door till the bad
+spirit gets out of him."
+
+"Did he ever hurt you?"
+
+"No, he never struck me--he usen't to like the dogs."
+
+Hank had never been told of Poacher's adventure, but his attention
+wandered to the dog, and he absently stroked his head.
+
+"You've done the old man a lot of good," he said at last.
+
+"I--no, sir," said 'Tilda Jane, earnestly. "I guess it's the dogs.
+But he wants more good done to him. He's in a regular slouch of
+despond sometimes, Mr. Hank."
+
+"Is he?" said the young man, listlessly; "what's he desponding about?"
+
+"About money, Mr. Hank. He lost some in the street, and never got
+it back--then it costs something to keep me and the dogs. I feel
+dreadful about it. I try to eat jus' as little as possible, but I'm
+as hungry as a bear mos' all the time."
+
+Hank's attention was aroused. "You must not stent yourself, sissy.
+This is too bad. I'm to blame. I've been intending to send you some
+money, but I've had a run of bad luck."
+
+His face was so disturbed that 'Tilda Jane made haste to change the
+subject.
+
+"Oh, I'm so worked up to see you--I'm perfectly 'tossicated. I feel
+jus' like the teakettle afore it boils, an' that 'minds me--I mus' go
+set it on. You mus' be starvin'."
+
+"No, I ain't hungry; I haven't had an appetite for a week. How much
+did father lose?"
+
+"Sixty dollars," said the little girl, reluctantly.
+
+Hank relapsed into silence after this information. He was evidently
+not inclined to talk, but 'Tilda Jane was brimful of questions, and
+presently burst out with one of them.
+
+"Mr. Hank, what did you do with that beauty horse of yours?"
+
+"Had to sell it," he said, bitterly. "I've lost everything I had.
+Those farmers are all against me. Every potato top among them. I'm
+played out in this State. They'd like to jail me if they could."
+
+"Jail you," said 'Tilda Jane, resentfully, "I guess I'd come and
+pound at the door of the jail if they did."
+
+"You ought to pound," said Hank, in an ungrateful and ungallant
+tone, "'cause I ain't had a mite of luck since you crossed my path."
+
+'Tilda Jane fell into blank astonishment for the space of one minute,
+then she asked, wistfully, "Do you mean that--did I truly bring you
+bad luck?"
+
+"You truly did," he said, peevishly. "I'm all broken up in my
+business, cleaned out, done for."
+
+'Tilda Jane pushed the hair back from her forehead with a bewildered
+gesture. Her benefactor was in trouble--perhaps ruined, and through
+her. But this was no time for reflection, the urgency of the case
+demanded action.
+
+"Mr. Hank," she said, softly, "warn't it a roguey kind of a business,
+anyway?"
+
+"All business is roguey," he said, gruffly.
+
+"I guess you don't mean that," she said, mildly. "I know you don't
+mean that I've done you harm. I guess you're jus' in trouble like the
+river in the spring, when the ice goes mixy-maxy every way."
+
+He smiled slightly as he rose, and looked down into the shrewd little
+face, "Well, ta, ta, 'Tilda--be a good girl."
+
+"Where are you goin'?" she asked, helplessly.
+
+"Blest if I know--somewhere to earn a living, to Canada, maybe."
+
+"Don't you go through Vanceboro," she said, sharply, then she pressed
+her hands to her head. "I think I'm crazy--are you Hank Dillson,
+standin' there sayin' you're goin' to leave us like this?"
+
+"Don't take on, 'Tilda," he said, consolingly. "I'm real sorry. I
+wouldn't have come out of my way this much if I hadn't promised you,
+and if you hadn't been such a nice little girl. Of course you haven't
+hurt me. I guess you've done me good, for I've had a kind of disgust
+with my business ever since you set foot in my life."
+
+She paid no attention to the latter part of his speech. "You say
+you've got to go, an' I can't keep you," she murmured, stupidly, "an'
+you don't know where you're goin'."
+
+"I don't know, an' I don't want to know. I'll loaf along till my
+money gives out, then I'll go to work."
+
+"Hank, do you think of Orstralia?"
+
+"No, I ain't got dough enough to get that far."
+
+"Do you mean bread?"
+
+"No, I mean cash."
+
+"Why don't you stay here?"
+
+"Nothing to do that I know of. This is a one-horse place."
+
+"Hank, you ain't seen your father," she cried, catching at his coat
+sleeve, as he turned toward the gate.
+
+"'Pon my word, I forgot the old man. I believe I'll go in for sixty
+seconds. You say his health's better?"
+
+"Yes," said 'Tilda Jane, hurriedly, "I didn't write you that he had a
+fit not long sence, and it seemed to straighten him out. He goes to
+town on his crutches every day, an' Gippie limps after him--oh, Hank
+Dillson, Hank Dillson, I'm mos' loony about this business of your
+goin' away."
+
+Hank smiled wearily at her, and went slowly toward the house.
+
+"How long can you stay?" she asked, running after him. "How long will
+you give us?"
+
+He took out his watch, and held it close to his face. "I guess I'll
+take the eleven o'clock train. It's nine now--I thought I'd look up
+some of the boys."
+
+"Give us all the time," she said, pleadingly, "stay with your father
+an' me. Oh, promise, will you?"
+
+"All right," he said, obligingly. "I don't care if I do. I'm beat
+out, anyway."
+
+"I have to go some place, but I'll be back soon," she called after
+him, then she threw up both hands and pressed them over her ears,--a
+favourite gesture with her when she was doing hard thinking.
+
+"Mr. Waysmith or Mr. Tracy," she repeated, half aloud. "Mr. Waysmith
+or Mr. Tracy. Mr. Tracy," she said, at last, "he's most likely," and
+whirling on her heel, she flew down the path, out the gate, and into
+the street.
+
+Poacher, silent, graceful, and swift, kept close to her, but the
+battered Gippie soon gave up the chase with a howl of protest, and
+went limping home.
+
+Hank, to his surprise, had, on the whole, the most agreeable talk of
+his life with his father. The old man was altered. He had been, at
+the same time, the stiffest and the most demonstrative of parents,
+the young man reflected. There really was a remarkable change for the
+better in him, and yet, at the end of three-quarters of an hour, Hank
+got up to take his leave.
+
+They were nearly always absent from each other, they had got out of
+the way of taking an active interest in each other's concerns--there
+was not yet sufficiently firm footing and enough of it to bridge
+to the shaky background of the past, and parting would be a mutual
+relief.
+
+Yet the old man's eyes twinkled wistfully as they followed his son to
+the door. Hank had told him nothing of his troubles, yet his father
+saw that he had lost flesh, that he had not a prosperous air, and he
+acutely guessed that all was not going well with him. He would find
+out from the young girl, and with a sigh he settled back in his chair.
+
+"I'll try to come home soon again, father," said Hank, dispiritedly,
+as he looked over his shoulder before closing the bedroom door, and
+he was just shrugging his shoulders at the promise, when something
+dark and panting caught at him in the unlighted kitchen, and made him
+jump.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+A FRIEND IN NEED.
+
+
+It was 'Tilda Jane, breathing like a race-horse.
+
+"What's up with you, sissy?" he asked.
+
+She could not speak for a few seconds, then she gasped with
+difficulty, "Hank, dear old Hank, he's in there--the loveliest
+man--he's always ready to do a turn for any one--go in--tell him your
+business. I've said a little, mind what he tells you, an' you'll
+get on. He's helped lots of people. He was in the midst of a dinner
+party. He's so good--he jus' left it an' come. Go--" and she gave
+him a gentle push and sent him into the parlour, where he blinked
+his eyes alternately at the lamp on the table, and at a small, dark,
+quiet man who sat with his hat on his knee.
+
+The small man was breathing hard, as if he, too, had been walking
+fast, but on seeing Hank, he rose and stood with outstretched hand.
+
+"My name is Tracy," he said, kindly, "and I have come to this town
+since you left it, but I know your family."
+
+"I know you, too," said Hank, bluntly, "from her letters," and he
+jerked his head backward, but 'Tilda Jane, after softly closing the
+door, had disappeared.
+
+Mr. Tracy sat down again, and Hank sat opposite him. A slight and
+awkward pause ensued, broken speedily, however, by the minister.
+
+"Young man, you are in trouble."
+
+"Yes, I am that," said Hank, gruffly.
+
+"State your trouble," said the minister, kindly.
+
+Hank hesitated an instant, then his words came with a rush. "You've
+visited creameries, sir?"
+
+"I have."
+
+"Well, there's good creameries and bad creameries. A few years ago,
+when I was casting about in my mind for something to do, I got in
+with a Chicago firm known as the White Elephant firm--owing to
+so many States being spotted with their buildings, loaded on the
+farmers, and costing too much to keep up. Being a Maine man, they
+sent me to my own State. I was one of their most go-ahead sharks,
+now they've fired me to fix themselves right with the farmers. Do you
+know how they take in a community, sir?"
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+"Well, s'pose you're a shark. You navigate round among the farmers,
+and make a smother of big talk about hauling in buckets full of
+money. You get a committee to visit some creamery where the outfit
+is salted to make an extra showing. You pay the farmers' expenses,
+you offer 'em a block of stock, and up goes the creamery in their
+district with machinery from the promoting company, costing two or
+three times over what everything is worth. When the whole thing's up,
+it'll usually dawn on the minds of your stockholders that a creamery
+ain't much without cows, and their cows ain't got enough milk to pay
+for the fuel they burn. 'Way back here fifty miles, I had whipped up
+a creamery; I had a man to run the machinery, but he was a simpleton.
+He ruined the separator, it had to be sent back to the shop, an' I
+got mad with him.
+
+"Then he blabbed, told everything he knew, an' a lot he didn't,
+an' the farmers stopped counting their cows long enough to listen.
+Hasty words flew round, about fraudulent subscriptions, vitiated
+transactions, no contracts, ruined farms, going to law--an' I thought
+it was time to skip. The firm had made me stop there up to this, an'
+as soon as I ran, they bounced me--I'm all played out here, sir. My
+native State bids me farewell!"
+
+Hank suddenly ceased speaking, his head dropped on his breast, yet
+before it did so, he shot one appealing, hopeful glance at his
+listener. Despite his "don't-care" tone, and off-hand manner, it was
+plainly to be seen that he felt himself in trouble, and knew that
+there was one at hand who would help him.
+
+"You've been in a poor business," observed Mr. Tracy, quietly. "You
+want to quit it?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Hank, meekly.
+
+"Listen then--" and his companion in his turn began to speak rapidly.
+
+'Tilda Jane, flying about the house, sent many an anxious thought to
+the closed parlour. What was the minister saying to Hank? Would Hank
+talk to him freely?
+
+"O Lord! Lord! Lord!" she cried, suddenly stopping and raising her
+clasped hands to the ceiling, "do make his heart soft--soft as mush,
+an' don't let him be sassy. The minister is smooth an' nice, an' he
+would stand sass, but it's awful bad for Hank. He's got to sober
+down. O Lord, make him solemn--jus' like an owl!"
+
+She dashed a tear from the corner of her eye, and went on with her
+occupation of wrapping various articles in a red handkerchief.
+
+When the parlour door opened, she ran to the front hall, and as Mr.
+Tracy passed her, she caught his hand and pressed it fervently.
+
+He said nothing, but smiling with the more than earthly sweetness of
+one who truly loved his fellow men, he hurried back to his deserted
+guests.
+
+Hank followed close at his heels, and as he stood in the hall
+doorway, looking already straighter and taller, he smiled
+patronisingly down at 'Tilda Jane.
+
+"You're a mighty fine girl, sissy, how old are you now?"
+
+"Thirteen o'clock las' week--struck fourteen this--oh, what did the
+minister say?"
+
+Hank thumped his chest. "He's got me a situation, sissy,--a situation
+that means bread and butter for you and father, and maybe cake and
+jam."
+
+The little girl locked her hands in intense excitement. "Where, Hank,
+oh, where?"
+
+"Here, sissy."
+
+"In Ciscasset?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+'Tilda Jane suppressed a scream. "An' you can live at home?"
+
+"Well, I rather guess so."
+
+'Tilda Jane's pleasure was too deep for words. She stood gaping
+speechlessly at him.
+
+Hank, in high good humour, beamed benevolently on the orphan girl as
+she stood beside him. "What are you sticking your head up an down for
+like a chicken taking a drink?" he said at last.
+
+"Hank, I'm givin' thanks," she said, reverently, "givin' thanks that
+you've got led out of that roguey business."
+
+"I'll not get into anything of that kind again, sissy," he said,
+with a shamefaced air. "You may just be sure of that. I've had a
+great talk with that friend of yours--and sissy, I'm obliged to you."
+
+There was a queer break in his voice. An end had suddenly come to his
+troubles. He would now be in the way of earning an honest living. And
+it would be a pleasure to live with his father and this young girl
+who would look up to him and admire him.
+
+"Sissy," he said, abruptly, "where do you think my new berth is?"
+
+"I don't know--oh, tell me quick."
+
+"In the Waysmith lumber mill. Mr. Waysmith offered a place to your
+friend Tracy to-day for some young man, and I'm the young man."
+
+"With the Waysmiths?" murmured 'Tilda Jane, "where your father used
+to be?"
+
+"The same, sissy."
+
+'Tilda Jane could stand no more. "O Lord, I thank thee!" she cried,
+with a burst of tears, and running into the kitchen, she buried her
+face in the roller towel hanging on a door.
+
+Hank sauntered after her, and on his way stumbled over a bundle done
+up in a spotted red handkerchief. He stooped down, picked it up,
+and opened it. It contained a few lumps of sugar, a Bible, a pair
+of socks, two handkerchiefs, half a loaf of cake, and fifty cents
+wrapped in a piece of newspaper.
+
+"My travelling kit," he murmured; "well, if she ain't the best little
+creature!"
+
+"Hello, 'Tilda!" he called out; "stop that whimpering, and come and
+tell grampa the news."
+
+The little girl hastily dried her face on the towel, and ran into the
+bedroom where grampa sat surveying them in bewilderment from the edge
+of his bed. Some time ago he had come to his room with the intention
+of undressing. His son's visit had upset him, and he had been sitting
+confusedly listening to the scraps of conversation he caught from
+different parts of the house.
+
+"Grampa, grampa!" cried 'Tilda Jane, running in, and excitedly waving
+her hands, "Hank's goin' to live at home with you, an' me, an' the
+dogs. We'll be a real family. Oh, ain't it lovely, ain't it lovely?"
+and catching hold of her skirts she began a sidling and peculiar
+dance about the room.
+
+Hank laughed till the tears came into his eyes. 'Tilda Jane was good,
+but she was not graceful. Then his merriment over, he began to yawn,
+and 'Tilda Jane, as keen of observation as ever, immediately espied
+this sign of fatigue.
+
+She caught up Gippie, who alone showed no pleasure at the prospect of
+having another inmate of the house, and danced out to the kitchen.
+
+"Come out, grampa dear," she called, "we'll all have a good supper,
+'cause this is a most joyful 'casion."
+
+As grampa started to limp out to the kitchen, Hank quietly placed
+himself by his side.
+
+The old man looked at him. "I'm not sorry you're going to stay," he
+remarked, gruffly. "They say there's no place like home."
+
+"You'd better believe that's true, father," said Hank, warmly; "a
+fellow gets sick of hotels and boarding-houses. We'll have some more
+funds now that I'm going to get at some decent kind of work. You
+mustn't bother your head about expenses."
+
+The old man sank into his chair with a sigh of relief. His face was
+working strangely. Last year at this time he was alone and miserable
+in a cheerless house. Now his son was with him, a brisk young girl
+was flying about his kitchen, a bright fire burned in the stove, a
+fire that was not unpleasantly warm to his aged limbs even on this
+summer night. A white cloth covered his formerly bare and uninviting
+table; he was going to have pie, and coffee, and toast and cake for
+supper,--surely the coming of this orphan had been a fortunate thing
+for him, and he slowly chafed his hands as he gazed at the glowing
+bed of coals.
+
+Hank was following 'Tilda Jane from kitchen to pantry, and from
+pantry to kitchen.
+
+"You're getting to be a great housekeeper," he said, admiringly; "but
+we must not forget the schooling. It's a great thing to be educated.
+You can't hold your own in this world unless you know something. You
+wrote me Mrs. Tracy was teaching you some, didn't you?"
+
+'Tilda Jane paused as she filled a sugar-bowl.
+
+"Yes, three evenin's a week. She's a boss--I mean a good teacher. I
+learned some at the 'sylum,--no, the asylum, when I warn't--no, when
+I werent'--no, when I wasn't in the kitchen. And grampa talks to me
+some. He's a fine scholar."
+
+"That's good--get all you can; but three evenings a week ain't
+enough. As soon as I can compass it, I'll have some one to take care
+of father daytimes, and let you go to school."
+
+"To school!" said the little girl, "to learn more--to know how to
+speak proper! Oh, oh, I'm mos' too happy to live! Hank Dillson,
+I think you're the mos' beautiful man that was ever made!" and,
+dropping her sugar-bowl on the shelf, she seized a hand of the
+ex-creamery shark, and warmly pressed it between her little lean
+palms.
+
+Hank, in some embarrassment, murmured, "Oh, fudge, I'm not as good as
+the next one."
+
+"You're a million times better!" exclaimed 'Tilda Jane. "Oh, what
+a glad man Mr. Waysmith will be to have you in his mill! Come now,
+let's have supper. Dear ole grampa mus' get to bed. You wouldn't like
+to kill him with joy the first night you're home."
+
+A few minutes later 'Tilda Jane was beaming behind the big
+coffee-pot. At last she had become a member of a really happy
+family. Her dogs were stretched luxuriously on their rag mat by the
+stove, Grampa, calm and quiet, was sipping his coffee, and listening
+to some of Hank's travelling adventures.
+
+She could not contain her delight. Her heart was too full, and
+presently she burst into low, irrepressible laughter.
+
+Her companions stopped talking and stared at her.
+
+"Oh, I can't help it!" she exclaimed, wildly, "I feel as if I'd
+come through a big sea of troubles to reach the promised land! I'm
+crazy--I'm crazy!" and too excited to keep still she pushed her chair
+aside, and rocked back and forth on her feet.
+
+She saw stretching before her a long vista of happy years--the sight
+was almost too much for her, yet even in her ecstasy she thought of
+other children less fortunate.
+
+"Hank, brother Hank!" she called suddenly, "the Tracys say to pass
+on blessings. All the world ain't joyful like us. When you make a
+little money will you let me write to the lady-boards for another
+orphan,--the ugliest little orphan they've got,--worse than me, if
+it's not unpossible."
+
+"You just write it down that I will," said Hank, gazing kindly and
+benevolently at her flushed face.
+
+"We'll do it," cried 'Tilda Jane. "We'll be good to that other
+orphan. I know they'll have one, but how can I wait? What shall I do?
+I mus' hug some one, I'm so happy!"
+
+She flashed a glance at the dogs. They were sleepy and comfortable.
+"Grampa, I guess it'll have to be you," she said, gaily, and, running
+to the old man, she threw her arms around his wrinkled neck, kissed
+his bald head, and fulfilled her promise of a hugging so vigorously
+that at last he called for mercy.
+
+"Now, I'll go take something," she said, demurely, and, with a last
+caress, "you darlin' ole grampa--I could eat you--Lord, give me a
+thankful heart for all these mercies," then, reverently bending her
+head over her plate, she took up her knife and fork with a long and
+happy sigh.
+
+
+  THE END.
+
+
+
+
+L. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S
+
+Cosy Corner Series
+
+OF
+
+Charming Juveniles
+
+
+Each one volume, 16mo, cloth, Illustrated, 50 cents
+
+
+  =Ole Mammy's Torment.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+  Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.
+
+  =The Little Colonel.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+  Author of "Big Brother."
+
+  =Big Brother.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+  Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.
+
+  =The Gate of the Giant Scissors.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+  Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.
+
+  =Two Little Knights of Kentucky,= who were "The Little Colonel's"
+  neighbors. By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+  A sequel to "The Little Colonel."
+
+  =The Story of Dago.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+  Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.
+
+  =Farmer Brown and the Birds.= By FRANCES MARGARET FOX. A little
+  story which teaches children that the birds are man's best
+  friends.
+
+  =Story of a Short Life.= By JULIANA HORATIA EWING.
+  This beautiful and pathetic story is a part of the world's
+  literature and will never die.
+
+  =Jackanapes.= By JULIANA HORATIA EWING.
+  A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite and
+  touching story, dear alike to young and old.
+
+  =The Little Lame Prince.= By MISS MULOCK.
+  A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by
+  means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.
+
+  =The Adventures of a Brownie.= By MISS MULOCK.
+  The story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener,
+  but is a constant joy and delight to the children.
+
+  =His Little Mother.= By MISS MULOCK.
+  Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant source
+  of delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in this new and
+  attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts of readers.
+
+  =Little Sunshine's Holiday.= By MISS MULOCK.
+  "Little Sunshine" is another of those beautiful child-characters
+  for which Miss Mulock is so justly famous.
+
+  =Wee Dorothy.= By LAURA UPDEGRAFF.
+  A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the
+  eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme.
+
+  =Rab and His Friends.= By Dr. JOHN BROWN.
+  Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known to need
+  description.
+
+  =The Water People.= By CHARLES LEE SLEIGHT.
+  Relating the further adventures of "Harry," the little hero of
+  "The Prince of the Pin Elves."
+
+  =The Prince of the Pin Elves.= By CHAS. LEE SLEIGHT.
+  A fascinating story of the underground adventures of a sturdy,
+  reliant American boy among the elves and gnomes.
+
+  =Helena's Wonderworld.= By FRANCES HODGES WHITE.
+  A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in the
+  mysterious regions beneath the sea.
+
+  =For His Country.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS.
+  A beautiful story of a patriotic little American lad.
+
+  =A Little Puritan's First Christmas.= By EDITH ROBINSON.
+
+  =A Little Daughter of Liberty.= By EDITH ROBINSON.
+  Author of "A Loyal Little Maid," "A Little Puritan Rebel," etc.
+  A true story of the Revolution.
+
+  =A Little Puritan Rebel.= By EDITH ROBINSON.
+  An historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the
+  gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.
+
+  =A Loyal Little Maid.= By EDITH ROBINSON.
+  A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in
+  which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important
+  services to George Washington and Alexander Hamilton.
+
+  =A Dog of Flanders.= A CHRISTMAS STORY. By LOUISE DE LA RAMÉE
+  (Ouida).
+
+  =The Nurnberg Stove.= By LOUISE DE LA RAMÉE (Ouida).
+  This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular
+  price.
+
+  =The King of the Golden River.= A LEGEND OF STIRIA. By JOHN
+  RUSKIN.
+  Written fifty years or more ago, this little fairy tale soon
+  became known and made a place for itself.
+
+  =La Belle Nivernaise.= THE STORY OF AN OLD BOAT AND HER CREW. By
+  ALPHONSE DAUDET.
+  It has been out of print for some time, and is now offered in
+  cheap but dainty form in this new edition.
+
+  =The Young King.= =The Star Child.=
+  Two stories chosen from a recent volume by a gifted author, on
+  account of their rare beauty, great power, and deep significance.
+
+  =A Great Emergency.= By MRS. EWING.
+
+  =The Trinity Flower.= By JULIANA HORATIA EWING.
+  In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. Ewing's best
+  short stories for the young people.
+
+  =The Adventures of Beatrice and Jessie.= By RICHARD MANSFIELD.
+  A bright and amusing story of the strange adventures of two
+  little girls in the "realms of unreality."
+
+  =A Child's Garden of Verses.= By R. L. STEVENSON.
+  This little classic is undoubtedly the best of all volumes of
+  poetry for children.
+
+  =Little King Davie.= By NELLIE HELLIS.
+  It is sufficient to say of this book that it has sold over
+  110,000 copies in England, and consequently should well be worthy
+  of a place in "The Cosy Corner Series."
+
+  =Little Peterkin Vandike.= By CHARLES STUART PRATT.
+  The author's dedication furnishes a key to this charming story.
+  "I dedicate this book, made for the amusement of the boys who may
+  read it, to the memory of one boy, who would have enjoyed as much
+  as Peterkin the plays of the Poetry Party."
+
+  =The Making of Zimri Bunker.= A TALE OF NANTUCKET. By W. J. LONG.
+  The story deals with a sturdy American fisher lad during the war
+  of 1812.
+
+  =The Fortunes of the Fellow.= By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE. A sequel
+  to "The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow."
+
+  =The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.= By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE.
+  This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, will
+  appeal to all that is best in the natures of her many admirers.
+
+  =The Sleeping Beauty.= A MODERN VERSION. By MARTHA B. DUNN.
+  A charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, intellectually
+  "asleep," until she meets the "Fairy Prince."
+
+  =The Young Archer.= By CHARLES E. BRIMBLECOM.
+  A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied Columbus on
+  his voyage to the New World.
+
+
+
+
+NEW JUVENILES
+
+
+Our Devoted Friend
+
+the Dog
+
+BY SARAH K. BOLTON
+
+AUTHOR OF "GIRLS WHO HAVE BECOME FAMOUS," ETC.
+
+_Fully illustrated with many reproductions from original photographs._
+
+1 vol., small quarto, $1.50
+
+
+This book of the dog and his friends does for the canine member of
+the household what Helen M. Winslow's book, "Concerning Cats," did
+for the feline. No one who cares for dogs--and that class includes
+nearly all who do not care for cats, and some who do--will admit that
+the subject of Mrs. Bolton's book is a less felicitous choice than
+that of its predecessor; while the author's well-known ability as a
+writer and lecturer, as well as her sympathy with her subject, are a
+sufficient guarantee of a happy treatment.
+
+
+SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+NEW JUVENILES
+
+
+THE
+
+Rosamond Tales
+
+BY CUYLER REYNOLDS
+
+_With many full-page illustrations from original photographs by
+the author, together with a frontispiece from a drawing by Maud
+Humphreys._
+
+Large 12mo, cloth, $1.50
+
+
+These are just the bedtime stories that children always ask for, but
+do not always get. Rosamond and Rosalind are the hero and heroine
+of many happy adventures in town and on their grandfather's farm;
+and the happy listeners to their story will unconsciously absorb a
+vast amount of interesting knowledge of birds, animals, and flowers,
+just the things about which the curiosity of children from four to
+twelve years old is most insatiable. The book will be a boon to tired
+mothers, as a delight to wide-awake children.
+
+
+SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+NEW JUVENILES
+
+
+THE
+
+Little Cousin Series
+
+BY MARY F. WADE
+
+Four volumes, each illustrated, cloth, 12mo, 60 cents
+
+  VOLUME I.
+  Our Little Japanese Cousin
+
+  VOLUME II.
+  Our Little Brown Cousin
+
+  VOLUME III.
+  Our Little Indian Cousin
+
+  VOLUME IV.
+  Our Little Russian Cousin
+
+
+These are the most interesting and delightful accounts possible of
+child-life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings and
+adventures. The "Little Japanese Cousin," with her toys in her wide
+sleeve and her tiny bag of paper handkerchiefs; the "Little Brown
+Cousin," in whose home the leaves of the breadfruit-tree serve for
+plates and the halves of the cocoanut shells for cups; the "Little
+Indian Cousin," who lives the free life of the forest, and the
+"Little Russian Cousin," who dwells by the wintry Neva, are truly
+fascinating characters to the little cousins who will read about them.
+
+
+SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+NEW JUVENILES
+
+
+THE
+
+Cosy Corner Series
+
+A SERIES OF CHARMING ILLUSTRATED JUVENILES BY WELL-KNOWN AUTHORS
+
+We shall issue ten new volumes in this well-known series of child
+classics, and announce three as follows:
+
+
+A Little Puritan Pioneer
+
+BY EDITH ROBINSON
+
+Author of "A Loyal Little Maid," "A Little Puritan's First
+Christmas," etc.
+
+
+Madam Liberality
+
+BY MRS. EWING
+
+Author of "Jackanapes," "A Great Emergency," "Story of a Short Life,"
+etc., etc.
+
+
+A Bad Penny
+
+BY JOHN T. WHEELWRIGHT
+
+
+The other seven will include new stories by Louise de la Ramée, Miss
+Mulock, Nellie Hellis, Will Allen Dromgoole, etc., etc.
+
+_Forty-four volumes previously published_
+
+
+SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+Selections from
+
+L. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S
+
+Books for Young People
+
+
+  =Old Father Gander:= OR, THE BETTER-HALF OF MOTHER GOOSE. RHYMES,
+  CHIMES, AND JINGLES scratched from his own goose-quill for
+  American Goslings. Illustrated with impossible Geese, hatched and
+  raised by WALTER SCOTT HOWARD.
+
+  1 vol., oblong quarto, cloth decorative      $2.00
+
+  The illustrations are so striking and fascinating that the
+  book will appeal to the young people aside from the fact even
+  of the charm and humor of the songs and rhymes. There are
+  thirty-two full-page plates, of which many are in color. The
+  color illustrations are a distinct and successful departure from
+  the old-fashioned lithographic work hitherto invariably used for
+  children's books.
+
+  =The Crock of Gold:= A NEW BOOK OF FAIRY TALES. By S. BARING
+  GOULD.
+
+  Author of "Mehalah," "Old Country Life," "Old English Fairy
+  Tales," etc. With twenty-five full-page illustrations by F. D.
+  Bedford.
+
+  1 vol., tall 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top      $1.50
+
+  This volume will prove a source of delight to the children of two
+  continents, answering their always increasing demand for "more
+  fairy stories."
+
+  =Shireen and Her Friends:= THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A PERSIAN CAT. By
+  GORDON STABLES.
+
+  Illustrated by Harrison Weir.
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative      $1.25
+
+  A more charming book about animals Dr. Stables himself has not
+  written. It is similar in character to "Black Beauty," "Beautiful
+  Joe," and other books which teach us to love and protect the dumb
+  animals.
+
+  =Bully, Fag, and Hero.= By CHARLES J. MANSFORD.
+
+  With six full-page illustrations by S. H. Vedder.
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top      $1.50
+
+  An interesting story of schoolboy life and adventure in school
+  and during the holidays.
+
+  =The Adventures of a Boy Reporter= IN THE PHILIPPINES. By HARRY
+  STEELE MORRISON.
+
+  Author of "A Yankee Boy's Success."
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated      $1.25
+
+  A true story of the courage and enterprise of an American lad. It
+  is a splendid boys' book, filled with healthy interest, and will
+  tend to stimulate and encourage the proper ambition of the young
+  reader.
+
+  =Tales Told in the Zoo.= By F. C. GOULD.
+
+  With many illustrations from original drawings.
+
+  1 vol., large quarto      $2.00
+
+  A new book for young people on entirely original lines.
+
+  The tales are supposed to be told by an old adjutant stork in
+  the Zoological Gardens to the assembled birds located there, and
+  they deal with legendary and folk-lore stories of the origins of
+  various creatures, mostly birds, and their characteristics.
+
+  =Philip:= THE STORY OF A BOY VIOLINIST. By T. W. O.
+
+  1 vol., 12mo, cloth      $1.00
+
+  The life-story of a boy, reared among surroundings singular
+  enough to awaken interest at the start, is described by the
+  present author as it could be described only by one thoroughly
+  familiar with the scene. The reader is carried from the cottages
+  of the humblest coal-miners into the realms of music and art; and
+  the _finale_ of this charming tale is a masterpiece of pathetic
+  interest.
+
+  =Black Beauty:= THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A HORSE. By ANNA SEWELL.
+  _New Illustrated Edition._
+
+  With twenty-five full-page drawings by Winifred Austin.
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top      $1.25
+
+  There have been many editions of this classic, but we confidently
+  offer this one as the most appropriate and handsome yet produced.
+  The illustrations are of special value and beauty, and should
+  make this the standard edition wherever illustrations worthy of
+  the story are desired.
+
+  =The Voyage of the Avenger:= IN THE DAYS OF THE DASHING DRAKE. By
+  HENRY ST. JOHN.
+
+  Author of "A Middy of Nelson's Day," etc. With twenty-five
+  full-page illustrations by Paul Hardy.
+
+  1 vol., tall 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 400 pages      $1.50
+
+  A book of adventure, the scene of which is laid in that stirring
+  period of colonial extension when England's famous naval heroes
+  encountered the ships of Spain, both at home and in the West
+  Indies. Mr. St. John has given his boy readers a rattling good
+  story of the sea. There is plenty of adventure, sufficient in
+  fact to keep a boy fixed near the fireside until the last page is
+  reached.
+
+  =A Child's History of Spain.= By LEONARD WILLIAMS.
+
+  Author of "Ballads and Songs of Spain," etc.
+
+  1 vol., small 12mo, with frontispiece, cloth, gilt top      $0.75
+
+  Although the recent war with Spain has aroused general interest
+  and caused a great demand for literature relating to the subject,
+  there has not as yet been published a condensed history of
+  Spain for young people. Mr. Williams's little book will prove a
+  desirable addition to the children's historical library.
+
+  =Fairy Folk from Far and Near.= By A. C. WOOLF, M. A.
+
+  With numerous full-page color illustrations by Hans Reitz.
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative      $1.50
+
+  It is long since there has appeared such a thoroughly delightful
+  volume of fairy tales as that of Annie C. Woolf. An added
+  attraction to the book is found in the exquisite colored
+  illustrations, the work of Hans Reitz. As a Christmas gift-book
+  to children, these tales will be hard to excel.
+
+  =The Magnet Stories.= By LYNDE PALMER.
+
+  A new edition; new binding and larger size volume, 5 vols., 12mo.
+  Reduced price.
+
+  Drifting and Steering      $1.00
+  One Day's Weaving           1.00
+  Archie's Shadow             1.00
+  John-Jack                   1.00
+  Jeannette's Cisterns        1.00
+
+
+
+
+NEW JUVENILES
+
+
+THE
+
+Woodranger Tales
+
+  VOLUME III.
+  The Hero of the Hills
+  BY G. WALDO BROWNE
+
+  VOLUME I.
+  The Woodranger
+  BY G. WALDO BROWNE
+
+  VOLUME II.
+  The Young Gunbearer
+  BY G. WALDO BROWNE
+
+Each large 12mo, cloth, fully illustrated, $1.00
+
+
+There is the reality of history behind these stories, the successful
+series of "Woodranger Tales," the scope and trend of which are
+accurately set forth in the title. While full of adventure, the
+interest in which sometimes rises to the pitch of excitement, the
+stories are not sensational, for Mr. Browne writes with dignity, if
+with liveliness. The books will not fail to interest any lively,
+wholesome-minded boy.
+
+
+SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+NEW JUVENILES
+
+
+Prince Harold
+
+A FAIRY STORY
+
+BY L. F. BROWN
+
+_With ninety full-page illustrations_
+
+Large 12mo, cloth, $1.50
+
+
+A delightful fairy tale for children, dealing with the life of a
+charming young Prince, who, aided by the Moon Spirit, discovers,
+after many adventures, a beautiful girl whom he makes his Princess.
+He is so enamored that he dwells with his bride in complete seclusion
+for a while, entrusting the conduct of his kingdom meantime to his
+monkey servant, Longtail. The latter marries a monkey princess from
+Amfalulu, and their joint reign is described with the drollest humor.
+The real rulers finally return and upset the reign of the pretenders.
+An original and fascinating story for young people.
+
+
+SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+L. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S
+
+Gift Book Series
+
+FOR
+
+Boys and Girls
+
+
+Each one volume, tall 12mo, cloth, Illustrated, $1.00
+
+
+  =The Little Colonel's House Party.= By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
+
+  Author of "Little Colonel," etc. Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
+
+  Mrs. Johnston has endeared herself to the children by her
+  charming little books published in the Cosy Corner Series.
+  Accordingly, a longer story by her will be eagerly welcomed by
+  the little ones who have so much enjoyed each story from her pen.
+
+  =Chums.= By MARIA LOUISE POOL.
+
+  Author of "Little Bermuda," etc. Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman.
+
+  "Chums" is a girls' book, about girls and for girls. It relates
+  the adventures, in school, and during vacation, of two friends.
+
+  =Three Little Crackers.= FROM DOWN IN DIXIE. By WILL ALLEN
+  DROMGOOLE.
+
+  Author of "The Farrier's Dog." A fascinating story for boys and
+  girls, of the adventures of a family of Alabama children who move
+  to Florida and grow up in the South.
+
+  =Miss Gray's Girls:= OR, SUMMER DAYS IN THE SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS.
+  By JEANNETTE A. GRANT.
+
+  A delightfully told story of a summer trip through Scotland,
+  somewhat out of the beaten track. A teacher, starting at Glasgow,
+  takes a lively party of girls, her pupils, through the Trossachs
+  to Oban, through the Caledonian Canal to Inverness, and as far
+  north as Brora.
+
+  =King Pippin:= A STORY FOR CHILDREN. By MRS. GERARD FORD.
+
+  Author of "Pixie."
+
+  One of the most charming books for young folks which has been
+  issued for some time. The hero is a lovable little fellow, whose
+  frank and winning ways disarm even the crustiest of grandmothers,
+  and win for him the affection of all manner of unlikely people.
+
+  =Feats on the Fiord:= A TALE OF NORWEGIAN LIFE. By HARRIET
+  MARTINEAU.
+
+  This admirable book, read and enjoyed by so many young people,
+  deserves to be brought to the attention of parents in search of
+  wholesome reading for their children to-day. It is something more
+  than a juvenile book, being really one of the most instructive
+  books about Norway and Norwegian life and manners ever written.
+
+  =Songs and Rhymes for the Little Ones.= Compiled by MARY WHITNEY
+  MORRISON (Jenny Wallis).
+
+  New edition, with an introduction by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney.
+
+  No better description of this admirable book can be given than
+  Mrs. Whitney's happy introduction:
+
+  "One might almost as well offer June roses with the assurance
+  of their sweetness, as to present this lovely little gathering
+  of verse, which announces itself, like them, by its own
+  deliciousness. Yet, as Mrs. Morrison's charming volume has long
+  been a delight to me, I am only too happy to declare that it
+  is to me--and to two families of my grandchildren--the most
+  bewitching book of songs for little people that we have ever
+  known."
+
+  =The Young Pearl Divers:= A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN ADVENTURE BY LAND
+  AND BY SEA. By LIEUT. H. PHELPS WHITMARSH.
+
+  This is a splendid story for boys, by an author who writes in
+  vigorous and interesting language, of scenes and adventures with
+  which he is personally acquainted.
+
+  =The Woodranger.= By G. WALDO BROWNE.
+
+  The first of a series of five volumes entitled "The Woodranger
+  Tales."
+
+  Although based strictly on historical facts the book is an
+  interesting and exciting tale of adventure, which will delight
+  all boys, and be by no means unwelcome to their elders.
+
+  =Three Children of Galilee:= A LIFE OF CHRIST FOR THE YOUNG. By
+  JOHN GORDON.
+
+  There has long been a need for a Life of Christ for the young,
+  and this book has been written in answer to this demand. That it
+  will meet with great favor is beyond question, for parents have
+  recognized that their boys and girls want something more than a
+  Bible story, a dry statement of facts, and that, in order to hold
+  the attention of the youthful readers, a book on this subject
+  should have life and movement as well as scrupulous accuracy and
+  religious sentiment.
+
+  =Little Bermuda.= By MARIA LOUISE POOL.
+
+  Author of "Dally," "A Redbridge Neighborhood," "In a Dike
+  Shanty," "Friendship and Folly," etc.
+
+  The adventures of "Little Bermuda" from her home in the tropics
+  to a fashionable American boarding-school. The resulting conflict
+  between the two elements in her nature, the one inherited from
+  her New England ancestry, and the other developed by her West
+  Indian surroundings, gave Miss Pool unusual opportunity for
+  creating an original and fascinating heroine.
+
+  =The Wild Ruthvens:= A HOME STORY. By CURTIS YORK.
+
+  A story illustrating the mistakes, failures, and successes of
+  a family of unruly but warm-hearted boys and girls. They are
+  ultimately softened and civilized by the influence of an invalid
+  cousin, Dick Trevanion, who comes to live with them.
+
+  =The Adventures of a Siberian Cub.= Translated from the Russian
+  of Slibitski by LEON GOLSCHMANN.
+
+  This is indeed a book which will be hailed with delight,
+  especially by children who love to read about animals. The
+  interesting and pathetic adventures of the orphan-bear, Mishook,
+  will appeal to old and young in much the same way as have "Black
+  Beauty" and "Beautiful Joe."
+
+  =Timothy Dole.= By JUNIATA SALSBURY.
+
+  The youthful hero, and a genuine hero he proves to be, starts
+  from home, loses his way, meets with startling adventures, finds
+  friends, kind and many, and grows to be a manly man. It is a
+  wholesome and vigorous book, that boys and girls, and parents as
+  well, will read and enjoy.
+
+
+
+
+  TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
+
+  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
+
+  Bold text is denoted by =equal signs=.
+
+  Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
+  corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
+  the text and consultation of external sources.
+
+  Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
+  and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. For example:
+  writing-pad, writing pad; cocoanut; curtsey; beshawled.
+
+  Pg 38, 'Onct our washerwoman' replaced by 'Once our washerwoman'.
+  Pg 38, 'Onct I took' replaced by 'Once I took'.
+  Pg 42, 'Onct when cats come' replaced by 'Once when cats come'.
+  Pg 90, 'dare the undarable' replaced by 'dare the undareable'.
+  Pg 163, 'only onct a day?' replaced by 'only once a day?'.
+  Pg 180, 'onct have blue eyes' replaced by 'once have blue eyes'.
+  Pg 269, "You mus' he" replaced by "You mus' be".
+
+  Publisher's Book Catalog:
+  In the Cosy Corner Series, 'and announce four' replaced by 'and
+  announce three'.
+
+  A page from 'Gift Series for Boys and Girls' has been moved to its
+  proper position at the end of that section. This page described
+  'Three Children of Galilee' through 'Timothy Dole'.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of 'Tilda Jane, by Marshall Saunders
+
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+
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+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of 'Tilda Jane, by Marshall Saunders
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
+
+
+Title: 'Tilda Jane
+       An Orphan in Search of a Home
+
+Author: Marshall Saunders
+
+Illustrator: Clifford Carleton
+
+Release Date: May 7, 2016 [EBook #52018]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 'TILDA JANE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, John Campbell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<div class="transnote">
+<p><strong>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</strong></p>
+
+<p>Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
+corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
+the text and consultation of external sources.</p>
+
+<p>More detail can be found at the <a href="#TN">end of the book.</a></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="600" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap pg-brk" />
+<p class="p6" />
+<h1>'TILDA JANE</h1>
+<p class="p6" />
+
+
+<hr class="chap pg-brk" />
+<p class="p6" />
+<div class="bbox">
+
+<p class="pfs90">Works of</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120">Marshall Saunders</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>Rose à Charlitte</p>
+<p>Her Sailor</p>
+<p>Deficient Saints</p>
+<p class="negin1x">For His Country and Grandmother and <br />
+the Crow</p>
+<p>'Tilda Jane</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20px;">
+<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" height="22" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="pfs90">L. C. PAGE &amp; COMPANY,</p>
+
+<p class="pfs90">Publishers</p>
+
+<p class="pfs90">200 Summer Street, Boston, Mass.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter pg-brk">
+<a name="FP" id="FP"></a>
+<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="500" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"SHE SPELLED OUT THE INFORMATION, 'I AM AN ORPHAN.'"
+<p class="right padr6">(<em>See <a href="#Page_80">page 80</a></em>)</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p class="p4" />
+<div class="tpage">
+
+<p class="xxl lsp">'TILDA JANE</p>
+
+<p class="large">AN ORPHAN IN SEARCH OF A HOME</p>
+<br />
+<p class="medium"><em>A Story for Boys and Girls</em></p>
+<br />
+
+<p>
+<span class="xs">BY</span><br />
+<span class="large lsp">MARSHALL SAUNDERS</span><br />
+<span class="xs wsp">AUTHOR OF "BEAUTIFUL JOE," "FOR HIS COUNTRY,"<br />
+"ROSE À CHARLITTE," "HER SAILOR,"<br />
+"DEFICIENT SAINTS," ETC.</span></p>
+<br />
+
+<p class="antiqua">Illustrated by</p>
+<p>CLIFFORD CARLETON</p>
+<p class="small"><em>By courtesy of The Youth's Companion</em></p>
+<br />
+
+<p><span class="small">"My brother, when thou seest a poor man,<br />
+behold in him a mirror of the Lord."<br />
+<span class="pad6 smcap">&mdash;St. Francis of Assisi.</span></span></p>
+<br />
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/colophon.jpg" width="100" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<p>BOSTON</p>
+<p class="medium wsp">L. C. PAGE &amp; COMPANY</p>
+<p class="medium">1901</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<div class="p6"></div>
+<div class="tpage">
+
+<p>
+<em>Copyright, 1901</em><br />
+<span class="smcap">By Perry Mason Company</span><br />
+<br />
+<em>Copyright, 1901</em><br />
+<span class="smcap">By L. C. Page &amp; Company</span><br />
+(Incorporated)<br />
+<br />
+<em>All rights reserved</em><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="p6"></div>
+<p class="antiqua">Colonial Press</p>
+<p class="fs80">Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds &amp; Co.<br />
+Boston, Mass., U. S. A.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<div class="p6"></div>
+<div class="tpage wsp">
+
+<p>
+<span class="xs">I DEDICATE THIS STORY TO</span><br />
+<span class="small">EMILE HUGUENIN, JEAN BRUN,<br />
+GERALD MUIR, SANFORD ROTHENBURG,<br />
+HARRY KRUGER, MAUGHS BROWN,</span><br />
+<span class="xs">AND</span><br />
+<span class="small">ROBBIE MACLEAN,</span><br />
+<span class="xs">BOYS OF BELMONT SCHOOL WHO USED TO GATHER ROUND ME<br />
+ON SUNDAY AFTERNOONS AND BEG FOR A MANUSCRIPT<br />
+READING OF THE TRIALS OF MY ORPHAN<br />
+IN SEARCH OF A HOME.</span>
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="p6" />
+<hr class="chap pg-brk" />
+<p class="p6" />
+
+<div class="blockquot fs90">
+
+<p><em>Owing to the exigencies of serial publication, the story of
+"'Tilda Jane," as it appeared in The Youth's Companion, was
+somewhat condensed. In the present version the omitted portions
+have been restored, and the story published in its original
+form.</em></p></div>
+
+
+<p class="p6" />
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p class="p6" />
+
+<h2 class="xl"><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</a></h2>
+<hr class="r10" />
+
+<div class="center smcap">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="90%" summary="Table of Contents">
+<tr><td class="tdr xs">CHAPTER</td><td></td><td class="tdr xs">PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td><td class="tdl">A Creamery Shark</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td><td class="tdl">Even Sharks Have Tender Hearts</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td><td class="tdl">The Story of Her Life</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td><td class="tdl">Unstable as Water</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td><td class="tdl">Another Adventure</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td><td class="tdl">Deaf and Dumb</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td><td class="tdl">Clearing up a Mistake</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td><td class="tdl">A Third Running Away</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td><td class="tdl">Lost in the Woods</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td><td class="tdl">Among Friends</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td><td class="tdl">A Sudden Resolution</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XII.</td><td class="tdl">Farewell to the Poachers</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XIII.</td><td class="tdl">An Attempted Trick</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XIV.</td><td class="tdl">Home, Sweet Home</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XV.</td><td class="tdl">The French Family</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XVI.</td><td class="tdl">The Tiger in His Lair</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XVII.</td><td class="tdl">The Tiger Makes a Spring</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XVIII.</td><td class="tdl">In Search of a Perfect Man</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XIX.</td><td class="tdl">Sweet and Soft Repentance</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XX.</td><td class="tdl">Waiting</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XXI.</td><td class="tdl">The Tiger Becomes a Lamb</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XXII.</td><td class="tdl">A Troubled Mind</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XXIII.</td><td class="tdl">An Unexpected Appearance</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XXIV.</td><td class="tdl">A Friend in Need</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p class="p6" />
+
+<h2 class="xl"><a name="LOI" id="LOI">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</a></h2>
+<hr class="r10" />
+
+<div class="center smcap">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="90%" summary="List of Illustrations">
+<tr><td class="tdl"></td><td class="tdr xs">PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"She spelled out the information, 'I am an orphan'" (<em><span class="fvnormal">See <a href="#Page_80">page 80</a></span></em>)</td><td class="tdr"><em><span class="fvnormal"><a href="#FP">Frontispiece</a></span></em></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'Well, I vum!'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p015">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'Tilda Jane sat like a statue"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p045">45</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'I'm goin' to repent some day'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p092">92</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"He lay down beside her"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p116">116</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'Stop thar&mdash;stop! Stop!'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p168">168</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'You are young for that, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>, yet&mdash;'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p190">190</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"He lifted up his voice and roared at her"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p215">215</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'I've led another dog astray, an' now he's dead'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p235">235</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">"'They was glad to get rid of me'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#p258">258</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap pg-brk" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="pfs240">'TILDA JANE.</p>
+<hr class="r10" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER I.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">A CREAMERY SHARK.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The crows had come back. With the fashionables
+of Maine they had gone south for the winter,
+but now on the third day of March the advance
+guard of the solemn, black army soared in sight.</p>
+
+<p>They were cawing over the green pine woods of
+North Marsden, they were cawing over the black
+spruces of South Marsden, and in Middle Marsden,
+where the sun had melted the snow on a few
+exposed knolls, they were having a serious and
+chattering jubilation over their return to their summer
+haunts.</p>
+
+<p>"Land! ain't they sweet!" muttered a little girl,
+who was herself almost as elfish and impish as a
+crow. She stood with clasped hands in the midst
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+of a spruce thicket. Her face was upturned to the
+hot sun set in the hard blue of the sky. The sun
+burned her, the wind chilled her, but she remained
+motionless, except when the sound of sleigh-bells was
+heard. Then she peered eagerly out into the road.</p>
+
+<p>Time after time she returned to her hiding-place
+with a muttered, "No good!" She allowed a priest
+to go by, two gossiping women on their way from
+the village to spend a day in the country, a minister
+hurrying to the sick-bed of a parishioner, and
+several loaded wood-sleds, but finally a hilarious
+jingle drew her hopefully from her retreat.</p>
+
+<p>Her small black eyes screwed themselves into two
+glittering points as she examined the newcomer.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll do!" she ejaculated; then, with a half-caressing,
+half-threatening, "You'll get murdered if
+there's a word out o' you," addressed to an apparent
+roll of cloth tucked among spruce branches a few
+feet from the ground, she stepped out by the
+snake fence.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, mister!"</p>
+
+<p>The fat young man bobbing over the "thank-you-ma'ams"
+of the snowy road, pulled himself up with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
+a jerk in his small sleigh drawn by a long-legged
+mare.</p>
+
+<p>"Coronation! Where did that noise come from?
+Hello, wood-lark," as he observed the little girl peeping
+at him through the fence, "is there a hawk in
+your nest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who be you?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got an awful pretty name," he replied, flicking
+his whip over the snow-bank beside him, "too
+pretty to tell."</p>
+
+<p>"Who be you?" she asked, pertinaciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Ever hear tell of a creamery shark?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know as sharks favoured cream," she
+said, soberly.</p>
+
+<p>"They dote on it."</p>
+
+<p>"Be you a creamery shark?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;course not. I'm chasing one. I'm a
+farmer."</p>
+
+<p>The small, keen-eyed girl looked him all over.
+He was the creamery shark himself, and he certainly
+had an oily, greasy appearance befitting his
+fondness for cream. However, she did not care
+what he was if he served her purpose.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Will you gimme a lift?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"A lift&mdash;where?"</p>
+
+<p>"Anywhere out o' this," and she pointed back to
+the smart, white village up the river.</p>
+
+<p>"Now what be you?" he said, cunningly.</p>
+
+<p>"I be a runaway."</p>
+
+<p>"What you running from?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a-runnin' from an orphan 'sylum."</p>
+
+<p>"Good for you&mdash;where you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm goin' to Orstralia."</p>
+
+<p>"Better for you&mdash;what you going there
+for?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause," she said, firmly, "they know how
+to treat orphans there. They don't shut 'em
+up together like a lot o' sick pigs. They scatter
+'em in families. The gover'ment pays their
+keep till they get old enough to fend for themselves.
+Then they gets a sum o' money an' they
+works&mdash;I heard a lady-board readin' it in a newspaper."</p>
+
+<p>"A lady-board?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;lady-boards has to run 'sylums."</p>
+
+<p>"Course they do. Well, skip in, little un."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p015" id="p015"></a>
+<img src="images/p015.jpg" width="475" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'WELL, I VUM!'"</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There's another passenger," she said, firmly;
+"an' them as takes me takes him."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you got your granddaddy along?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, siree, but I've got somethin' mos' as good
+as a granddaddy, an' I'd thank you to keep a straight
+tongue when you speak of him."</p>
+
+<p>The young man put the offending tongue in his
+cheek, and chuckled enjoyably as the small, elfish
+figure disappeared in the wood. Presently she
+returned with a good-sized bundle in her arms, that
+she thrust through the fence.</p>
+
+<p>"Give it a name," said the young man; "why,
+see how it's wiggling&mdash;must be some kind of an
+animal. Cat, weasel, rabbit, hen, dog&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop there," she ejaculated; "let it be dog.
+His name's Gippie."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I vum!" the young man said, good-naturedly,
+as she approached the sleigh and deposited
+her beshawled dog on his knees.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess this sleigh warn't built for two," she
+said, as she crawled in beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"Right you are; but you don't want to be carted
+far."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Gimme that dog," she said, taking the bundle,
+"an' start off. Prob'ly they're just hitchin' up to
+be after me."</p>
+
+<p>He clicked his tongue to the long-legged mare,
+and speedily fences and trees began to fly by
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you twig me for?" asked the fat
+young man. "Ain't you had no other chance?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lots," she said, briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"There was an ole boy ahead o' me with a two-seated
+rig, an' a youngster on the back seat. Why
+didn't you freeze on to him?"</p>
+
+<p>She turned her little dark face toward him, a little
+face overspread by sudden passion. "D'ye know
+what that ole shell-back would 'a' done?"</p>
+
+<p>"He'd 'a' took ye in."</p>
+
+<p>"He'd 'a' druv me back to that 'sylum. He looked
+too good, that one. You looked like a baddie."</p>
+
+<p>"Much obliged," he said, dryly.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you've done bad things," she said, inexorably.
+"You've stole pies, an' tole lies, an' fed
+dogs an' cats on the sly. I guess you've been found
+out."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The fat young man fell into a sudden reverie,
+and they passed several white fields in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"They'll never ketch me," she said at last, gleefully;
+"we're goin' like the wind."</p>
+
+<p>The young man looked down at her. She had
+the appearance of a diminutive witch as she sat with
+one hand clasping her faded hat, the other holding
+firmly to the bundle on her lap. Her countenance
+was so much older and shrewder in some phases than
+in others that the young man was puzzled to guess
+her age.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you ain't got any cloak," he said.
+"That's nothing but a dress you've got on, ain't
+it? Take the shawl off that dog."</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," she said, decidedly, "I don't do that."</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on; I've got a horse blanket here," and he
+dived under the seat. "There!" and he wrapped it
+around her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks," she said, briefly, and again her bird-like
+eyes scanned the road ahead.</p>
+
+<p>"Hot cakes an' syrup!" she exclaimed, in a voice
+of resigned distress, "there's the North Marsden
+lady-board comin'. They must have 'phoned her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+Say, mister, lemme sneak under here. If she holes
+you up, you'll have to tell a lie."</p>
+
+<p>The young man grinned delightedly as the little
+girl slipped through the blanket and disappeared
+under the lap-robe. Then he again went skimming
+over the snow.</p>
+
+<p>There was a very grand sleigh approaching him,
+with a befurred coachman on the seat driving a pair
+of roan horses, and behind him a gray-haired lady
+smothered in handsome robes.</p>
+
+<p>"Please stop!" she called pathetically, to the
+approaching young man.</p>
+
+<p>The creamery shark pulled up his mare, and
+blinked thoughtfully at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, have you seen a little girl?" she said excitedly;
+"a poor little girl, very thin and miserable,
+and with a lame, brown dog limping after her?
+She's wandering somewhere&mdash;the unfortunate,
+misguided child. We have had such trouble with
+her at the Middle Marsden Asylum&mdash;the orphan
+asylum, you know. We have fed her and clothed
+her, and now she's run away."</p>
+
+<p>The fat young man became preternaturally solemn,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+the more so as he heard a low growl somewhere in
+the region of his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Did she have black hair as lanky as an Injun's?"
+he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And a kind o' sickly green dress?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, and a dark complexion."</p>
+
+<p>"And a sort of steely air as if she'd dare the
+world?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's it; oh, yes, she wasn't afraid of any one."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I've sighted your game," he said, gravely,
+very gravely, considering that the "game" was
+pinching one of his legs.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll give you the scent," he went on. "Just
+follow this road till you come to the three pine-trees
+at the cross. Then turn toward Spruceville."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you, thank you. I'm ever so much
+obliged. But was she on foot or driving?"</p>
+
+<p>"Driving like sixty, sitting up on the seat beside
+a smooth old farmer with a red wig on, and a face as
+long as a church."</p>
+
+<p>"A red wig!" exclaimed the lady. "Why, that's
+Mr. Dabley&mdash;he's one of our advisory committee."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Dabley or Grabley, he's driving with one of your
+orphans. I see her as plain as day sitting beside
+him&mdash;brown face, faded black hat, sickly green
+frock, bundle on her lap."</p>
+
+<p>"Farmer Dabley&mdash;incredible! How one can be
+deceived. Drive on, Matthew. We must try to
+overtake them. Had he one horse or two?"</p>
+
+<p>"A pair, ma'am&mdash;a light-legged team&mdash;a bay
+and a cream. He's a regular old sport."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a Mephistopheles if he's helping that child
+to escape," said the lady, warmly. "I'll give him a
+piece of my mind."</p>
+
+<p>Her coachman started his horses, and the little
+girl under the robe was beginning to breathe freely
+when a shout from the young man brought her heart
+to her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, ma'am, was that a striped or a plain shawl
+she had her dog wrapped in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Striped&mdash;she had the impudence to steal it
+from the matron, and leave a note saying she did it
+because her jacket was locked up, and she was afraid
+her dog would freeze&mdash;I'm under a great obligation
+to you, sir."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No obligation," he said, lifting his hat. "I'm
+proud to set you on the chase after such a bad young
+one. That's your girl, ma'am. Her shawl was
+striped. I didn't tell you she had the nerve to ask
+me to take her in."</p>
+
+<p>"Not really&mdash;did she?" the lady called back;
+then she added, wonderingly, "but I thought you
+met her driving with Farmer Dabley?"</p>
+
+<p>They had both turned around, and were talking
+over their shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>There was a terrible commotion under the lap-robe,
+and the young man felt that he must be brief.</p>
+
+<p>"If you bark I'll break your neck," he heard the
+refugee say in a menacing whisper, and, to cover a
+series of protesting growls, he shouted, lustily, "Yes,
+ma'am, but first I passed her on foot. Then I
+turned back, and she was with the farmer. That
+young one has got the face of a government mule,
+but I'm used to mules, and when she asked me I
+said, ''Pears to me, little girl, you favour a runaway,
+and I ain't got no room for runaways in this narrow
+rig, 'specially as I'm taking a bundle of clothing to
+my dear old father'&mdash;likewise a young pig," he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+added, as there was a decided squeal from between
+his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, thank you," came faintly after him
+as he started off at a spanking gait, and, "You're
+badder than I thought you was," came reproachfully
+from the tumbled head peeping above the lap-robe.</p>
+
+<p>"You're grateful!" he said, ironically.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm bad, but I only asked the Lord to forgive
+the lies I'd got to tell," said the little girl as she
+once more established herself on the seat. "You
+should 'a' said, 'No, ma'am, I didn't see the little
+girl'&mdash;an' druv on."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you're kind of mixed in your opinions,"
+he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't mixed in my mind. I see things as
+straight as that air road," she replied. "I said,
+'This is a bad business, for I've got to run away,
+but I'll be as square as I can.'"</p>
+
+<p>She paused suddenly, and her companion asked,
+"What's up with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin'," she said, faintly, "only I feel as if
+there was a rat inside o' me. You ain't got any
+crackers round, have you?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, but I've got something better," and he drew
+a flask from the pocket of his big ulster and put it
+to her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>Her nostrils dilated. "I'm a Loyal Legion girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Loyal Legion&mdash;what's that?"</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry">
+<p class="verseq">"Beware of bottles, beware of cups,</p>
+<p class="verse">Evil to him who evil sups."</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Oh! a temperance crank," and he laughed.
+"Well, here's a hunk of cake I put in my pocket
+last night."</p>
+
+<p>The little girl ate with avidity the section of a
+rich fruit loaf he handed her.</p>
+
+<p>"How about your dog?" asked the young
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I guess he ain't hungry," she said, putting
+a morsel against the brown muzzle thrust from the
+shawl. "Everythin' was locked up last night, an'
+there warn't enough lunch for him an' me&mdash;see, he
+ain't for it. He knows when hunger stops an' greed
+begins. That's poetry they taught us."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell us about that place you've been raised.
+No, stop&mdash;you're kind of peaked-looking. Settle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+down an' rest yourself till we pull up for dinner. I'll
+gabble on a bit if you'll give me a starter."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you favour birds an' things, don't you?"
+she observed, shrewdly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yaw&mdash;do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes I think I'm a bird," she said, vehemently,
+"or a worm or somethin'. If I could 'a'
+caught one o' them crows this mornin' I'd 'a' hugged
+it an' kissed it. Ain't they lovely?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don' know about lovely," said the young
+man, in a judicial manner, "but the crow, as I take
+him, is a kind of long-suffering orphan among birds.
+From the minute the farmers turn up these furrows
+under the snow, the crow works like fury. Grubs
+just fly down his red throat, and grasshoppers
+ain't nowhere, but because he now and then lifts
+a hill o' petetters, and pulls a mite o' corn when it
+gets toothsome, and makes way once in so often
+with a fat chicken that's a heap better out o' the
+world than in it, the farmers is down on him, the
+Legislature won't protect him, and the crow&mdash;man's
+good friend&mdash;gets shot by everybody and
+everything!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I wish I was a queen," said the little girl,
+passionately.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sissy, if you ever get to be one, just unmake
+a few laws that are passed to please the
+men who have a pull. Here in Maine you might
+take the bounty off bob-cats, an' let 'em have their
+few sheep, an' you might stand between the mink
+and the spawning trout, and if you want to put a
+check on the robins who make war on the cherries
+an' strawberries, I guess it would be more sensible
+than chasing up the crows."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm remarkin' that you don't beat your horse,"
+said his companion, abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"That mare," said the young man, reflectively,
+"is as smart as I be, and sometimes I think a
+thought smarter."</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't beat that little dog," she said,
+holding up her bundle.</p>
+
+<p>"Bet your striped shawl I wouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"I like you," she said, emphatically. "I guess
+you ain't as bad as you look."</p>
+
+<p>The young man frowned slightly, and fell into
+another reverie.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER II.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">EVEN SHARKS HAVE TENDER HEARTS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The old Moss Glen Inn, elm-shaded and half covered
+by creeping vines, is a favourite resort for travellers
+in the eastern part of Maine, for there a good
+dinner can be obtained in a shorter space of time
+than in any other country hotel in the length and
+breadth of the State.</p>
+
+<p>"And all because there's a smart woman at the
+head of it," explained the young man to the
+little waif beside him. "There she is&mdash;always on
+hand."</p>
+
+<p>A round, good-natured face, crowning a rotund,
+generous figure, smiled at them from the kitchen
+window, but while the eyes smiled, the thick, full
+lips uttered a somewhat different message to a tall,
+thin woman, bending over the stove.</p>
+
+<p>"Ruth Ann, here's that soapy Hank Dillson round
+again,&mdash;takin' in the farmers, as usual, engagin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
+them to pay for machinery and buildings more than
+are needed, considerin' the number of their cows, an'
+he's got a washed-out lookin' young one with him.
+She'll make a breach in the victuals, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>Ruth Ann, who was her sister and helper in
+household affairs, came and looked over her shoulder,
+just as Dillson sprang from the sleigh.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Minley stepped to the door, and stood bobbing
+and smiling as he turned to her.</p>
+
+<p>"How de do, Mrs. Minley. Give this little girl a
+place to lie down till dinner's ready, will you? She's
+dead beat."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane walked gravely into the kitchen, and
+although her head was heavy, and her feet as light as
+if they were about to waft her to regions above, she
+took time to scrutinise the broad face that would
+have been generous but for the deceitful lips, and
+also to cast a glance at the hard, composed woman at
+the window, who looked as if her head, including the
+knob of tightly curled hair at the back, had been
+carved from flint.</p>
+
+<p>"Step right in this way," said Mrs. Minley, bustling
+into a small bedroom on the ground floor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was not used to being waited on, and
+for one proud moment she wished that the children
+in the orphan asylum could see her. Then a feeling
+of danger and insecurity overcame her, and she sank
+on one of the painted, wooden chairs.</p>
+
+<p>"You're done out," said Mrs. Minley, sympathetically.
+"Are you a relation of Mr. Dillson's?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I ain't."</p>
+
+<p>"You can lie on that bed if you like," said
+Mrs. Minley, noticing the longing glance cast
+at it.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I guess I will," said 'Tilda Jane, placing
+her bundle on a chair, and stooping down to unloose
+her shoes.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop till I get some newspapers to put on the
+bed," said the landlady&mdash;"what's in that package?
+It's moving," and she stared at the shawl.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a dog."</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy me! I don't allow no dogs in my
+house."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said the little girl, patiently putting
+on her shoes again.</p>
+
+<p>"What you going to do, child?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm goin' to the wood-shed. Them as won't have
+my dog won't have me."</p>
+
+<p>"Land sakes, child, stay where you be! I guess
+he can't do no harm if you'll watch him."</p>
+
+<p>"No ma'am, he'll not rampage. He's little, an'
+he's ole, an' he's lame, an' he don't care much for
+walkin'. Sometimes you'll hear nothin' out o' him
+all day but a growl or a snap."</p>
+
+<p>The landlady drew away from the bundle, and
+after she had seen the tired head laid on the pillow,
+she softly closed the door of the room.</p>
+
+<p>In two minutes 'Tilda Jane was asleep. The night
+before she had not dared to sleep. To-day, under
+the protection of the creamery shark, she could take
+her rest, her hunger satisfied by the cake he had
+given her in the sleigh. The shark crept in once
+to look at her. "Ain't she a sight?" he whispered
+to Mrs. Minley, who accompanied him, "a half-starved
+monkey."</p>
+
+<p>She playfully made a thrust at his ribs. "Oh,
+go 'long with you&mdash;always making your jokes!
+How can a child look like a monkey?"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled, well pleased at her cajoling tone, then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+stretching himself out in an armchair, he announced
+that dinner must be postponed for an hour to let the
+child have her sleep out.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Minley kept a pleasant face before him, but
+gave vent to some suppressed grumbling in the
+kitchen. With fortitude remarkable in a hungry
+man, he waited until one o'clock, then, losing patience,
+he ate his dinner, and, telling Mrs. Minley
+that he had business in the neighbourhood, and
+would not be back until supper-time, he drove away
+in his sleigh.</p>
+
+<p>At six o'clock 'Tilda Jane felt herself gently
+shaken, and opening her eyes, she started up in
+alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"All right&mdash;'tain't the police," said Mrs. Minley.
+"I know all about you, little girl. You needn't be
+scared o' me. Get up and have a bite of supper.
+Mr. Dillson's going away, and he wants to see you."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane rose and put on her shoes in silence.
+Then she followed the landlady to the next room.
+For an instant she staggered back. She had never
+before seen such a huge, open fireplace, never had
+had such a picture presented to her in the steam<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>-heated
+orphanage. Fresh from troubled dreams,
+it seemed as if these logs were giants' bodies laid
+crosswise. The red flames were from their blood
+that was being licked up against the sooty stones.
+Then the ghastliness vanished, and she approvingly
+took in the picture,&mdash;the fat young
+creamery shark standing over the white cat and
+rubbing her with his toe, the firelight on the
+wall and snowy table, and the big lamp on the
+mantel.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello!" he exclaimed, turning around, "did you
+make your sleep out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes sir," she said, briefly. "Where shall I put
+this dog?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't put him nowhere till we turn this cat out.
+Scat, pussy!" and with his foot he gently assisted
+the small animal kitchenwards.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you can roast your pup here," he said,
+pointing to the vacated corner.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't touch him," warned 'Tilda Jane, putting
+aside his outstretched hand. "He nips worse'n a
+lobster."</p>
+
+<p>"Fine dog that," said the young man, ironically.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+"Come on now, let's fall to. I guess that rat's
+rampaging again."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he's pretty bad," said 'Tilda Jane, demurely;
+and she seated herself in the place indicated.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Minley waited on them herself, and, as she
+passed to and fro between the dining-room and
+kitchen, she bestowed many glances on the lean,
+lank, little girl with the brown face.</p>
+
+<p>After a time she nudged Hank with her elbow.
+"Look at her!"</p>
+
+<p>Hank withdrew his attention for a minute from
+his plate to cast a glance at the downcast head opposite.
+Then he dropped his knife and fork. "Look
+here! I call this kind of low-down."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane raised her moist eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got ham and eggs; fried petetters
+and toast, and two kinds of preserve, and hot
+rolls and coffee, and cake and doughnuts, which
+is more'n you ever got at the asylum, I'll warrant,
+and yet you're crying,&mdash;and after all the
+trouble you've been to me. There's no satisfying
+some people."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane wiped her eyes. "I ain't a-cryin' for
+the 'sylum," she said, stolidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then what are you crying for?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm cryin' 'cause it's such a long way to Orstralia,
+an' I don't know no one. I wish you was a-goin'."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I was, but I ain't. Come on now, eat
+your supper."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I be a fool," she muttered, picking up
+her knife and fork. "I've often heard I was."</p>
+
+<p>"Hi now&mdash;I guess you feel better, don't you?"
+said the young man, twenty minutes later.</p>
+
+<p>He was in excellent humour himself, and, sitting
+tilted back in his chair by the fireplace, played a
+tune on his big white teeth with a toothpick.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I guess I'm better," said 'Tilda Jane,
+soberly. "That was a good supper."</p>
+
+<p>"Hadn't you better feed your pup?" asked the
+young man. "Seems to me he must be dead, he's
+so quiet."</p>
+
+<p>"He's plumb beat out, I guess," said the little
+girl, and she carefully removed the dog's queer
+drapery.</p>
+
+<p>A little, thin, old, brown cur staggered out, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+lips viciously rolled back, and a curious unsteadiness
+of gait.</p>
+
+<p>"Steady, old boy," said the young man; "my
+soul and body, he ain't got but three legs! Whoa&mdash;you're
+running into the table."</p>
+
+<p>"He don't see very well," said 'Tilda Jane, firmly.
+"His eyes is poor."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter with his tail? It don't seem
+to be hung on right."</p>
+
+<p>"It wobbles from having tin cans tied to it.
+Gippie dear, here's a bone."</p>
+
+<p>"Gippie dear," muttered the young man. "I'd
+shoot him if he was my dog."</p>
+
+<p>"If that dog died, I'd die," said the little girl,
+passionately.</p>
+
+<p>"We've got to keep him alive, then," said the
+young man, good-humouredly. "Can't you give him
+some milk?"</p>
+
+<p>She poured out a saucer full and set it before
+him. The partially blind dog snapped at the saucer,
+snapped at her fingers until he smelled them and
+discovered whose they were, then he finally condescended
+to lick out the saucer.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And you like that thing?" said the young man,
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Like him!&mdash;I love him," said 'Tilda Jane,
+affectionately stroking the brown, ugly back.</p>
+
+<p>"And when did he give away that leg?"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head. "It's long to tell. I guess
+you'd ask me to shut up afore I got through."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER III.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">THE STORY OF HER LIFE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The young man said nothing more at the time,
+but ten minutes later, when he was thoughtfully
+smoking a long brown pipe, and 'Tilda Jane sat
+in a chair beside him, rocking her dog, he called
+out to Mrs. Minley, who was hovering about the
+room. "Sit down, Mrs. Minley. P'raps you can
+get this little girl to talk; I can't."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane turned sharply to him. "Oh, mister,
+I'd do anything for you. I'll talk."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, reel it off then. I've got to start soon."</p>
+
+<p>"What d'ye want to know?" she said, doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Everything; tell me where you started from.
+Was you born in the asylum?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody don't know where I was born. Nobody
+don't know who I am, 'cept that a woman come
+to the poorhouse with me to Middle Marsden when
+I was a baby. She died, an' I was left. They give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+me the name of 'Tilda Jane Harper, an' put me in
+the 'sylum. Children come an' went. Just as soon
+as I'd get to like 'em they'd be 'dopted; I never
+was 'dopted, 'cause I'm so ugly. My eyes ought
+to 'a' been blue, an' my hair curly. I might 'a'
+been a servant, but my habits was in the way."</p>
+
+<p>"Habits&mdash;what habits?" asked Hank.</p>
+
+<p>"Habits of impidence an' pig-headedness. When
+the men come to kill the pigs I'd shut myself in
+my room, an' put my fingers in my ears, an' I
+couldn't hear, but I'd always squeal when the pigs
+squealed."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that why you wouldn't eat your ham just
+now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that ain't ham to me," she said, eloquently.
+"That bit o' red meat was a cunnin', teeny white
+pig runnin' round a pen, cryin' 'cause the butcher's
+after him. I couldn't eat it, any more'n I'd eat my
+brother."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a queer little kite," interjected the young
+man, and he exchanged an amused glance with Mrs.
+Minley, who was swaying gently back and forth in a
+rocking-chair.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"So you wasn't very much set up at the asylum?"
+he went on.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I'm too bad for a 'sylum. <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'Onct our washerwoman'">Once our
+washerwoman</ins> took me home to supper. I guess
+heaven must be like that. They had a cat, too. I
+used to get in most trouble at the 'sylum 'bout cats.
+When starvin' ones came rubbin' up agin me in the
+garden, I couldn't help sneakin' them a bit o' bread
+from the pantry. It beats all, how cats find out people
+as likes 'em. Then I'd get jerked up."</p>
+
+<p>"Jerked up?" repeated her interlocutor.</p>
+
+<p>"Locked in my room, or have my hands slapped.
+<ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'Onct I took'">Once I took</ins> a snake in the house. He was cold,
+but he got away from me, an' the matron found him
+in her bed. She whipped me that time."</p>
+
+<p>"Was that what made you run away?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I run away on account o' this dog. You
+call up the cold spell we had a week ago?"</p>
+
+<p>"You bet&mdash;I was out in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there come the coldest night. The matron
+give us extry blankets, but I couldn't sleep. I woke
+up in the middle o' the night, an' I thought o' that
+dog out in the stable. 'He'll freeze,' I said, an'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+when I said it, it seemed as if icicles were stickin'
+into me. I was mos' crazy. I got up an' looked
+out the window. There was a moon, an awful bitin',
+ugly kind of a moon grinnin' at me. I put on some
+clo'es, I slipped down-stairs, an' it seemed as if
+everythin' was yellin' in the cold. Every board
+an' every wall I touched went off like a gun, but
+no one woke, an' I got out in the stable.</p>
+
+<p>"The horse was warm an' so was the cow, but this
+little dog was mos' froze. I tried to warm him, but
+my fingers got like sticks. Then I did a scand'lous
+thing. I says, 'I'll take him in bed with me an'
+warm him for a spell, an' no one'll know;' so I
+lugged him in the house, an' he cuddled down on
+my arm just so cunnin'. Then I tried to stay
+awake, so I could carry him out early in the
+mornin', but didn't I fall to sleep, an' the first thing
+I knowed there was the matron a-spearin' me
+with her eyes, an she put out her hand to ketch
+the dog, an' he up an' bit her, an' then there was
+trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of trouble?" asked the young
+man.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I had bread an' water for two days, an' the dog
+was shut up in the stable, an' then I was brought up
+before the lady-board."</p>
+
+<p>"The lady-board," murmured Mrs. Minley; "what
+does the child mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"The board of lady managers," explained Dillson.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell us about it," he said to 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>The latter was keeping an eye on the clock. She
+knew that the time must soon come for her to part
+from her new-found friend. It was not in her nature
+to be very demonstrative, yet she could not altogether
+hide a certain feverishness and anxiety. One thing,
+however, she could do, and she subdued her emotion
+in order to do it. It amused the young man to hear
+her talk. She would suppress her natural inclination
+to silence and gravity, and try to entertain him.
+And the more she talked, possibly the longer he
+would stay.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore she went on: "There they set round
+the table as big an' handsome as so many pies. One
+lady was at the top, an' she rapped on the table with
+a little hammer, an' said, ''Tention, ladies!' Then
+she says, 'Here is the 'fortinate object of dissection.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+What part shall we tackle fust? Name your wishes,
+ladies.' Then she stopped an' another lady begun,
+'Mam pressiding, stake the case.'"</p>
+
+<p>The young man took his pipe from his mouth, and
+Mrs. Minley ejaculated, "Mercy me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Madam president, I guess," he said, gravely.
+"Go on, sissy."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane went on, still with her eye on the
+clock, and still speaking feverishly. "The mam
+pressiding staked me out. Says she, 'Here is a
+little girl&mdash;she come to us like a lily o' the field;
+no dress on, no bunnit, no nothin'. We've fed an'
+clothed the lily, an' guv her good advice, an' she's
+lifted up her heel agin us. She deifies us, she introjuces
+toads an' snakes into the sacred presings of
+our sinningcherry for orphans. She packs a dirty
+dog in bed. We'll never levelate her. She's lowering
+the key of our 'stution. She knows not the
+place of reptiles an' quadruples. Ladies, shall we
+keep this little disturving lellement in our 'stution?
+If thy hand 'fend against thee cut it off. If thy
+foot straggle, treat it likewise.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then she set down, an' another lady got up.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+Says she, 'I'm always for mercy&mdash;strained mercy
+dropping like juice from heaven. If this little girl is
+turned inside out, she'll be a bright an' shinin' light.
+I prepose that we make the 'speriment. The tastes
+is in her, but we can nip off the grati'cations. I
+remove that instead of disturving her, we disturve
+the animiles. Ladies, we has hard work to run this
+'stution.'"</p>
+
+<p>"This 'stution?" said the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, 'stution," repeated 'Tilda Jane, "that's
+what they call the 'sylum. Well, this lady went on
+an' says she, 'Let's send away the cats an' dogs an'
+all the children's pets&mdash;squirrels an' pigeons an'
+rabbits, 'cause this little girl's disruptin' every child
+on the place. <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'Onct when cats come'">Once when cats come</ins> an' other animiles,
+they was stoned away. Now they're took in.
+I come across one little feller jus' now, an' instead o'
+learnin' his lesson he was playin' with a beetle.
+Ticklin' it with a straw, ladies. Now ain't that
+awful? We've got 'sponsibilities toward these
+foun'lings. I feels like a mother. If we sends 'em
+foolish out in the world we'll be blamed. Our faithful
+matron says it's unpossible to ketch rats an'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
+mice. This little girl gets at the traps, an' let's
+'em go. She's a born rule-smasher!'</p>
+
+<p>"Then she closed her mouth an' set down, an' the
+big lady sittin' at the head o' the table pounded her
+hammer 'cause they all fell to jabberin'. Says she,
+'Will some lady make a commotion?' Then one
+lady got up, an' she says, 'I remove that all animiles
+be decharged from this 'stution.'</p>
+
+<p>"'What about the chickings?' called out another
+lady. 'You must declude them. This will go on
+record.' The other lady said, ''Scuse me, I forgot
+the chickings. I'll mend my dissolution. I remove
+that all quadruples be decharged from this 'stution.'</p>
+
+<p>"That suited some, an' didn't suit t'others, an'
+there was a kind of chally-vally. One lady said she's
+mend the mendment, an' then the mam pressiding
+got kind o' mixy-maxy, an' said they'd better start
+all over agin, 'cause she'd lose her way 'mong so
+many mendments. After a long time, they got their
+ideas sot, an' they said that I was to stay, but all the
+animiles was to go. I didn't snuffle nor nothin', but
+I just said, 'Are you plannin' to kill that there
+dog?'</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The mam pressiding gave a squeal an' said, 'No,
+that would be cruel. They would give the dog to
+some little feller who would be good to him.' I said,
+'Little fellers tie tin cans to dogs' tails'&mdash;an' then
+they got mad with me an' said I was trespicious.
+Then I said, 'All right,' 'cause what could I do agin
+a whole lot o' lady-boards? But I made up my mind
+I'd have to work my way out of it, 'cause it would kill
+that little dog to be took from me. So I run away."</p>
+
+<p>Her story was done, and, closing her lips in dogged
+resolution, she stared inquiringly at the young man.
+He was not going to withdraw his protection from
+her, she saw that, but what would he direct her to
+do next?</p>
+
+<p>He was thoughtfully tapping his pipe against the
+fireplace, now he was putting it in his pocket, and
+now he was going to speak.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p045" id="p045"></a>
+<img src="images/p045.jpg" width="550" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'TILDA JANE SAT LIKE A STATUE."</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Little girl, you've started for Australia, and as I
+don't believe in checking a raring, tearing ambition,
+I won't try to block you, exactly, but only to sidetrack.
+You can't go to Australia bang off. It's too
+far. And you haven't got the funds. Now I'll make
+a proposition. I've got an old father 'most as cranky
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>as that there dog. I guess if you're so long-suffering
+with the animal, you'll be long-suffering with the
+human. He needs some tidy body to keep his house
+trigged up, and to wait on him, 'cause he's lame. He
+has an everlasting wrastle to keep a housekeeper on
+account of this same flash-light temper. But I guess
+from what I've seen of you, that you could fix him.
+And you'd have a home which you seem to hanker
+for. And you could save your money and start for
+Australia when you've put enough flesh on those
+bones to keep you from blowing away into the sea
+and getting lost. Starting would be convenient, for
+my father lives near the big Canadian railway that is
+a round the world route. You can step aboard the
+cars, go to the Pacific, board a steamer, and go on
+your way to Australia. What do you say&mdash;is it a
+bargain?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane sat like a statue. The firelight danced
+behind her little, grave profile that remained unchanged,
+save for the big tears rolling slowly and
+deliberately down each thin cheek and dropping on
+the faded dress. Only the tears and the frantically
+clasped hands betrayed emotion.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I guess it's a go," said the young man, kindly.
+"Here's my father's address," and getting up he
+handed a card to her. "Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset,
+Maine. I've got to make tracks now, but Mrs.
+Minley here will put you on a train that comes by
+here in the morning, and all you've got to do is to sit
+still in it, till you hear the conductor holler Ciscasset.
+Then you hustle out and ask some one where
+Hobart Dillson lives. When you get there, don't
+shake if he throws a crutch at you. Just tell him
+you've come to stay, and I'm going to pay extra
+for it. That'll cool him, 'cause he's had to pay a
+housekeeper out of his own allowance up to this.
+The old boy and I don't rub along together very
+sweet, but he knows the size of a dollar every
+time."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane choked back the suffocating lump in
+her throat, and gravely rose to her feet. "Sir, I'm
+as much obleeged to you as&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Here she broke down.</p>
+
+<p>"As you ought to be," he finished. "Don't mention
+it. I'm happy to make your acquaintance. So
+long," and he politely held out two fingers.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A vague terror seized the little girl. He had
+arranged everything for her, and yet she had never
+since her escape felt so paralysed with fear. Her
+beseeching eyes sought Mrs. Minley's face. The
+landlady was smiling graciously at her, but the little
+girl's heart sunk. Quite unknown to herself, she
+was a sharp reader of character. She was losing her
+best friend in the fat young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Take me with you," she gasped, suddenly clinging
+to his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't do that, sissy. I'm going back into the
+settlements&mdash;bad roads, scattered houses. You'd
+freeze stiff. Better stay here with Mrs. Minley.
+I'll run up to Ciscasset by and by to see you."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane drew back in sudden, steely composure.
+She was ashamed of herself. "I'm crazy,"
+she said, shortly; "you've done enough for me now.
+I'll take care of your father if he gets mad fifty
+times a day."</p>
+
+<p>Already she felt a sense of responsibility. She
+drew herself up with dignity, and in sad, composed
+silence watched the young man leave the room and
+the house. When the last faint sound of his sleigh-bells<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+had died away, she gave up her listening attitude,
+and turned patiently to Mrs. Minley, who was
+saying with a yawn, "I guess you'd better go to
+bed."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane walked obediently toward her room,
+and Mrs. Minley, seating herself on a chair in cold
+curiosity, watched her undress.</p>
+
+<p>When the little girl knelt down to say her prayers,
+a feeble smile illuminated the woman's face. However,
+she was still listless and uninterested, until the
+latter portion of the petition.</p>
+
+<p>"O Lord," 'Tilda Jane was praying earnestly,
+almost passionately, "forgive me for all this sin an'
+'niquity. I just had to run away. I couldn't give
+up that little dog that thou didst send me. I'll live
+square as soon as I get takin' care o' that ole man.
+Bless the matron an' make her forgive me, an' bless
+all the lady-boards&mdash;Mis' Grannis 'specially, 'cause
+she'll be maddest with me. Keep me from tellin'
+any more lies. Amen."</p>
+
+<p>When 'Tilda Jane rose from her knees, Mrs.
+Minley's breath was coming and going quickly, and
+there was a curious light in her eyes. "Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+Grannis, did you say?" she asked, shortly. "Mrs.
+Grannis, over Beaver Dam way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"What has she got to do with the asylum?"</p>
+
+<p>"She's the fust lady-board. She sits behind the
+table an' pounds the hammer."</p>
+
+<p>"And she'll be maddest with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am. She says children has too much
+liberties."</p>
+
+<p>"Hurry into bed," said Mrs. Minley, briefly, and
+taking up the lamp, and without a word of farewell,
+she disappeared from the room.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane cowered down between the cold sheets.
+Then she stretched out a hand to touch the precious
+bundle on the chair by her bed. And then she tried
+to go to sleep, but sleep would not come.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER IV.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">UNSTABLE AS WATER.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>A vague uneasiness possessed her. Ah, how
+happy would she be, could she know that the young
+creamery man was sleeping under the same roof!
+But he was speeding somewhere far away over the
+snowy roads. However, she should see him again.
+He had said so, and, with the hopefulness of youth,
+she sighed a happy sigh and, closing her eyes tightly,
+listened to the various sounds about the quiet house.</p>
+
+<p>There must have been another arrival, for she
+heard doors opening and shutting, and also the jingle
+of sleigh-bells. They were strangely confused in
+her mind with the ringing of the rising-bell at the
+orphan asylum, and she was just sinking into a
+dreamy condition, a forerunner of sleep, when she
+heard a hard voice in her ear.</p>
+
+<p>"Get up an' dress, little girl."</p>
+
+<p>She raised herself quietly from the pillow. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+stood over her the tall, gaunt woman whom she had
+heard Mrs. Minley address as Ruth Ann. To her
+perturbed mind, there rose a vision of a graven
+image from the Bible, as she stared at the woman's
+stony countenance. She was standing shading a
+candle with her hand, and her deep eyes were fixed
+in unmistakable compassion on the little girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Jump up," she repeated, "an' dress like sixty.
+You've got yourself into a peck o' trouble."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane had not a thought of questioning the
+wisdom of this command. Something about the
+hard-faced woman inspired her with confidence, and
+without a word she stepped out of bed, and began
+rapidly putting on her clothes.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll talk while you dress," said the woman, in a
+hard, intense voice, and putting down the candle,
+"but, Lord, how can I say it all?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a kind of desperation in her tone,
+although no trace of emotion appeared on her face.
+'Tilda Jane felt a strange kinship with this reserved
+woman, and flashed her a sympathetic glance while
+buttoning one of her stout and ugly garments.</p>
+
+<p>Ruth Ann made a brief grimace. "Here I am,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+she said, with a sudden burst of speech, "a middle-aged
+woman gettin' old. You're a young one settin'
+out on life's journey. I'll never see you agin,
+prob'bly. Let me give you a word&mdash;be honest, an'
+if you can't be honest, be as honest as you can.
+You'll have no luck otherwise. You may think
+you're havin' luck in bein' sly, but it's a kind o' luck
+that turns to loss in the long run. There's that
+sister o' mine. She reminds me o' Reuben in the
+Bible&mdash;'unstable as water thou shalt not excel.'
+She's that deceitful that I should think she'd choke
+with it so she couldn't breathe."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane made no remark, but as she threw her
+dress over her head her two black eyes scintillated
+wonderingly in the woman's direction.</p>
+
+<p>"Unstable," said Ruth Ann, bitterly. "I'd 'a'
+loved her if she'd been honest, but it's always the
+same,&mdash;fair to the face, foul behind the back. I've
+slaved for her an' waited on her, an' heard her
+praised for work I've done, and seen young men
+oggle her, an' she oggle back, an' I've never had
+an offer an' never will, an' sometimes I think I hate
+her."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane paused for an instant in her rapid
+dressing. This sisterly repulsion was something
+unknown to her childish experience.</p>
+
+<p>"Then when she gets sick from stuffin' herself,
+I'm feared, an' think she's goin' to die, but she'll
+'tend my funeral, an' cry an' look so handsome that
+some ole Jack will pop the question on the way
+home. Here, child, eat these while you dress,"
+and she drew some doughnuts from her pocket.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane pushed them from her, with an involuntary
+movement of dislike.</p>
+
+<p>"You've turned agin me for turnin' agin my
+sister," said the woman, bitterly. "Wait till you're
+treated as I am. An' let me tell you what she's
+done to you. You made mention o' Mis' Grannis.
+Mis' Grannis has got a mortgage on this house.
+Mis' Grannis lends her money, Mis' Grannis is the
+god my sister bows down to. Do you think she'd
+let you stand between her and Mis' Grannis? No&mdash;the
+minute she heard you say Mis' Grannis
+would be pleased to git you back, that minute she
+made up her mind to fool you and Hank Dillson
+that she can't abide 'cause he ain't never asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+her to stop bein' a widow. So she made me help
+her hitch up, an' she's off on the wings of the
+wind to tell her sweet Mis' Grannis to come an'
+git you; an' just to fool her who is so cute at
+foolin' other folks, I made up my mind to git you
+off. Now do you take it in?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane did take in this alarming bit of news,
+and for one instant stood aghast. Then she resolutely
+fell to lacing on her shoes.</p>
+
+<p>"You're gritty," said the woman, admiringly.
+"Now I'll tell you what I've laid out. I'm goin'
+to guide you through the woods to the Moss Glen
+Station. When we git mos' there, I'll skedaddle
+home an' to bed, 'cause I don't want sister to find
+me out. Here's an extry pair o' stockin's an' shoes
+to put on before you board the train. You'll git
+yours full o' snow water. If all goes as I calc'late,
+you'll have time to change 'em in the station.
+You don't want to git sick so you can't stand up
+to that ole man. Here's a little tippet for your
+shoulders. Dillson told sister to give you a shawl,
+but she'll not do it. An' he paid her, too. Now
+come, let's start."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane brushed her hand over her eyes,
+resolutely picked up her dog, and followed her
+guide out to the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>Ruth Ann caught up a shawl, threw it over her
+head, and opened the door. "My&mdash;it's black! I
+guess we'll have to take a lantern."</p>
+
+<p>She turned back, fumbled in a corner of the
+kitchen, struck a light, then rejoined 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes they plodded on in silence.
+Then Ruth Ann said, anxiously, "I don' know
+what I'll do if it don't snow. She'll track us sure&mdash;me,
+big feet, an' you, smaller ones. Glory, it's
+snowin' now!"</p>
+
+<p>A sudden wind had sprung up in the black, quiet
+night, and whirled a few flakes of snow in their
+faces. Then the snow began to fall from above,
+gently and quietly, flake by flake.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane struggled along the heavy road in the
+wake of the tall woman ahead. The small dog
+seemed to have grown larger, and lay a heavy burden
+in her arms. Yet she uttered no word of
+complaint. Her mind was in a whirl, and she gave
+no thought to physical fatigue. What was she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
+doing? Had she&mdash;a little girl&mdash;any right to give
+so much trouble to grown people? Her actions
+were exactly in opposition to every precept that
+had been instilled into her mind. Children should
+be seen and not heard. Children should wait on
+grown people. Children must not lie under any
+circumstances. They must be obedient, truthful,
+honest, and uncomplaining. Perhaps she ought to
+go back to the orphan asylum. She could stand
+punishment herself&mdash;but her dog? They would
+make her give him up. Some boy would get him.
+Boys were all mischievous at times. Could she
+endure the thought of that little feeble frame
+subjected to torture? She could not, and steeling
+her heart against the asylum, the matron, and the
+lady managers, she walked on more quickly than
+ever.</p>
+
+<p>She would never forget that ghostly walk through
+the woods. The narrow way wound always between
+high snow-laden sentinels of trees. The sickly,
+slanting gleam of the lantern lighted only a few
+steps ahead. Mystery and solemnity were all about
+her; the pure and exquisite snow, on which they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+were putting their black-shod feet, was to her the
+trailing robe of an angel who had gone before.
+The large, flat snowflakes, showered on her erring
+head, were missives from the skies, "Go back,
+little girl, go back."</p>
+
+<p>"Lord, I can't go back," she repeated, stubbornly,
+"but I'll repent some more, by and by. Please
+take away the sick feeling in the middle of my
+stomach. I can't enjoy anythin'."</p>
+
+<p>The sick feeling continued, and she gave Ruth
+Ann only a feeble "yes," when she suddenly turned
+and threw the light of the lantern on her with a
+brisk, "Don't you want to know what lie I'm goin'
+to tell 'bout your leavin'?</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not goin' to tell any lie," Ruth Ann continued,
+triumphantly. "If you've got grace enough
+to hold your tongue, other folks'll do all your lyin'
+for you. Sister'll come home, Mis' Grannis with
+her, prob'bly. They'll go ravagin' in the spare
+room. They'll come ravagin' out&mdash;'Ruth Ann,
+that young one's run off!' An' I'll be busy with
+my pots an' pans, an' all I'll have to say is: 'Do
+tell!' or, 'Why, how you talk!' An' sister'll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
+rave an' tear, an' run round like a crazy thing, an'
+look at Mis' Grannis out o' the corner of her eye."</p>
+
+<p>Ruth Ann's shoulders shook with enjoyable
+laughter, but if she had turned suddenly she
+would have seen a look of unmistakable disgust
+flitting over the face behind her.</p>
+
+<p>She did turn suddenly a few minutes later, but the
+look was gone. "Here, give me that dog," she said,
+peremptorily.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl protested, but the woman took him,
+and again they plodded on in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Here we be," she said, after they had been walking
+for an hour longer.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane raised her head. The narrow road had
+abruptly expanded into a circular clearing, and in the
+midst of the clearing stood a small wooden building.</p>
+
+<p>Ruth Ann walked up to it, handed 'Tilda Jane the
+dog and the lantern, and put her hands on one of the
+diminutive windows.</p>
+
+<p>It opened easily, and she ejaculated with satisfaction,
+"Just what I thought. Come, crawl in here;
+the station agent's been here all the evenin', an' the
+fire ain't quite out. You'll be as snug as a bug in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+rug. He'll be back at daylight agin, an' soon after
+your train'll come along for Ciscasset. Don't you
+breathe a word to him 'bout me. Say Mis' Minley
+brought you here, if he asks anythin'. Here's enough
+money to buy your ticket. I ain't got much. Sister
+keeps me short, an' she's took away with her what
+Hank Dillson give her for you. Mind an' keep that
+card with his father's name pinned inside your dress.
+Here's a lunch," and she produced a parcel from her
+pocket. "Don't fret, sister can't git home much before
+breakfast, an' by that time you'll be in Ciscasset,
+an' I guess they'll not follow you there. She don't
+know the name o' the place, anyway. She didn't
+take no 'count when Hank mentioned it, an' when
+she asked me, you'd better believe I forgot it, too."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane scrambled through the window, and,
+upon arriving inside, turned around and gravely shook
+hands with her guide. "I guess I sha'n't forgit this."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you take no pains to remember it before
+sister," said the woman, with a chuckle, "if you don't
+want me to live an' die in hot water. Good luck to
+you. Shut the winder, an' put a stick on the fire,"
+and she strode off through the snow.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane shuddered. She was not a nervous
+child, yet the knowledge that she was alone in a
+forest pressed and bore down upon her. However,
+she was out of the increasing storm. She had got
+her guilty feet off that angel's trailing robe, and the
+little letters from heaven were not dashing in her
+face, nor was there any danger now that one of the
+groaning trees bending to lament over her would fall
+and crush her shrinking form.</p>
+
+<p>They were creaking all around the circular opening&mdash;those
+spying trees&mdash;staring through the curtainless
+windows at her, and instead of throwing on more
+wood, and making a blaze that would enable her to
+be plainly seen, she opened the stove door, and, cowering
+over the embers, changed her wet foot-gear,
+and tried to dry her clinging skirts.</p>
+
+<p>She was entirely miserable until the frightened dog
+crept into her arms. Here was something weaker
+and more in need of protection than herself, and,
+hugging him closely to her, she prepared to spend
+the rest of the night in a patient waiting for the
+morning.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER V.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">ANOTHER ADVENTURE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The quietest and most undemonstrative passenger
+on the night train from Boston was the shabby little
+girl in the corner, with the bundle beside her on the
+seat.</p>
+
+<p>The conductor, after one sharp glance, paid no
+attention to her, the brakemen paid no attention to
+her, the boy with the gum-drops and novels ignored
+her. She had the air of knowing where she was
+going, and also of being utterly uninteresting, and
+greatly to her relief she was left entirely to her own
+devices.</p>
+
+<p>In reality 'Tilda Jane was in a state of semi-paralysis.
+She scarcely dared to move, to breathe. All
+her life had been spent in the quiet precincts of the
+asylum. She had scarcely been allowed to go to the
+small village in its vicinity, and when she had been
+allowed to visit it she had seen nothing as wonderful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+as this, for there was no railway there. It took her
+breath away to be whirled along at so rapid a rate.
+She wondered how the people dared to walk about.
+She wondered how she had ever had courage enough
+to step on board the flaming, roaring monster that
+had come rushing out of the woods as if it would
+devour the little station, the agent, herself, and her
+dog. But they had not been devoured, and the
+agent had guided her staggering footsteps toward the
+monster. If he had not done so, she would in her
+bewilderment have been left a prey for the pitiless
+Mrs. Minley.</p>
+
+<p>For two hours she sat with swimming brain, then
+it occurred to her that she must in some way acquaint
+this wonderful and frightful means of locomotion,
+with her desire to alight at her destination.
+She closely watched the people entering and leaving
+the car, and discovered that immediately following
+the entrance of a man who bawled some unintelligible
+exclamation, something took place that reminded her
+of a game played at the asylum. Certain people went
+out, and certain others came in and took their places.
+She must catch this noisy man and speak to him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She patiently waited for him to pass through the
+car. Once he swept by her, and then some time
+elapsed before she saw him again. The train had
+been waiting for fifteen minutes at a station. A
+number of men had gone out, and presently come
+back brushing their moustaches and with toothpicks
+between their teeth. This must be an eating-place;
+and Ruth Ann said that 'Tilda Jane would arrive in
+Ciscasset before breakfast-time.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl desperately addressed a passenger
+passing her. "I say, sir, when do we come to
+Ciscasset?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ciscasset!" repeated the man. "We passed it
+an hour ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Passed it!" she echoed, stupidly.</p>
+
+<p>The man turned to a news agent sauntering by.
+"Here, you, send the conductor here."</p>
+
+<p>The conductor did not appear, but a brakeman
+came. "Got carried beyond your station, little girl.
+You're in Canada now, but it's all right; we'll ship
+you off at the next stop. Number eight will take
+you back. All ri-i-i-ght."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane fell back on her seat with a strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+sinking of heart. She remembered now that Hank
+Dillson had said the conductor would "holler" Ciscasset;
+but, if he had done so, she had not distinguished
+the words in the strange sounds issuing
+from his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed as if only a few bewildered minutes had
+passed when someone ejaculated, "McAdam Junction!"
+and the friendly brakeman was beside her.
+She felt herself lifted from her seat, bundle and all,
+and swung to a platform, where she stood among a
+group of people. She did not know where to go or
+what to do, and remained as one in a dream until
+some one touched her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"You the little girl carried beyond your station?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," she gasped, and looked up into the
+pleasant face of a young man bending over her.</p>
+
+<p>"All right; the conductor told me about you.
+Come in here," and he led the way to a waiting-room.
+"Had your breakfast?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, but I've got it here," and she pulled
+Ruth Ann's parcel out of her pocket.</p>
+
+<p>The young man smiled and motioned it back.
+"Come have some hot coffee," and he passed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+through a doorway into an eating-room, where 'Tilda
+Jane presently found herself seated before a steaming
+cup of coffee, and a plate of beefsteak and
+potatoes.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't got any money to pay for this," she said,
+bluntly, to the young woman who set the tempting
+viands before her.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right," said the girl, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane picked up her knife and fork. "All
+right!" seemed to be a railway expression. It was
+immensely comforting to her, and she soberly partook
+of the hot breakfast, drank all her coffee, and
+emptied the scraps from her plate into her handkerchief.
+Then she approached the counter where
+the young woman stood.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you kindly, ma'am. I've made a good
+meal."</p>
+
+<p>Then she went outdoors into the crisp morning
+air. The snow-storm was over, and the day was
+delightful&mdash;blue above, white below. It was like
+a fairy world. She walked to the end of the platform,
+unrolled her shawl, and, freeing her mummy-like
+dog, set his breakfast before him. He ate with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
+avidity, then, showing a disinclination to return to
+his bandages, hopped on his three legs along the
+platform beside her, his crooked tail meanwhile
+describing successive circles in the air. Some of
+the loiterers about the station gathered around him,
+and seeing that his bodily infirmities were a subject
+of mirth rather than of compassion, 'Tilda Jane, in
+spite of warm protests on his part, once more
+swathed him in his shawl, and carried him with
+dignity into the waiting-room. There she sat until
+the agreeable young man ran in and said her train
+was coming.</p>
+
+<p>Something warned her that she ought to implore
+him to tell some one to have a care of her&mdash;to see
+that she did not again get carried beyond her destination,
+but a kind of paralysis seized upon her
+tongue, and she could only open her mouth and
+gape stupidly at him.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be all right now," he said, with a nod.
+"Jump when you hear Ciscasset."</p>
+
+<p>"Ciscasset, Ciscasset!" she repeated the name
+in a kind of desperation, then, as the train started
+with a jerk and she tumbled into a seat, she said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+aloud, and without addressing any one in particular,
+"I wish to jump off at Ciscasset."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless the child!" ejaculated an old lady in the
+seat before her, "I guess this is her first journey,"
+and turning around, she stared mildly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, ma'am," said 'Tilda Jane, "can't you help
+me get off at Ciscasset? The train goes so fast, an'
+I'm so little."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless the child!" said the old lady again, "of
+course I will. Conductor, this little girl wishes to
+get off at Ciscasset."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said that official, hurrying by.</p>
+
+<p>"This little girl wishes to get off at Ciscasset,"
+exclaimed the old lady once more, this time to a
+brakeman.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded and passed on, and presently the conductor
+returned and said, smartly, "Tickets!"</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't got any," replied 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you must buy one," said the old lady;
+"have you got any money, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane never thought of asking the conductor
+if he had not been informed of her mishap. She
+never dreamed that the pleasant-faced young man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
+had forgotten to ask that she be carried back to the
+station for which she had bought her ticket. Therefore
+she drew her handkerchief from her pocket,
+untied a knot in its corner, and slowly produced
+fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all the money you've got?" asked the
+conductor, briskly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do you come from?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane preserved a discreet silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Put it up," he said, waving his hand toward the
+handkerchief and immediately going away.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what a nice kind man!" said the old lady.
+"He's going to let you ride free."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane breathed more freely, and returned
+her handkerchief to its place.</p>
+
+<p>The conductor, meanwhile, had gone to a Pullman
+car in the rear, where a man in plain clothes was
+lying back on a seat, apparently engaged in an aimless,
+leisurely scrutiny of the occupants of the car.</p>
+
+<p>"Jack," said the conductor, "there's a slip of a
+girl in the day car&mdash;poor clothes, shawl bundle, no
+money, won't tell where she comes from, making a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
+great fuss about going to Ciscasset, looks like an
+emigrant."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Jack, laconically, then he gave
+an imperceptible nod toward a trio of well-dressed
+young men engaged in card playing. "Want to see
+me nab that New York jeweller's clerk?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yep," said the conductor.</p>
+
+<p>"Got any telegrams in your pocket?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two."</p>
+
+<p>"Lend me one, and sit down here a minute."</p>
+
+<p>Jack got up, the conductor took the vacated seat,
+and waited one, two, three minutes, and then Jack
+reappeared from between the curtains of the drawing-room
+at the rear of the car.</p>
+
+<p>"A telegram for H.J. Bolingbroke," he called, in
+a loud voice; "any passenger of that name in this
+car?"</p>
+
+<p>The youngest of the three men playing cards
+involuntarily raised his head, started from his seat,
+half extended his hand, then drew back.</p>
+
+<p>Jack tossed the telegram to the conductor, and
+nodded to the young man. "Thought you were
+travelling under an assumed name. H. J. Boling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>broke
+<em>alias</em> Blixton. Have you got those diamonds
+in your pocket?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man flushed painfully, while his fellow
+players threw down their cards and surveyed him
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Trouble you to follow me to another car," said
+Jack, and he led the way for the detected smuggler.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane saw the two men pass, and innocently
+stared at them, little dreaming that her turn was to
+come next.</p>
+
+<p>After awhile Jack reappeared and sat down in a
+seat behind 'Tilda Jane. After noticing the ineffectual
+attempts made by the old lady to draw the
+little girl into conversation, he leaned over and
+poured some candy into her lap from a bag he held
+in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Have some, sissy?"</p>
+
+<p>She gratefully flashed him a glance over her
+shoulder. "Thank you, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Going far?" he asked, agreeably.</p>
+
+<p>"To Ciscasset," she said, feverishly. "Will you
+tell me when we come to it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. Going to visit friends?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, going home?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Your home isn't quite so near as Ciscasset?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you bring that small dog across the ocean
+with you?" he asked, his keen eye noting a stirring
+inside the bundle.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you pick him up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some boys were goin' to drown him."</p>
+
+<p>"So you're a kind little girl."</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't as good as I ought to be," she said,
+warmly; "but I'm goin' to try to be better. Oh,
+sir, are we at Ciscasset yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, this is Vanceboro, the border station between
+Canada and the States. I guess you'd better
+come this way for Ciscasset, little girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, this train goes direct to Ciscasset," interposed
+the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am, but this little girl is a stop-over.
+She'll probably go on the next train."</p>
+
+<p>The old lady grew suspicious. "You let that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+child alone, sir. Where's the conductor? Conductor,
+I say, come here. Can't some one get the
+conductor? Don't go with him one step, little
+girl."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane, grown very pale, gazed apprehensively
+at the man, and did not offer to leave her seat.</p>
+
+<p>He threw back his coat and displayed a badge.
+"Madam, I'm a government inspector."</p>
+
+<p>"A government inspector! What's that?" the
+old lady spluttered, eyeing him over her glasses.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, madam, there ain't much time for explanation,
+but I can tell you this much, namely, that
+we have to detain and examine all persons without
+means of livelihood who attempt to enter the United
+States from foreign countries."</p>
+
+<p>She still gazed at him suspiciously. "I never
+heard of such a thing. I guess this is a free
+country."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am, and the government wants to keep
+it free. If you get a lot of pauper foreigners here,
+it'll not be free long."</p>
+
+<p>"This little girl is American, ain't you, sissy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm an orphan," said 'Tilda Jane, guardedly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
+Whatever happened, she was determined not to
+admit too much.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the conductor appeared, and the
+old lady hailed him indignantly. "What does this
+mean, sir? This little girl offered to pay her passage.
+I saw her with my own eyes. Now you're
+going to put her off the train."</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right, ma'am," he said, soothingly, "she'll
+likely be allowed to go on to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"And you'll keep that innocent child here all
+day, and she too frightened to breathe?" cried the
+old lady. "I never heard of such doings. I'll write
+the President! I'll show you up in the papers!"</p>
+
+<p>"She'll be well taken care of, madam," said the
+conductor. "There's a good hotel here. All detained
+are lodged and fed at government expense.
+She'll be put in charge of a chambermaid."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a set of villains!" said the old lady,
+wrathfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, law!" groaned the conductor, "I'm sick of
+these fusses. Pick up her traps, Jack."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, little girl," said Jack, kindly, and 'Tilda
+Jane, seeing that the inevitable had once more over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>taken
+her, rose resignedly, but the too kind and
+officious old lady clung to her so wildly that the
+two men were forced to draw her away from her.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane, in a state of complete bewilderment
+totally unmixed with terror, for she had taken a
+liking to the kind face of her guide, trotted meekly
+after him into the shadow of a long V-shaped building.
+The platform was crowded with people. Two
+trains were standing at the station, and in a large
+dining-room on her right she saw thronged tables
+and hurrying waitresses.</p>
+
+<p>She was ushered into a room where there was a
+handsomely dressed woman with a flushed face and
+tearful eyes, a dejected looking boy and girl sitting
+very close to each other, a diminutive and poorly
+dressed German Jew, and a composed looking man
+sitting behind a small table.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have to leave you now," said her guide.
+"Don't be scared, but speak up," and with a reassuring
+smile he disappeared.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER VI.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">DEAF AND DUMB.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane sat down on a bench in the corner
+and took the dog on her lap.</p>
+
+<p>The fashionably dressed woman was speaking and
+gesticulating earnestly in front of the man whose
+face was only a trifle less calm and stony than that
+of Ruth Ann.</p>
+
+<p>"I never heard of such a thing in my life&mdash;to
+take my sealskin coat from me in the dead of winter.
+Now if it was summer, it wouldn't be so bad. My
+nice coat that cost me four hundred and seventy-five
+dollars."</p>
+
+<p>The man listened stolidly.</p>
+
+<p>"And you tell me your government orders you
+to take ladies' jackets from them. It seems incredible!"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane curiously scanned the garment under
+discussion. It certainly was very handsome.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It is incredible, madam. The government does
+not wish to deprive ladies of their sealskin coats. It
+merely requires its custom officials, of whom I am
+one, to enforce the law which has been made to prevent
+the importation of sealskin coats free of duty."</p>
+
+<p>"And have you taken many jackets?" sneered
+the woman.</p>
+
+<p>The official gazed at her in frigid silence.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go right back to Toronto, where I live," she
+said, indignantly. "I was going to buy my daughter's
+trousseau in New York, but I'll spend every
+cent at home. That's the way we will make New
+York suffer on account of your government being
+so hateful!" and she flounced from the room. The
+man behind the table cast a leisurely glance over
+the remaining occupants of the room. Then he
+addressed the dejected boy and girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, you!&mdash;what's your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thaddeus and Mary Lee," said the boy, mournfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Brother and sister?"</p>
+
+<p>"Man and wife," responded the boy, lugubriously.</p>
+
+<p>The assistant inspector elevated his eyebrows.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What ages?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nineteen and seventeen," sighed the lad.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"To Boston."</p>
+
+<p>"What for?"</p>
+
+<p>"To look for work."</p>
+
+<p>"Got any money?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two dollars and seventy cents."</p>
+
+<p>"That all?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"What place do you come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"Chickaminga, Quebec."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll take the 8.15 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span> train back to-morrow,"
+said the man, briefly. "Now, Deutscher," and he
+nodded to the German Jew.</p>
+
+<p>The boy and girl left the room, hand in hand,
+with melancholy clothing them like a garment, and
+'Tilda Jane gazed after them with wide-open eyes.
+Her attention, however, was soon distracted, for the
+little Jew, the instant he was indicated, sprang from
+his seat, extended both hands, and nimbly skipping
+over the floor between his numerous bundles, overwhelmed
+the inspector with a flood of German.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The inspector leaned back in his chair and at last
+put up a hand with a commanding, "Halt!"</p>
+
+<p>The old man paused open-mouthed, and the inspector
+went on in German: "You left your home,
+you crossed the sea, you wish to go to Portland to
+relatives&mdash;so far, so good, but where are your
+papers?"</p>
+
+<p>The old man broke into a second burst of
+eloquence.</p>
+
+<p>"Your certificate," reiterated the inspector, "your
+writing from the captain of the ship."</p>
+
+<p>The old man shook his head sadly. He had no
+papers.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane did not understand a word of what he
+was saying, but his gestures were expressive, and she
+anxiously watched his interlocutor.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you land?" asked the inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"In Halifax, Nova Scotia."</p>
+
+<p>"From what ship?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Das Veilchen.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Captain's name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Strassburger."</p>
+
+<p>"Your name?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Franz Veier."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll telegraph him. That's all."</p>
+
+<p>"And can I not go to my friends now&mdash;at once?
+They are waiting, they are expecting. We have so
+much to say."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the inspector, and as the German burst
+out into groans and lamentations, he waved him from
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>When the door closed, and 'Tilda Jane felt that the
+cold and scrutinising eyes of the inspector were fixed
+on her, she was stricken with sudden dumbness.
+How these people had talked! She could not in a
+month utter as much as they had said in a few
+minutes. The result of their loquacity had been a
+seeming paralysis of her organs of speech.</p>
+
+<p>"What's your name, little girl?" said the official,
+with slight geniality.</p>
+
+<p>Her lips parted, but no sound came from them.</p>
+
+<p>"<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Sprechen Sie Deutsch?</i>" he asked, agreeably.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head, not from any knowledge of
+his meaning, but to signify her disinclination for
+speech.</p>
+
+<p>"<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Parlez-vous français</i>?" he went on, patiently.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Her head again negatived this question, and he
+inquired in Spanish if she knew that tongue.</p>
+
+<p>The shaking of the head became mechanical, and
+as the inspector knew seventeen languages, he
+addressed her successively in each one of them.</p>
+
+<p>After she had shaken her head at them all, he
+surveyed her a few seconds in meditative silence.
+Then he began to talk on his fingers. She was
+probably deaf and dumb.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane joyfully uncurled her hands from the
+bundle on her lap. This was a safe medium of conversation,
+for talking on the fingers had been a
+favourite amusement of the orphans during silence
+hours; and she would not be tempted to say too
+much, and betray the fact that she was a runaway.
+Accordingly, she spelled out the information, "I am
+an orphan."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do you come from?" he asked her.</p>
+
+<p>"A long ways off," her finger tips informed him.</p>
+
+<p>"Name of place?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you," she responded.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"To&mdash;" she hesitated about the spelling of Cis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>casset,
+but got something near enough to it for him
+to understand.</p>
+
+<p>"Any relatives there?" he spelled on his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Going to visit?'</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any money?" he next asked her, and
+she politely and speedily informed him that she had
+fifty cents.</p>
+
+<p>"You must tell me where you come from," came
+next from him in peremptory finger taps.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," she replied, with spirited movements.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll stay here till you do," he responded,
+and with a yawn he rose, turned his back to her, and
+looked out of the window.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane took up her dog, and slipped out of
+the room. She was not frightened or sorry for the
+deception she had just practised. It did not seem to
+her that it was deception. For the time being she
+was deaf and dumb, and, far from being alarmed by
+her helpless condition, she possessed the strong conviction
+that she would be well taken care of. She
+had also ceased to worry about the board of lady<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+managers, and in her present comfortable, callous
+state of mind she reflected that she might stay here a
+year, and they would never think of looking for her
+in a railway station. She was lost to them, and she
+gaily hummed a tune as she strolled to and fro on
+the big wooden platform, watching the shunting
+engines, the busy custom-house officers, and the
+station yard employees, who were cleaning, rubbing,
+scouring, and preparing cars for further journeys.</p>
+
+<p>At twelve o'clock, just as she was beginning to
+stifle yawns, and gaze wistfully at the windows of
+the dining-room, a young girl in a white apron
+came and stood in the doorway, and, shading her
+eyes from the sun shining in such dazzling brightness
+on the snow, beckoned vigorously to 'Tilda
+Jane.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl needed no second invitation, and,
+with her dog limping behind her, trotted nimbly
+toward her new friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little soul&mdash;she's deef and dumb," said
+the dining-room girl, compassionately, as she passed
+a group of men in the hall. "Ain't it a pity?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane did not speak or smile, nor did her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+conscience, often so troublesomely sensitive, now
+give one reproving twinge. Since talking to the
+inspector she felt as if deaf and dumb. She had
+been officially proclaimed so, and in meek patience
+she seated herself at the table, calmly pointed to
+what she wished, and, being most tenderly and
+assiduously waited upon by the pitying girl, ate a
+large and excellent dinner.</p>
+
+<p>At the orphan asylum there had never been fare
+such as this, and, after she had finished her chocolate
+pudding, and put in her pocket a juicy orange
+that she could not possibly eat, she bowed her head,
+and internally and thankfully repeated the orphanage
+grace after meat.</p>
+
+<p>"Just look at her!" exclaimed the admiring girl.
+"Ain't she cute? What kind of folks must she have
+to let such a poor little innocent travel alone? I
+don't believe she's obstinate. That assistant inspector
+is as hateful as he can be. Come, sissy,
+and I'll show you to your room," and she approached
+'Tilda Jane, and took her by the hand.</p>
+
+<p>The latter pointed to her dog, and not until she
+had seen him satisfy the demands of his appetite,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+would she consent to follow her guide to a neat
+little apartment in the top of the wooden hotel.</p>
+
+<p>Upon arriving there, she thanked the girl by
+a smile, closed the door, and, throwing herself on
+her bed, was soon buried in sweet and wholesome
+slumber.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER VII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">CLEARING UP A MISTAKE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>That evening, when some of the custom-house
+officials and some of the guests of the hotel were
+sitting tipped back in chairs in the smoking-room,
+the assistant inspector said to the inspector, who
+had just come in, "I couldn't make anything of
+your deaf and dumb kid, Jack."</p>
+
+<p>"What deaf and dumb kid?" asked Jack, seating
+himself, and drawing out his cigar case.</p>
+
+<p>"That young one with the bundle."</p>
+
+<p>"She ain't deaf and dumb. Her tongue's hung
+as limber as yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I swan!" said the assistant inspector,
+blankly, and, as he spoke, he brought his chair
+down on its four legs, and gazed about the room
+with an expression of such utter helplessness that
+the other men broke into a roar of laughter.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Don't cry, Blakeman," said Jack, soothingly.
+"It's only once in a coon's age you're fooled."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you suppose the slyboots has gone to bed?"
+asked Blakeman, again tipping back his chair, and
+returning to his professional manner. "Uncle Sam
+hasn't got any spare cash to waste on such like.
+Just open the door, Rufus, and see if you see any
+of the girls about."</p>
+
+<p>A dining-room girl good-naturedly consented to
+go in search of 'Tilda Jane, and upon entering the
+room found her on her knees thoughtfully looking
+down at the railway tracks running close to the
+hotel.</p>
+
+<p>Stepping forward and gently touching her shoulder,
+the girl pointed down-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane nodded, smiled, and, taking her hand,
+went out into the hall and down the staircases with
+her. 'Tilda Jane stared at the ring of men sitting
+in the smoking-room. When she caught sight of
+her friend of the morning, she smiled and bobbed
+her head at him, then, letting her dog slip from her
+arm to the floor, she stood in silence, waiting to be
+questioned.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She had no doubt that this was some special tribunal
+called together to deliberate upon her case. She
+was not afraid of these men, they had kindly faces.</p>
+
+<p>"What made you pretend you were deaf and
+dumb?" asked the inspector, at last.</p>
+
+<p>She opened her mouth once or twice, tried to
+speak, failed, and at last articulated with difficulty,
+and with an air of genuine surprise, "Why&mdash;ain't
+I deef an' dumb? I ain't spoke ever since he made
+me think so till now," and she nodded toward the
+assistant inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"I made you think so!" ejaculated Blakeman,
+irritably.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," she said, dreamily, and lingering over
+her syllables as if she found a new pleasure in the
+exercise of speech. "You had so much to say, an'
+the other people had so much to say, that the room
+seemed chock full o' words. They was flyin' round
+ever so thick, but I couldn't ketch one o' them."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, you've got to quit lying and tell us
+where you come from," said the assistant inspector,
+roughly. "You've got to be sent home to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Sent home?" she repeated wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;to Canada. Now tell us the name of
+the place you belong to, or we'll ship you to some
+poorhouse."</p>
+
+<p>"Do I come from Canada?" she asked, with a
+mystified air.</p>
+
+<p>Jack jogged his assistant's elbow. "Seemed to
+me there was the smell of a ship about her."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so," responded Blakeman who prided himself
+on distinguishing nationalities. "She hasn't
+any European accent. She's from right over the
+border here somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know my mother?" 'Tilda Jane was
+eagerly asking the assistant inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;know her well. If you don't speak up
+I'll telegraph her."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll never speak then," said 'Tilda Jane,
+taking a step forward and clasping her hands painfully.
+"Oh, sir, do telegraph to my mother. I've
+cried an' cried at nights 'bout her. Other girls has
+mothers that loves 'em an' strokes their hair, an'
+nobody ever done that to me. They just thinks I'm
+ugly. Oh, sir, oh, sir, won't you telegraph my
+mother?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Blakeman had gone too far. The sentiment of the
+meeting was against him, and a low murmur warned
+him to retract what he had said.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean your mother," he said, sulkily. "I
+mean your guardians."</p>
+
+<p>"The lady-boards?" asked 'Tilda Jane, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>He did not know what "lady-boards" meant, but
+his silence seemed to give assent to her question,
+and losing the bright flush that had come to her
+face, she relapsed into painful and profound silence.</p>
+
+<p>He would never know how he had hurt her. Oh!
+what hopes he had raised, and in an instant dashed
+to the ground, and checking the convulsion in her
+throat, she stealthily wiped away the two tears of
+distress coursing down her thin cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't cry," said Jack, kindly. "I expect you're
+tired from your trip in the train yesterday. You
+had a pretty long one, hadn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mr. Jack," she said, humbly. "It seemed
+kind o' long, but I'm not used to bein' drug along
+so mighty quick."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't notice her till we passed McAdam
+Junction," whispered Jack to his assistant. "She's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
+come down from some place in New Brunswick.
+Telegraph McAdam."</p>
+
+<p>"They'll not know," growled Blakeman. "Robinson
+on yesterday's Montreal express is the man.
+He'll be back to-night. He'll know where she got
+on. If he'd reported, 'twould have saved this."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess he didn't think we'd struck such an
+obstacle," remarked Jack, with a chuckle. Then he
+said aloud, "Don't you suppose they'll be worrying
+about you, sissy?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," she said, meekly, "they'll be more mad
+than worried."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't lost that paper with the address,
+have you?" said Jack, cunningly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," and she put her hand to her breast.</p>
+
+<p>He got up and walked toward her. "Let me see
+if I can read it."</p>
+
+<p>"There's no 'casion for that," she said, with
+dignity.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll have to let me see it," he said, firmly, so
+firmly that it being no part of her plan to "<ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'dare the undarable'">dare the
+undareable</ins>," she quietly handed Hank's card to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset, Maine," he read, then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
+he gave it back to her. "Thank you, sissy. I
+guess you can go to bed now."</p>
+
+<p>"In a minute," said 'Tilda Jane, submissively,
+while she made a queer bob of a curtsey to all
+present. "Gen'l'men all&mdash;before I go I must say
+somethin'. Up-stairs jus' now I was ponderin' on my
+wickedness. I guess you think I don't know that all
+liars has their portion in the lake o' fire an' brimstone.
+I knows it an' feels it, but gen'l'men I ain't
+told no more lies nor I could help. That 'bout bein'
+deef an' dumb I can't call a lie, 'cause I felt it, an'
+I'm s'prised now to hear myself talk. But I have
+told lies, an' I know it. To-day I had a boss dinner.
+I went to sleep an' on my bed I dreamed. Somethin'
+roared an' shook the house an' I woke in a
+sweat. Did I think the devil had come after me?
+Yes, sirs&mdash;gen'l'men, I've been awful bad, I don't
+s'pose any of you knows what such badness is. I'm
+afeared I've got to go on lyin' till I like lies better'n
+truth. That's what the&mdash;what ladies I has known
+said would happen to little girls as stepped aside
+from the paths of righteousness."</p>
+
+<p>The men were all staring at her, the assistant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+inspector most intently, for this flow of language
+from the supposedly deaf and dumb child surprised
+even him&mdash;a man used to surprises.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm goin' to repent some day," continued 'Tilda
+Jane, sadly, "just as soon as I get out o' this, an'
+enjoyin' fam'ly life. I'm goin' to repent of all 'cept
+one thing, an' I can't repent 'bout that 'cause I
+dunno if it's wrong. Do you like dogs?" and she
+abruptly addressed the assistant inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, brusquely.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you like?" she went on, wistfully,
+"cats, birds, children&mdash;do you like girls, sir, nice
+little girls with blue eyes an' curly hair?"</p>
+
+<p>The assistant inspector was a remarkably fine
+blond specimen of a man, and, as he was popular
+among the young women of the neighbourhood,
+'Tilda Jane's artless question produced a burst of
+laughter from his companions, and a furious flaming
+of colour in his own face.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p092" id="p092"></a>
+<img src="images/p092.jpg" width="500" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'I'M GOIN' TO REPENT SOME DAY.'"</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Her question had gone home, and she proceeded.
+"Suppose you had a nice little girl an' some one wanted
+to take her away, an' frighten her, an' tie jinglin' things
+to her an' make her run, an' you'd ketch her up an'
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>run off to the woods, would that be awful wicked,
+do you s'pose, an' would you have to repent?"</p>
+
+<p>The assistant inspector preserved a discreet and
+resentful silence, but two or three of his companions
+murmured between their pipe-stems and their lips,
+"Not much he wouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Now that's what troubles me," 'Tilda Jane continued.
+"The rest is bad, but is that bad? I guess
+I'll have to ask some minister, an', gen'l'men all,
+I guess you'd better let me go on to Ciscasset.
+You've got a nice place here, an' plenty o' things
+to eat, an' I think you're very fair, but I feel like
+movin' on," and pausing, she anxiously scanned the
+row of faces about her.</p>
+
+<p>"Run away to bed now," said Jack. "We'll tell
+you to-morrow what you're to do," and as 'Tilda
+Jane picked up her pet and disappeared, he sauntered
+across the room, took up a telegraph form, and
+addressed a message to the creamery shark's father.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot fs80">
+
+<p>"Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset. Girl, age about twelve. Dark
+hair, eyes&mdash;run away from place unknown. Going to your
+address. Held as immigrant without means. Refuses to give
+name. Can you supply any information? Answer paid for."</p></div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">A THIRD RUNNING AWAY.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>"Look here, little girl," said Jack, stopping 'Tilda
+Jane as she was coming out of the dining-room the
+next morning, "I've had a telegram from your friend
+in Ciscasset."</p>
+
+<p>"An' what does he say?" she asked, breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll read it," and he drew a paper from his
+pocket. "Never heard of girl. Don't want her.
+Hobart Dillson."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane looked crestfallen, but did not flinch
+in face of the new difficulty. "He's a cranky ole
+man. He'll be all right when I talk to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you're a queer fish," muttered her friend,
+as by way of hiding her chagrin she went quickly
+up-stairs. "We can't do anything with you till
+Robinson gets back, and tells us where he picked
+you up."</p>
+
+<p>The assistant inspector met her in the hall above.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+"Have you made up your mind to talk yet?" he
+asked, austerely.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been amusing myself by telegraphing along
+the line," he said, in the same tone of voice. "None
+of the stations know anything about you, and the
+agent at McAdam has started off in the woods for
+his holidays. The conductor that brought you is
+laid up from an accident to his train, so you've got
+to speak for yourself; and do you know what I've
+made up my mind to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," she said, steadily.</p>
+
+<p>"By to-night if you won't tell me where you
+come from, I'm going to take that dog away from
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Her face turned a sickly yellow, but she did not
+quail. "You wouldn't shoot him, would you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I won't shoot him," he said, deliberately.
+"I guess I'd give him to some nice little girl who
+wouldn't tell lies."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane's head sank on her breast. "Gimme
+till to-morrow morning, sir. I'd like to think it
+over."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'll see about it," he said, with a curious glance
+at her; then he went away.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane knew that he would give her till the
+morning. She would not be troubled by him all
+day. She would have time to think. The worst
+difficulty in her experience confronted her. She
+would lose her dog in any case. To speak was to
+be sent back to the asylum, to remain silent was
+to let her Gippie become the cherished darling of
+some other girl, and in mute agony she caressed
+the smooth brown head, and put her hand before
+the almost sightless eyes as if she would hide from
+them even a suspicion of coming danger.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jack had just stepped on one of the out-going
+trains. She could not appeal to him, and the
+table-girls, since they had found that she was a
+story-teller, slighted her in a most marked way.</p>
+
+<p>She wandered down-stairs and out-of-doors. All
+day she loitered about the station platform watching
+the trains come in,&mdash;deliberate freight-trains,
+with their loads of merchandise, all to be examined
+by the busy customs officials, and rushing express
+trains, with their hundreds of hungry passengers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
+who swept in crowds into the spacious dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>She saw her companions in captivity borne away.
+The fashionable lady got on a train that was entering
+Canada, and the dismal boy and girl followed
+her. The little German Jew, who had been roaming
+about the hotel like a restless ghost, always with
+his hat on and a bundle in his hand as if he wished
+to impress all beholders with the fact that he was
+only tarrying for a short time, had, on the receipt
+of a telegram informing the inspectors that he had
+merely forgotten his papers, become a happy maniac.
+He ran to and fro, he collected his bundles, dropped
+them, to kiss the hand of a table-girl who gave him
+some cakes for his lunch, and had to be restrained
+by main force from boarding every train that pulled
+up at the station.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunate travellers and unfortunate orphan!
+She could not get on one of the trains and be borne
+away. She was watched; she felt it, for she had
+now a perfect comprehension of the system of
+espionage established over unsuspecting travellers.
+The rich and well-dressed ones were passed by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+unless they were wearing sealskin wraps, the poor
+and penniless must give an account of themselves.
+So there was no escape for her by train. She must
+take to the road.</p>
+
+<p>She had better go lie down and try to sleep, she
+reflected with a shudder, as she had now before her
+the prospect of another night in the woods. As
+soon as it got dark, she must try to slip away from
+the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>At six o'clock she had had her nap and was in
+her favourite spot on her knees by her open window.
+Night was approaching, and she felt neither sorry,
+nor frightened, nor apprehensive. The sun was
+going down, and she was so completely wrapped in
+deep and silent content that she could neither speak
+nor think. She did not know that she was an ardent
+lover of nature&mdash;that her whole soul was at the
+present moment so filled with the glory of the winter
+evening that she had no room for her own troubles.</p>
+
+<p>The clanging supper-bell disturbed her, and, with
+a sigh and a look of longing farewell at the sky,
+she closed the window and made her way to the
+dining-room.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>After supper she returned to her post, and, as
+she could not now see the glorious sky and the
+snowy fields, she let her attention fall upon the
+trains below that had begun to have a strange
+fascination for her. She had lost all fear of them
+by this time, and had even begun to notice that
+there were differences in them just as there were
+differences in people. Some were big and bulky,
+others were quick and dashing. Some had hoarse
+voices, some clear ones. The Canadian engines
+coming in shrieked in one tone, the American ones,
+passing them from the other direction, replied in
+another.</p>
+
+<p>Hour after hour went by, and with the time her
+sense of dreamy contentment faded away. It gave
+her but little dismay to look out into the starlit
+night and fancy herself alone in snowy solitudes,
+but it gave her considerable dismay to look down
+below, and find that the hotel was neither getting
+dark nor perfectly quiet, as she fancied all well-regulated
+houses did at night. She had forgotten
+that they could not sleep here, at least everybody
+could not. Trains were coming and going all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+time, and with this constant supervision below, how
+could she evade detection?</p>
+
+<p>"Number seventeen is an hour late and getting
+later every minute," she heard some one call after
+a time; "bad snow-drifts up north."</p>
+
+<p>"Guess I'll take a wink of sleep," a tired voice
+responded, "there'll be nothing but freights for a
+spell," and then followed comparative silence.</p>
+
+<p>Footsteps were only occasionally heard, fewer
+lights flashed in the distance, and it was only at
+much longer intervals that passing trains shook
+the house. There was a lull in the constant
+noises, and now was the time for action. She
+rose stealthily, and took her dog in her arms&mdash;a
+pathetic child figure no longer, but a wary, stealthy
+little elf endeavouring to escape from danger
+threatened by these larger and more powerful
+human beings.</p>
+
+<p>Her sleeping-room was a tiny chamber opening
+out of one occupied by two of the dining-room
+girls. She was not afraid of their waking. She
+had heard them say as they undressed that they had
+to get up at half-past four to iron table-cloths and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+napkins, and there was not an instant's interruption
+of their heavy, dreamless slumber as she stole noiselessly
+by them.</p>
+
+<p>Now for the staircase. She paused anxiously at
+the top, and looked down. There was no one in
+sight, and holding her breath, and tiptoeing cautiously,
+she stole down step by step.</p>
+
+<p>At last she was at the bottom of both flights of
+stairs. So far so good, and she laid her hand on
+the knob of the front door that was never locked.
+But stop, let her pause&mdash;there were sounds outside.</p>
+
+<p>Some one out there hesitated, halted, and remarked
+to some other person behind, "Will you
+come in and have a bite of something to eat?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane scarcely dared to breathe, and, gazing
+down the hall behind her, shook in her substantial
+shoes. She could see the office at the end of the
+hall, and the sleepy clerk napping at his desk. If
+she retreated toward him, he might wake up and
+discover her, and if the men entered she could not
+possibly avoid being caught by them.</p>
+
+<p>In intense anxiety she awaited results. There
+were only a few seconds of uncertainty, then her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+heart gave a bound of thankfulness. The footsteps
+had passed on, and only waiting till they died away,
+she opened the door and glided through.</p>
+
+<p>Now she was on the brightly lighted platform at
+the mercy of any passer-by, or any wakeful person
+who might be at one of the hotel windows. She
+made one swift rush across it, one leap over the
+railway tracks, and with a stifled exclamation of
+thankfulness found herself on the village road.</p>
+
+<p>Like a dark, diminutive ghost she sped up the
+hill past the silent houses. Now she was comparatively
+safe, yet which way should she go? She was
+completely puzzled, yet she had a vague idea that
+there were great forests surrounding Vanceboro, for
+she had heard the men at the hotel talk of fishing
+and shooting.</p>
+
+<p>Trembling in every limb from excitement, and
+pressing her precious bundle closely to her, she took
+a road to the left. She must not go to the right,
+for across the river was Canada, and if she got into
+that foreign country again, she would have fresh
+difficulties in returning to her own native one. She
+would press on through the village, take to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+woods, and trust to luck to find some house where
+she could ask the way to Ciscasset.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moon to-night, an old, pale moon,
+and it cast a tremulous light over the soft, white
+fields sloping down to the Sainte-Croix River, the
+sleeping village, and the brightly lighted station yard
+in the hollow. She turned around, took one farewell
+glance at the habitations of men, and plunged into
+the winding road leading into the heart of the forest.</p>
+
+<p>Hour after hour she plodded on. This reminded
+her of her walk with Ruth Ann two evenings before,
+only here there was more light, the snow was deeper,
+and the trees were not as high as those on the way
+to the Moss Glen station. She hoped with a shiver
+that she should meet no wild beasts. Hark! What
+was that crashing through the alder bushes? She
+stopped short, clasped her dog to her breast, and
+looked about for some means of defence. Nothing
+offered but a dry tree branch, and she was just
+bending over to seize it when there rushed by her,
+so quickly that she had no time to be afraid, an
+object that caused a faint smile of pleasure to come
+to her pale lips.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This was a large deerhound running along with
+his nose to the snow, and he paid no more attention
+to her than if she had been one of the stumps by
+the side of the road.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, doggie, doggie!" she called, wistfully, but
+he did not return, and, startled by the sound of her
+voice in the intense stillness, she hastily resumed
+her way.</p>
+
+<p>How solemn the moon was, staring down at her
+with that section of a face on which she fancied she
+saw an ear, the corner of a mouth, and one terrible,
+glistening eye. "Little girl, where are you going?
+Are you doing right? Are you not a naughty little
+girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't think about it now," she said, desperately.
+"When I git settled down I'll square things
+up. Anyway, I'm not bad for the fun of it. Law
+me, ain't this road long! Here, Gippie, I guess you
+might walk a few steps. Keep in my tracks an' I'll
+not let anythin' hurt you. If a bear comes, he'll
+eat me first. It'll do you good to stretch your legs
+a mite."</p>
+
+<p>Away back in the hotel Mr. Jack was just getting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+home. "We can let our deaf and dumb kid go in
+the morning," he said to his assistant, who got on
+the train as he left it. "The waitress at McAdam
+was just inquiring about her&mdash;says she's U. S.
+all right. Came from Moss Glen station, didn't
+know Ciscasset when she got to it, and was carried
+on. Agent forgot to speak to Robinson about her,
+and the waitress wanted to know if she got through
+all right."</p>
+
+<p>"U. S.," grumbled the assistant inspector, pausing
+with his foot on the steps of the baggage-car, "why
+didn't she say so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Was frightened&mdash;I guess she'd run away&mdash;a
+case of innocence abroad."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we can't hold her if she isn't an immigrant,"
+said Blakeman, with relief. "Let her go.
+They've got a poorhouse in Ciscasset, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"She'll go in no poorhouse," said Mr. Jack, with
+a chuckle. "She's too smart."</p>
+
+<p>If he could have seen at that moment the weary
+little figure toiling along the forest road, he would
+have uttered the appreciative adjective with even
+more energy. Tired, hungry, occasionally stooping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+to lift a handful of snow to her lips, 'Tilda Jane
+plodded on. Her thin figure was bent from fatigue.
+She had again picked up the wailing dog, and had
+slung him on her back in the shawl, yet there was
+not the slightest indication of faltering in her aspect.
+There were no clearings in the woods, no promise
+of settlement, yet her face was ever toward the
+promised land of Ciscasset, and her back to the
+place of captivity in Vanceboro.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER IX.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">LOST IN THE WOODS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Nothing could be more exquisitely beautiful than
+that winter morning in the Maine woods. The
+white glory of the snow, the stealing pink and gold
+glances of the sun, the bravery of the trees proudly
+rearing their heads aloft and stretching out their
+heavily laden arms,&mdash;all made a picture that filled
+with awe even the heart of rough Bob Lucas, unregistered
+guide and nominal lumberman, noted for his
+skill as hunter and poacher and his queer mingling
+of honesty, law-breaking, piety, and profanity.</p>
+
+<p>No, it was not a picture, it was reality, and he was
+a part of it. He was in it, he belonged to this
+glorious morning, the morning belonged to him, and
+he put up his hand and pulled off his cap.</p>
+
+<p>"Branching candlesticks on the altar of the
+Lord," he muttered as he surveyed the trees. "I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+feel like a vessel o' grace, more's the pity I can't
+take on the actions o' one."</p>
+
+<p>He stood lounging in the cabin door&mdash;red-haired,
+long-nosed, unkempt, and stalwart. Inside were his
+two sons getting the breakfast, and the appetising
+odour of frying bacon floated out on the fresh
+air.</p>
+
+<p>"Hi, Poacher&mdash;whot's up with you?" he suddenly
+exclaimed, and his gaze went to a deerhound
+of unusually sturdy build, who was ploughing
+through the snow toward the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>The dog wagged his tail, advanced, and, lifting
+toward him a countenance so bright with intelligence
+that it might almost be called human, opened
+his mouth, and dropped something at his master's
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, boys!" said the man, stepping inside the
+cabin; "what in the name o' creation's this? I
+call it a morsel of woman's togs. Don't your
+mother wear aprons like it, or somethin'?"</p>
+
+<p>The two strapping lads in high boots and woollen
+shirts turned their red faces from the fireplace.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, siree," said the taller of them, fingering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+the scrap of cotton; "they call it something like
+jingo."</p>
+
+<p>"Gingham, you gull," interposed his brother, with
+a guffaw of laughter. "I've seen it in the stores.
+Where'd you get it, pop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Poacher fetched it. When I got out o' my
+bunk this mornin' an' opened the door, he put up
+that ole muzzle of his an' give a sniff. Then off
+he sot. I knew he'd got somethin' on his mind.
+He's been runnin' deer, an' he found this on his
+way back."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a beaut," said the other lad, eyeing him
+admiringly. "He's nosed out something. What'll
+you do, pop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Swaller some breakfast an' make tracks for
+Morse's camp."</p>
+
+<p>"S'pose it was some person," said the younger of
+the boys, uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"By gum!" and the man suddenly smote his
+thigh, "s'pose the ole woman had run after us with
+somethin'. Hustle on your coats, boys. Mebbe it's
+your ma."</p>
+
+<p>The faces of both boys had turned white, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+their hands were shaking. Seizing their coats, they
+rushed out of the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"Pop, it wasn't bitter last night," said the younger,
+in a hushed voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up!" said his father, irritably, and in profound
+silence the three proceeded through the wood
+in single file, following the dog who, without excitement,
+but with his dark face beaming with pleasure
+at being understood, rapidly led them over his own
+tracks of a few minutes previous.</p>
+
+<p>Mile after mile they went in silence, until at last
+the father, who was leading, made a leap forward.</p>
+
+<p>There was a dark mound on the snow against a
+tree trunk, and dropping beside it he turned it over.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank the Lord!" he ejaculated, while scratching
+and beating the snow away from it, "it ain't
+what I feared."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's only a gal," said one of the boys. "Is
+she gone, pop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here&mdash;shake her up," he replied. "What's
+this she's curled round? A dog, sure as thunder,
+an' alive an' warm. Merciful grindstones, look at
+him!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Irritably stepping out of wrappings, consisting of
+a small tippet and a shawl, was a little old dog, the
+most utter contrast to the handsome deerhound that
+could have been imagined.</p>
+
+<p>The hound stared inquiringly and politely at Gippie,
+and, being a denizen of the woods, made the
+first overtures to friendship by politely touching him
+with the end of his muzzle.</p>
+
+<p>The smaller dog snapped at him, whereupon the
+hound withdrew in dignified silence, and watched his
+owners, who were making vigorous efforts to restore
+the benumbed girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Her heart's beatin'," said Lucas, putting his
+hand on it. "The dog lay there, an' kep' it warm."</p>
+
+<p>"Rub her feet&mdash;rub harder," he said to his sons,
+while he himself began chafing 'Tilda Jane's wrists.
+"She's jist the age o' your sister Min. S'pose she
+was here, stone cold an' half dead!"</p>
+
+<p>The boys redoubled their efforts at resuscitation,
+and presently a faint colour appeared in the little
+girl's marble cheeks, and the cold lips slightly moved.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas put his head down. "What you sayin'?
+Dog, is it? He's all right. If you'd wrapped your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>self
+more, an' him less, it might 'a' bin better. Yet,
+I guess not. If it hadn't 'a' bin for the dog, you'd
+'a' bin dead. Put on her shoes, boys. We'll carry
+her to that heap o' logs of ours."</p>
+
+<p>"Pop, will one of us have to show her out?" said
+Joe, anxiously pressing beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yep," said his father. "Here, strip off your
+coat an' put it round her."</p>
+
+<p>"An' I s'pose I'll hev to go 'cause I'm the youngest,"
+said the boy, bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir&mdash;you're always doin' dirty work. This
+time it'll be Zebedee."</p>
+
+<p>Zebedee frowned, and muttered that he wished
+girls would stay out o' the woods; then he tramped
+on beside his brother.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, gimme my gun," said Lucas, presently.
+"You-uns is younger. You kin carry the gal."</p>
+
+<p>He had been carrying 'Tilda Jane over his shoulder,
+and now the little procession started again, this
+time with the boys bearing the semi-unconscious
+burden.</p>
+
+<p>Gippie, squealing and complaining, followed behind
+as well as he was able, but finally, becoming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+stuck in a drift, gave a despairing yell and disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas turned around, went in the direction of
+the crooked tail sticking up from the snow, and
+pulling him out, contemptuously took him under
+his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"If you was my dog, you'd get a bullet to eat.
+Howsomever, you ain't, an' I guess we'll hev to
+keep you for the leetle gal. Git on thar, sons."</p>
+
+<p>Two hours later, 'Tilda Jane opened her eyes on
+a new world. Where had her adventures brought
+her this time? Had she died and gone to heaven?
+No, this must be earth, for she had just heard a
+string of very bad words uttered by some one near
+her. But she could not think about anything. A
+feeling of delicious languor overpowered her, and
+slowly opening and shutting her eyes, she little by
+little allowed her surroundings to impress themselves
+upon her.</p>
+
+<p>She was very warm and comfortable; she was
+sitting on the floor, propped against the wall by
+means of an overturned chair and blankets; a fire
+in an open fireplace blazed beside her; Gippie was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+making his toilet before this fire, and she was very
+happy.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, sup this," some one said, and languidly
+lifting her eyelids, she saw a big red-haired man
+bending over her.</p>
+
+<p>He was holding a cup to her lips&mdash;coffee sweetened
+with molasses. Just what they used to have
+at the asylum, and with a faint smile, and a feeble
+"Thank you, sir," she slowly swallowed it.</p>
+
+<p>"I was scared to give you any before," he said,
+gruffly; "thought you might choke. Here, gimme
+some grub, sons."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane felt a morsel of something put in her
+mouth. It was followed by another morsel of something
+hot and savoury, and speedily she felt new life
+in her veins. She could sit up now, and look about
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Guess you can feed yourself," said the man,
+going back to the table. "Fall to now&mdash;you most
+got to the end of your tether."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane took the two-pronged fork he put in
+her hand, and began to eat with slow avidity, not
+disregarding the requests for titbits from her dog,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+who occasionally paused for that purpose in his
+endeavours to lick himself dry.</p>
+
+<p>At intervals she cast a glance at the centre of
+the cabin, where a man and two boys were seated
+at a rough table. These must be her rescuers. She
+had fallen down in the snow the night before. Not
+even her fear of death had been able to keep her on
+her feet.</p>
+
+<p>She stopped eating. "Who be you?"</p>
+
+<p>"We be lumbermen, when the fit takes us," said
+the man, shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said 'Tilda Jane, "I guess&mdash;" then she
+stopped, overpowered by intense feeling.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess," she went on, finally, "that there
+wouldn't 'a' bin much o' me this morning if it hadn't
+bin for you comin'."</p>
+
+<p>"'Twasn't us," said the man, agreeably, "'twas
+Poacher there," and he indicated the dog under the
+table, who, at the mention of his name, rose and
+walked politely toward the little girl.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her and she looked at him, then he
+took a step nearer and laid his muzzle on her
+shoulder. With exquisite subtlety he comprehended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
+all that she wished to say in relation to himself,
+and all that she felt in relation to the dog race in
+general.</p>
+
+<p>She laid her cheek against his velvet ear. Then
+her arm stole around his neck.</p>
+
+<p>The dog stood in courteous silence, until, feeling
+embarrassed under her attention, he looked somewhat
+foolishly at his master, and appealingly licked
+'Tilda Jane's cheek.</p>
+
+<p>As quick to understand him as he was to understand
+her, she released him, whereupon he lay
+down beside her and put his handsome head on
+her lap.</p>
+
+<p>Gippie extended his muzzle, sniffed suspiciously,
+then his short-sighted eyes discovering the presence
+of a rival, he advanced snapping.</p>
+
+<p>The large dog generously averted his head, and
+Gippie, seeing that he was not to be dislodged,
+meanly curled himself up on Poacher's glossy
+back.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p116" id="p116"></a>
+<img src="images/p116.jpg" width="650" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"HE LAY DOWN BESIDE HER."</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's a boss dog," the man went on.
+"Search the State from Fort Kent to Kittery
+Depot, and you'll not find a cuter. He's given me
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>pointers many a time&mdash;where you hail from, leetle
+gal?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to Ciscasset," she said, dreamily.
+Her mind was running back to the night before,
+and, unaware that she was holding a piece of
+bacon poised on her fork in tempting proximity
+to Poacher's nose, she stared intently at the fire.</p>
+
+<p>She had been near death. Had she been near
+the heaven that the matron and the "lady-boards"
+pictured, or would it have been the other place, on
+account of her disobedience?</p>
+
+<p>"The soul that sinneth it shall die"&mdash;"For whosoever
+shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in
+one point, he is guilty of all"&mdash;"Keep thyself
+pure"&mdash;"For without are dogs, and sorcerers,
+and murderers, and idolaters, and whosoever loveth
+and maketh a lie"&mdash;that meant without the city,
+the beautiful city of gold where her mother probably
+was, and many of her unknown relatives,
+and where all good matrons, orphans, and "lady-boards"
+went.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I'd bin without, with no comfort but
+the dogs," she thought bitterly, and pushing away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
+her plate, she said aloud, "I thank ye kindly, but
+I can't swaller another morsel."</p>
+
+<p>A roar of laughter saluted her ears. Gippie's
+inquiring muzzle had scented out the bacon and
+had seized it, whereupon Poacher, knowing that it
+was not intended for him, had gently but firmly
+taken it from him, and was walking about the
+cabin, holding it aloft, while Gippie snarled at his
+heels.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane paid no attention to them. The
+greater matter of her soul's destiny was under
+consideration. "Are you an extry good man?"
+she abruptly asked her host.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped laughing, and a shadow came over
+his face. Then his glance went to his boys.
+"What you say, sons?"</p>
+
+<p>The boys stared at each other, avoided his eye,
+and said, uneasily, "Course you be, pop&mdash;don't
+make game."</p>
+
+<p>"Make game," repeated the man, strangely,
+"make game," then he laughed shortly, and made
+another onslaught on the bacon and bread.</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause I'm lookin' for an extry good person,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+went on 'Tilda Jane, brusquely. "Some one that
+won't blab, an' that I kin tell a story to."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, thar ain't no extry good persons in the
+woods," said her host, "we be only ordinary. You
+better wait till you git out. What was you doin'
+so far from houses last night, leetle gal, 'stead o'
+bein' tucked snug in bed?"</p>
+
+<p>"I might as well tell the truth," she said, helplessly.
+"I'm tired o' lies. I was runnin' away
+from somethin', but whether my runnin' was good
+or bad is what I can't make out."</p>
+
+<p>"While you're puzzlin' you eat some more breakfus',"
+said the man, getting up and putting another
+supply of bacon on her plate. "You've got to
+call up strength to git out. I s'pose you dunno
+you're some miles from sofas, an' pianos, an' easy
+chairs."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know where I was goin'," she said, apologetically,
+"or what I was comin' to. I jus' travelled
+on an' on. Then I begun to get queery an' I left
+the road. Thinks I, there'll be kind animiles in the
+woods. Mebbe I'll meet a nice black bear, an' he'll
+say, 'Little girl, you're lost an' I'll lead you to my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
+den. We'll be happy to have you an' your little
+dog, an' I'll not let no one eat him, an' I'll give a big
+party an' invite all the foxes, an' deer, an' bears an'
+squirrels 'cause you're fond o' wild beasts, little girl.'
+An' it seemed I'd come to the bear's den, an' there
+was a soft bed, an' I just lay down, an' was goin' to
+sleep when I thought, 'Mebbe if I sleep, some little
+bird'll tell him I'm a baddie, an' he'll eat me up,' an'
+I felt just awful; then I forgot everythin' till I woke
+up here&mdash;I guess I'm obliged to you."</p>
+
+<p>The lumberman was about to reply to her when
+one of the boys ejaculated, "Hist, pop, look at
+Poacher!"</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER X.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">AMONG FRIENDS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The animal had gone to the door, and stood in a
+listening attitude.</p>
+
+<p>"Some one's comin'," said the boy. "Is everythin'
+snug?"</p>
+
+<p>The three cast hurried glances about the room,
+then shaking off a somewhat uneasy expression, the
+man stepped to the one and only window of the
+cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"Game warden Perch," he said, dryly, "and registered
+guide Hersey. Comin' spyin' round&mdash;bad
+luck to 'em," and he sulkily went back to the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>Presently there came a knocking at the door.
+"Come in," bawled Lucas, not inhospitably, and two
+men, much smarter, cleaner, and more dapper-looking
+than the red-haired man and his sons, entered the
+cabin.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Howdye," they said simultaneously, as they stood
+their guns and snow-shoes against the wall, and took
+possession of the two boxes vacated by the boys at a
+sign from their father. Then, with an appearance of
+enjoyment, they dragged the boxes near the fire, and
+stretched out their hands to the blaze.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane saw that they were staring in unmitigated
+astonishment at her, and with a feeling that
+she herself was out of the world and in a place where
+passers-by were few and infrequent, she examined
+them in equal interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Where'd you come from?" asked the elder of
+them at last, fixing her with a pair of piercing
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"She got keeled over on the old road last night,"
+spoke up Lucas, much to her relief. "Lost her
+way. Dog here, found her," and he motioned toward
+Poacher, who was surveying the newcomers in cold
+curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>Warden Perch's attention being drawn to the dog,
+he stared at him earnestly, then turned to his companion.
+"Ever see that animal before?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not near at hand," said the other, with a slight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+sneer. "Guess' I've seen his hind legs and the tip
+of his tail once or twice."</p>
+
+<p>"Hev some breakfus?" said Lucas, who was imperturbably
+going on with his own.</p>
+
+<p>Warden Perch inspected the table. "Not on bacon&mdash;haven't
+you got something more uncommon?"</p>
+
+<p>"We've got some beans in thar," said Lucas, with
+a backward nod of his head toward a bag on the
+floor, "coarse brown beans. They might be a treat
+for ye, seein' ye don't git 'em much in hotels."</p>
+
+<p>Perch flushed angrily and opened his mouth as if
+to make a retort. Then he drew a blank book from
+his pocket, and to calm himself ran his eye over the
+report he was making for the game commissioner of
+the State.</p>
+
+<p>"Left Nexter 10.55 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span> March 1, for Bluefield.
+March 2 at Bearville 11.30 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span> Jim Greene's camp
+Lake Clear at 4.35 <span class="fs70">P. M.</span> March 3 left camp at 7 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span>
+Bill Emerson's camp 9.47 <span class="fs70">A. M.</span> Reached moose yard
+on back side Fern Brook Ridge 1.47 <span class="fs70">P. M.</span> 3 moose
+in yard&mdash;Henry," he said, lifting his head and
+abruptly addressing his companion, "some of those
+poachers have mighty cute tricks."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Henry nodded assent.</p>
+
+<p>"Those fellows at Hacmactac Station tried hard
+to fool us last week,&mdash;cut the legs off the deer, then
+got a couple of bears' feet and had the bone of the
+bear's leg slipped up under the skin on the leg of the
+deer. Then they put them up so sly in three layers
+of bagging with nothing but bears' feet sticking out,
+but I caught on to those bears' legs, and said the
+feet weren't big enough. So I had it opened and
+took the deer and the fellows to Mattawamkeag, and
+I guess they think forty dollars apiece was just about
+enough for a fine."</p>
+
+<p>Lucas and his sons burst out laughing, and 'Tilda
+Jane shrewdly suspected by their amused faces and
+knowing glances that they had heard the story before.
+There was no love lost between these newcomers
+and her preservers, and Lucas and his sons
+would be glad when their callers left the cabin. But
+what was all this talk about deer? Surely they did
+not kill the pretty creatures whom without having
+seen she loved.</p>
+
+<p>She cleared her throat and in a weak little voice
+addressed the game warden. "Sir, I've got pictures<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
+in my joggafry of deer with branching horns. Does
+bad men kill them?"</p>
+
+<p>Warden Perch gave her another alert glance.
+Here was no confederate of poachers. "Yes," he
+said, severely, "bad men do kill them, and dogs chase
+them, but mind this, young girl&mdash;poachers get
+nabbed in the long run. They slide for a time, but
+there's a trip-up at the end. And their dogs, too&mdash;I've
+shot three hounds this week for dogging
+deer."</p>
+
+<p>"You have shot dogs!" repeated 'Tilda Jane, in
+a horrified tone, and pressing Gippie closer to her.</p>
+
+<p>"If I didn't shoot them, they'd kill the deer," said
+the man, irritably.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" murmured 'Tilda Jane. Here was one
+of the mysteries of nature that was quite beyond her
+comprehension. The dog hunted the deer, and the
+man hunted the dog. The deer apparently was the
+weaker one, and she must inquire into the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"What does bad men kill deer for?" she asked,
+timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't you ever eaten any deer meat?" asked
+the warden.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know it was good to eat," she said,
+sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't had any here in this cabin?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess not, unless I might 'a' eat it when I was
+fainty."</p>
+
+<p>Lucas eyed her peculiarly, and the meaning of the
+warden's question and offensive manner burst upon
+her. "That's a good man," she said, indignantly,
+starting from her half-reclining position and pointing
+to Lucas. "I guess men that takes little girls out
+o' snow-banks don't kill deer."</p>
+
+<p>Warden Perch laughed and rose from his seat.
+He had very little sentiment with regard to the
+animal creation. "I calculate we'd better be moving,"
+he said, to the guide. "Don't suppose we'd
+see anything to keep us here, unless we'd hang on
+for the big snow-storm they say is coming, and that
+I expect you're waiting for," and he looked at Lucas.</p>
+
+<p>"Me an' my sons," said the latter, coolly, "is on
+our way to David Morse's lumber camp. Two of
+his hands had to come out 'count o' sickness. We
+lay out to git thar this evenin'. Was late in startin'
+last night, an' camped here. We'll hev to git this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+leetle gal out, 'thout you might undertake it, seein'
+as you're makin' for outside, I s'pose."</p>
+
+<p>"Get your own find out," said the warden, severely;
+"it will keep you out of mischief, and look
+here&mdash;if I find that dog of yours up to tricks, you
+know what I'll do."</p>
+
+<p>"Shoot him on sight," said Lucas, stooping and
+patting the animal who was pressing close to him;
+"but you'll never ketch him, 'cause he ain't the sort
+o' dog to be ketched in any kind o' mischief; hey,
+Poacher?"</p>
+
+<p>The guide went out, and the warden with a scowl
+followed, slamming the door after him.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas and his sons crowded to the window to see
+their callers depart, and when they were fairly out
+of sight, they burst into relieved laughter, and noisily
+drew their boxes up to the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, pop, ain't he mad?" remarked Joe, excitedly.
+"Mad 'cause you're too cute for him.
+He'd give his teeth to fasten something on to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up," said his father, with a roll of his eye
+toward 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>The girl was puzzled. Lucas, who seemed a nice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+man, was treated as if he were not a friend to the
+deer, while the departed ones, whom she did not like
+at all, seemed to be their protectors. "Who are
+those men?" she asked, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, I'll tell you," said Lucas, taking two moose
+ear skins from his pocket, and fitting them together
+to make a tobacco-pouch, "them two is fancy game
+men. The warden an' the guide likes to lounge in
+easy chairs round hotels an' tell of their doin's in
+the woods, how the poachers tremble an' run when
+they see 'em comin'. As a rule, they don't take to
+the woods till they're druv to it by some complaint.
+Then they're awful fierce, an' growl an' show their
+teeth, an' run home. Nobody don't care nothin'
+for 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"Are there many men killing deer?" asked the
+little girl, falteringly.</p>
+
+<p>"Many men!" groaned Lucas. "Law me, what
+a question! Las' year, leetle gal, thar was awful
+heavy snow, eight foot deep in Franklin County,
+seven foot in Somerset, Piscataquis, Penobscot, and
+Aroostook. What a year for big game! They
+couldn't git away. They was as helpless as sheep.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+Storm came on storm, till we was walkin' up among
+the tree branches and knockin' off the snow with
+a stick. Snow covered tracks, and poachers took
+possession o' the airth."</p>
+
+<p>"They lived high in the lumber camps, pop, do
+you mind?" said Zebedee, smacking his lips.
+"When a fellow was starvin' the smell just come
+out to meet him."</p>
+
+<p>"You bet, only you wasn't thar to smell it," said
+his father, sharply, "you mind that. You young
+ones takes to the woods too natural."</p>
+
+<p>He surveyed them with mingled pride and dissatisfaction,
+then came back to his reminiscences. "I
+vum that was a winter, but the deer would 'a' starved
+if they hadn't been shot, for the snow was so deep
+that they couldn't get to their food. That there
+Perch made a great flurry about gettin' in an'
+drivin' six deer to a swamp where they could git
+green stuff, but I don't believe a word of it. I believe
+he shot and ate them."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mind the deer that was dogged into our
+yard, pop?" exclaimed Joe. "I saw 'em as they
+crossed the river&mdash;dog not fifteen foot behind."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And what became of that deer?" asked 'Tilda
+Jane, unsteadily.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas winked at his sons and concluded the story
+himself. "He run across our yard, an' among the
+bark pilers at Meek an' Sons' tannery. When the
+animal come runnin' down between the bark piles,
+some of the crew was for killin' him, but I was
+workin' thar, an' I wouldn't let 'em. He stayed
+round close to us all day, an' when any dog come
+an' sniffed at him, he'd run up close an' tremble,
+an' ask us to see fair play."</p>
+
+<p>"You killed that deer," exclaimed 'Tilda Jane,
+bursting into tears. "Oh! why does God let men
+be so wicked?"</p>
+
+<p>Sobs were almost tearing her little, lean frame to
+pieces. She had not worked up gradually to a
+pitch of emotion, but had fallen immediately into it,
+and Lucas and his sons stared wonderingly at her.</p>
+
+<p>Poor little girl! She looked as if she had come
+through a sea of troubles, and pity stirred in the
+man's rough but not unkindly breast.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up now, shut up, missy," he said, soothingly.
+"We did shoot that feller, but thar warn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+nowhere to keep him, but deer has bin kep'. Soft
+now, an' I'll tell ye of Seth Winthrop, who has a
+park an' is a rich man. Las' year, when you couldn't
+go scarce five mile without seein' tracks o' blood in
+the snow where some one had been slaughterin', a
+moose was chased near Winthrop's place. He was
+so dead beat that he jus' stood an' trembled, an' one
+o' Winthrop's men put a halter on him, an' led him
+to the barnyard an' give him fodder an' drink, an'
+that livin' young moose is in Winthrop's park to-day,
+an' he weighs four hundred pound."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was still sobbing, and Joe nudged his
+father. "Tell her 'bout the bear, pop."</p>
+
+<p>"Now here's somethin' that'll make you laugh,"
+said Lucas, kindly. "It's about a bad bear that
+went an' got drunk. I was on a fishin' trip, an' I
+had a jug o' black-strap with me. Know what that
+is, leetle gal?"</p>
+
+<p>"No-o-o," gasped 'Tilda Jane, who, rather
+ashamed of her emotion, was trying to sober herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal&mdash;it's the State o' Maine name for rum an'
+molasses mixed, an' you take it with you in case you
+git sick. There was some other men with me, an'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
+they'd gone off in a boat on the lake. I had a gun,
+but 'pon my word I didn't think o' usin' it, 'count of
+gratitude to that b'ar for givin' me such a treat&mdash;just
+as good as a circus. Wal, I must tell how it
+happened. I didn't feel well that day&mdash;had a kind
+o' pain, an' I was lyin' on the bank in the sun,
+foolin' an' wishin' I was all right. By an' by,
+thinks I, I'll go to the camp an' hev a drink o' black-strap.
+I was mos' thar, when I met a wicked thief
+b'ar comin' out. Powers around, he was as tipsy as
+a tinker. He'd bin at my black-strap, an' I wish you
+could 'a' seen him. He didn't know where he was at,
+or where he wanted to be at, an' he was jolly, an'
+friendly, an' see-sawed roun' me, an' rolled an' swaggered
+till I tho't I'd die laughin'. My pain went
+like las' year's snow, an' I walked after that b'ar till
+he was out o' sight. Just like a drunken man he
+was, makin' for home, an' in the midst of all his
+foolery havin' an idea of where he'd oughter go.
+I'd 'a' given a good deal to see Mrs. B'ar's face when
+he arrove. An' didn't those other fellers give it to
+me for not shootin' him! I said I couldn't take a
+mean advantage of his sitooation."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane's face was composed now, and
+with a faint smile she reverted to the subject of
+the deer. "Don't you feel bad when you're
+killin' them, an' they looks at you with their big
+eyes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, leetle gal, don't you talk no more
+'bout them, or you'll hev me as mush-hearted as you
+be," said Lucas, getting up and going to the window.
+"At present I ain't got no feelin' about deer excep'
+that what's in the woods is ours. You jus' stand up
+an' try your feet. It's goin' to snow, an' I'd like to
+git you out o' here. Did you ever try to teeter
+along on snow-shoes?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," she said, getting up and walking across
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas was anxiously surveying the sky. "'Pears
+like it was goin' to snow any minute. The las' thaw
+took the heft of it off the ground&mdash;you'd 'a' never
+got in this fur if it hadn't&mdash;an' we're bound to hev
+another big fall. It ain't fur to the road, an' I guess
+you an' Zebedee better start. Lemme see you walk,
+sissy."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane tottered back to her seat.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It's a smart trot home," observed Zebedee.
+"D'ye think she could foot it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pop, it's snowin' now," said Joe, who had taken
+his father's place at the window.</p>
+
+<p>With almost incredible rapidity there had been
+a change in the weather. A small and sullen cloud
+had hidden the dreamy, thoughtful sun, and out of
+the cloud came wheeling, choking gusts, bearing
+bewildered snowflakes up and down, hither and
+thither, before allowing them to alight turbulently
+upon the quiet earth.</p>
+
+<p>"That's quick," muttered Lucas, philosophically.
+"We'll hev to put off opinions till it's over," and he
+again sat down by the fire. The wind tore around
+the small cabin, furiously seeking an entrance, but
+finding none. Outside at least he could have his
+will, and his vengeance fell upon the sturdy young
+firs and spruces, who at his fierce word of command
+threw off their burdens of snow, and bent and swayed
+before his wrath as wildly as the most graceful hardwood
+saplings. The older trees bent more reluctantly.
+They had seen many winters, many
+storms, yet occasionally a groan burst from them as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+the raging breath of the wind monster blew around
+some decaying giant and hurled him to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane pictured the scene without, and cowered
+closer to the fire. Gippie was on her lap,
+Poacher beside her, and this man with his two boys,
+who at present personified her best friends in the
+world, were safe and warm in their shelter.</p>
+
+<p>Her dark face cleared, and in dreamy content she
+listened to the string of hunting stories reeled off
+by the two boys, who, without addressing her directly,
+were evidently stimulated by the knowledge
+that here was an interested, appreciative, and "brand
+new" listener.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XI.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">A SUDDEN RESOLUTION.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The storm did not abate. All day long it raged
+around the cabin, and the four prisoners talked,
+ate, and drank without grumbling at their captivity.
+When bedtime approached, Lucas addressed 'Tilda
+Jane in an apologetic manner. "Ye see we ain't
+used to havin' leetle gals, an' I'm afeard we can't
+make you very comfy, as my ole woman says, but
+we'll do the best we kin. This room's all we've got,
+but I'm goin' to try to make it two. See here,"
+and rising, he went to one of the rough bunks built
+against the wall opposite the fire; "I'm a-goin' to
+drape ye off a place for yourself and dog," and,
+hanging a blanket on a hook by the fireplace, he
+called loudly for a nail to drive in the logs across
+the corner.</p>
+
+<p>The two boys, who were playing cards at the
+table, jumped up, and presently 'Tilda Jane had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
+snug corner to herself. Lucas had dragged out one
+of the fragrant fir beds from one of the bunks. The
+rustling of the evergreen inside reminded her of her
+narrow straw bed at the orphanage, and drawing
+the blanket over her, she nestled down and patiently
+waited for her friends to seek their equally fragrant
+couches. She was very sleepy, but she must not
+drop off until she had said her prayers. It never
+occurred to her to repeat them to herself. She
+must get up and say them aloud, and upon her
+knees.</p>
+
+<p>After some time there was silence outside her
+screen, except for the heavy breathing of the sleepers,
+and the slow, deliberate crackling of the fire
+over the fresh wood heaped upon it by Lucas.</p>
+
+<p>She crept quietly from her bed and knelt down.
+"Dear Father in heaven, I thank thee for saving my
+life. I might 'a' been dead at this minute if thou
+hadst not sent that good dog to find me. Please
+make me a better girl for being saved. I'll take
+good care o' that old man if thou wilt let me find
+him. Bless the red-haired man that owns this cabin.
+I guess he is a good man, Lord, but if he kills deer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
+wilt thou not lay on his heart a coal from thy altar?
+If he was a deer, he would not like to be killed.
+Bless him, dear Father in heaven, an' his two boys,
+an' bless me an' Gippie an' Poacher an' keep us safe
+for evermore,&mdash;an' bless the lady-boards, an' the
+matron, an' all the little orphans, an' let them find
+good homes an' get out o' the 'sylum,&mdash;Lord, I
+will write them a letter as soon as I get settled, an'
+confess what is wickedness, an' what ain't. I don't
+want to be a bad little girl. I want to live straight,
+an' go to heaven when I die, but I'm sorry I had
+to begin in a 'sylum. It ain't a place for children
+what likes animiles. For Jesus' sake, Amen."</p>
+
+<p>With a relieved sigh, 'Tilda Jane crept back to
+bed and went to sleep, quite unaware that her petition
+had awakened Lucas, who slept as lightly as
+a cat. She had waked him, and now he could not
+go to sleep. For a long time he lay motionless in
+his bunk, then softly getting up, he seated himself
+on one of the boxes before the fire, and let his head
+sink on his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Years ago he had had a deeply religious mother.
+One who would rise at dead of night and pray<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
+earnestly for her children. 'Tilda Jane's childish
+prayer had brought back this mother from her grave.
+What a good woman she had been! The dying
+wind, sobbing and sighing without, called to mind
+the camp-meetings that he used to attend when he
+was a boy. Churches were few and far between,
+and it was the event of the year for the scattered
+religious people to gather together under the pines
+for out-of-door services. He could hear the women
+singing now,&mdash;the weird sound of their voices
+floated down the chimney. Surely he was among
+them again,&mdash;that good, religious crowd.</p>
+
+<p>He shook himself, muttered an impatient exclamation,
+and went back to bed. No, they were mostly
+dead, his mother was in heaven, and he was a hard,
+impenitent man. But his children&mdash;something
+ought to be done about them. This little girl had
+stirred these old memories&mdash;Zebedee and Joe must
+quit this life, and, with a snarl of determination on
+his brow, he turned over and fell into a profound
+and resolved slumber.</p>
+
+<p>Early the next morning 'Tilda Jane heard some
+one stirring quietly about the cabin. She peeped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+from behind the screen, and found that it was the
+father of the boys. He was making coffee, and
+taking dishes from a shelf to set them on the small
+table. He was also frying meat.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane did not like to venture out until the
+boys had made their toilet, which they presently did
+by springing from their beds, drawing on their boots,
+and smoothing their thick locks with a piece of comb
+that reposed on a small shelf near a broken looking-glass.</p>
+
+<p>When they had finished, she piped through the
+screen, "Will you please gimme a lend o' the comb?"</p>
+
+<p>It was politely handed to her, and in a short time
+she made her appearance.</p>
+
+<p>"Ho&mdash;deer's meat!" said Joe, sniffing joyfully.
+"Where'd you get it, pop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Found half a carcass leanin' agin the door this
+mornin'," he said, briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"Some o' the boys must 'a' left it on their way
+out," remarked Zebedee. "Hard blow to travel in.
+Gimme some, pop."</p>
+
+<p>Lucas had settled himself at the table, and was
+eating with every appearance of enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Nop," he said, pausing, and speaking with his
+mouth full. "That thar is for you an' the leetle
+gal."</p>
+
+<p>The boys stared at him in undisguised astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Fall to," he said, inexorably, "eat your bacon
+and beans, an' be thankful you've got 'em. There's
+many an empty stummick in the woods this mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>Joe, who was readier of speech than his brother,
+found his tongue first. "Ain't you goin' to give us
+any fresh meat, pop?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir-r-r."</p>
+
+<p>"You ain't got loony in the night, pop?"</p>
+
+<p>"Y' don't calklate to eat half a carcass y'rself,
+do ye?" said Zebedee, with a feeble attempt at a
+joke.</p>
+
+<p>"Nop&mdash;what I don't eat, I'll lug off in the
+woods."</p>
+
+<p>"He's loony," said Joe, with resignation, and serving
+himself with bacon.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was silently eating bread and beans,
+and to her Lucas addressed himself. "Leetle gal,
+the storm's a-goin' to conclude accordin' to my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+reckonin'. Kin you foot it out on snow-shoes this
+mornin' to the nearest house, do you s'pose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," she said, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"An' you two boys will keep her comp'ny," said
+Lucas, turning to his sons. "I'm a-goin' to march
+on to Morse's camp."</p>
+
+<p>There was a howl of dismay from Joe. "You
+give me your word Zebedee was to go."</p>
+
+<p>"An' I give you my word now that you're to go,"
+said his father, sternly. "In an hour I'll make
+tracks. You two wait till the last flake's settled,
+then take the leetle gal an' git her out safe an' sound
+to William Mercer's. Ask him to hitch up an' take
+her over to Nicatoos station, an' I'll settle with him.
+Then you skedaddle for home, git out your books,
+an' to-morrer go to school."</p>
+
+<p>This time there was a simultaneous howl from the
+boys, and in the midst of their distress could be
+heard faintly articulated the words, "Pop&mdash;books&mdash;school!"</p>
+
+<p>Lucas turned to 'Tilda Jane. "Yes, we're poachers,
+leetle gal, an' when I ask ye to say nothin'
+about what ye've seen an' heard here, I know ye'll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+keep as mum as we do. I'm a poacher, an' I'm
+goin' to hev a hard time to give it up. They used
+to call me king o' the poachers, till another feller
+come along smarter nor I was. Anyway, I can't
+give it up yet. It's in my blood now, an' men as ole
+as I be don't repent easy. It's when ye're young
+an' squshy that you repents. But these two cubs o'
+mine," and he eyed his boys with determination, "has
+got to give up evil ways right off. Ye've got to go
+to school, sons, an' learn somethin', an' quit poachin',
+an' hevin' the law hangin' over ye all the time."</p>
+
+<p>The boys looked ugly and rebellious, and, perceiving
+it, he went on. "Come now, none o' that;
+when ye're respectable, hard-workin' men ye'll be
+ashamed o' your father, an' that'll be my punishment
+if I don't get out o' this. An' you needn't
+kick, 'cause I'll lick ye all to splinters if I ketches
+one o' you in the woods this spring. Ye've got to
+turn right round."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll turn right round an' come back," said
+Zebedee, bitterly and furiously.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas got up, took him by the coat collar, and,
+without a word, led him outside the cabin.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later they returned&mdash;both flushed&mdash;Lucas
+grim and determined, and Zebedee sulky
+and conquered.</p>
+
+<p>"Air you also cravin' for an argyment?" asked
+Lucas, ironically, of Joe.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm cravin' to lick you," said the boy, bursting
+out into a wild raving and swearing at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Swearin' when there is ladies present," said his
+father, seizing him by the shoulder, and dragging
+him the way his brother had gone.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane stopped eating, and sat miserably with
+downcast eyes. She felt dimly that she had made
+trouble in this family, and brought additional misfortune
+upon herself, for what kind of escorts would
+these whipped boys be?</p>
+
+<p>Lucas's tussle with Joe was a longer one than the
+former with Zebedee had been, and not until after
+some time did he return. Joe hung about outside
+for an hour, then he came in, shaking and stamping
+the snow from him, and, as if nothing had happened,
+sat down and finished his breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>Lucas, meanwhile, had been making preparations
+for his long tramp. 'Tilda Jane watched him with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+interest as he took a sack, tied a potato in each
+corner, and proceeded to fill it with parcels of provisions.</p>
+
+<p>When at last he sat down, took off his cow-hide
+moccasins, and began to tie on soft moose moccasins,
+fit for snow-shoeing, he addressed his two
+boys.</p>
+
+<p>"When parients tell their children things air to
+be did, they ought to be did. When the children
+raves an' tears, they ought to be licked, an' when
+the lickin's over, the reasons come. Air you
+sighin' either o' ye to see the inside o' State's
+prison? Air you, Zebedee?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," said the boy, shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"Air you, Joe?"</p>
+
+<p>Joe, with his mouth full of beans, replied that
+he was not.</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, that's where you'll land if ye don't quit
+breakin' State's law. Ye ain't either o' ye as clever
+as I be, but I've got to try to give it up, too. I've
+bin feelin' that ye'd git caught some day, and I've
+made up my mind, an' I'll hold it to my dyin' day.
+I'm goin' to crowd ye out o' this risky game. If I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
+ketch one o' you after deer agin, I'll give ye up to
+the warden myself. I swan I will," and he brought
+his hand down energetically on the table. "Now
+you go home an' go to school with smart boys an'
+gals till summer vacation, then ye can tell me
+what ye think of it. I'll not pretend I'll let ye out
+of it if ye don't like it, but I guess ye will. Ye've
+bin to school before an' made good progress, an' I
+asks yer pardon for takin' ye out."</p>
+
+<p>Zebedee listened in quiet resentfulness, but Joe,
+who possessed a more volatile disposition, and who
+having satisfied his hunger was comparatively good-natured,
+remarked, "What'll ye do about Poacher,
+pop?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucas's face darkened suddenly, and unhappily.</p>
+
+<p>"Come here, ole boy," he said, and when the dog
+went to him, he bowed his head for a minute over
+him. "We've bin good friends&mdash;me an' you.
+Many's the trap I've led ye in, an' many a time
+my heart would 'a' bin sore if ye'd a bin caught.
+An' now, 'count o' my transgression, ye're a wanderin'
+sheep. Ye'll never git back in the fold agin
+unless some good sheep leads ye."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There's somethin' you can't make over," said
+Zebedee, briefly. "He'll chase deer as long as he
+kin wag a leg."</p>
+
+<p>"Leetle gal," said Lucas, suddenly, "would ye
+like to hev this dog?"</p>
+
+<p>"To have him&mdash;that beauty dog!" 'Tilda Jane
+gasped, confusedly. "Oh, sir, you'd never give him
+away."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd most as soon give a child away," said Lucas,
+"an' I'd never do it, if it warn't for his habits.
+Ye're a-goin' to Ciscasset, which is somethin' of a
+place, an' a ways from the woods. An' ye'll pet him
+an' kinder cherish him, an' keep him from frettin' an'
+bein' lonely. My ole woman don't set much store
+by dogs, an' when I'm workin' in the tannery he's
+off doggin' deer by himself. He's nearly got shot
+dead. See those ripples in his back? That's
+where he's bin grazed. Poacher, ole boy, you've
+got to go with this leetle gal, if she'll hev you."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane hesitated, stammered, looked into the
+dog's anxious face, and the boys' protesting ones,
+and said at last, "But the ole man where I'm goin',
+mebbe he'll breach at my havin' two dogs."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Prob'bly he will," said Lucas, "but you crowd
+right up to him. Folks is queer 'bout dogs. Them
+as don't like 'em don't want to give 'em standin'
+room on this airth, but you walk right up to 'em an'
+say, 'This dog has as good a right to a place on
+God's footstool as you hev, an' I'm goin' to see he
+gits it. If you was more like a dog yerself, ye'd be
+more thought of, ye cross-grained, cranky ole skillingsby'&mdash;come
+you, sons, quit that scowlin'. Do
+ye know why I'm givin' that dog to the little gal
+stid o' you?"</p>
+
+<p>They uttered a brief negative.</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause she knows dog language," said Lucas,
+dropping his voice to a whisper, and looking mysteriously
+over his shoulder, "an' if there was a deer
+here, you'd find she knowed deer talk. You, sons,
+is fond o' dogs, but not in the style the leetle gal is,
+or I be. It's a kind o' smartness at gettin' inside
+the animal's skin. He don't verily talk. Ye jist
+understan' him without talk&mdash;leetle gal, what's
+Poacher sayin' now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he don't want to go with me," burst out
+'Tilda Jane, with energy. "He's a sick dog. Look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>
+at his eyes an' his droopin' ears. He don't want you
+to give him away. He don't want me to take him.
+Oh, I can't!" and she buried her face in her hands
+as if to hide temptation from her.</p>
+
+<p>"He's got to go," said Lucas, stroking Poacher's
+head, "an' mind me, dog," and he put his hand
+under the dog's jaws and lifted them so that he could
+look in his eyes, "no runnin' away from Ciscasset.
+Ye stay with that leetle gal. Don't ye come chasin'
+round here, 'cause if ye do, I'll turn my back on ye
+for a runaway, an' ye'll feel worse'n ye do now when
+we part on speakin' terms. Say, is it a bargain, ole
+feller? Call him, leetle gal."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was overawed by Lucas's determined
+manner, and dropping her hands she ejaculated
+feebly, "Here, Poacher, Poacher!"</p>
+
+<p>The dog looked at her, then pressed closer to
+his master, whereupon Lucas seized a stick by the
+fireplace, and struck him sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Poacher turned his large brown eyes on him in
+one despairing, reproachful glance, then with
+drooping head sauntered across the room to the
+boys.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Call him," said Lucas to 'Tilda Jane. "Speak
+up as if ye knew he was your dog."</p>
+
+<p>"Poacher," she said, in a firm voice, "come here.
+You're mos' as unhappy as I be&mdash;we'll be unhappy
+together."</p>
+
+<p>The suffering animal moved slowly toward her,
+and laid his head on her lap.</p>
+
+<p>There were tears in his eyes, and the little girl
+groaned as she wiped them away.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">FAREWELL TO THE POACHERS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Lucas was ready to start, and 'Tilda Jane and the
+boys stood in the doorway watching him tie on his
+snow-shoes.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, sons," he said, straightening himself up and
+drawing on his woollen mittens, "I'm goin' one way
+an' you another, but if ye act contrairy an' pouty to
+that leetle gal, I'll know it, for she's goin' to write
+me, an' if there's any complaint, there'll be such
+a wallopin' as these ones this mornin' would be a
+shadder an' a dream to."</p>
+
+<p>His lecture over, he looked over his shoulder and
+narrowly inspected the faces of his two boys. They
+were reserved, almost expressionless. It might be a
+month before he saw them again. He forgot 'Tilda
+Jane for an instant, "Sons&mdash;ye know yer pop loves
+ye, don't ye?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>His tone had suddenly changed, and the two big
+boys ran to him as if they still were children. "Pop,
+can't we come back after we take her out?" they
+exclaimed, with backward jerks of their heads toward
+'Tilda Jane. Their hands were on his arms, and
+they were roughly fondling his shoulders&mdash;these
+two unmannerly cubs of his.</p>
+
+<p>"Sons," he said, in a broken voice, "I ain't been
+a good father to ye. I've got to spend the last o'
+my life in rootin' up the weeds I sowed the fust
+part. I don't want you to have such a crop. Now
+you go 'long out an' be good sons. Your mother'll
+be sot up, an' you mind what she says, an' I'll soon
+come home. Take good care o' the leetle gal," and
+passing his hand, first over one brown head, then
+over the other, he tramped away out of view among
+the snowy spruces.</p>
+
+<p>The boys and 'Tilda Jane went back into the
+cabin. The two former sat together by the fire and
+talked, taking little notice of her. All their friendliness
+of the evening before was gone, yet they were
+not openly unkind, but simply neglectful. Toward
+noon the snow ceased falling, as Lucas had pre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>dicted,
+the sun came out brilliantly, and they began
+making preparations for departure.</p>
+
+<p>Zebedee was to wear an old pair of snow-shoes
+that had been left in the cabin, and 'Tilda Jane was
+to put on his new ones. Her humility and unselfishness
+slightly thawed the boys' reserve, and when
+they at last started, her ridiculous attempts at snow-shoeing
+threw them into fits of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>Zebedee carried the infirm Gippie, who otherwise
+would have sunk to his neck in the snow, Poacher
+soberly plunged his way along, while Joe assisted
+'Tilda Jane in keeping her equilibrium. After an
+hour's travel, she had become quite expert in the
+art of taking wide steps, and no longer needed his
+helping hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Air we mos' there?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"In the span of another hour and a half," said
+Joe.</p>
+
+<p>The hour and a half went by. They tramped on
+under the serene blue of the sky, and in such a
+solemn stillness that it seemed as if never a bird nor
+beast could have inhabited this white wilderness.
+Only the voiceless, silent trees were there, clad all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
+in white like ghosts of departed living things. But
+at last their winding way through the wood came
+to an end, and they stepped out on the old road.
+Here were evidences of travel. A few teams had
+passed by, and there were snow-shoe tracks alongside
+those of the sleigh runners.</p>
+
+<p>The trees also grew more sparsely, and soon gave
+place to clearings, then the distant roof of a barn
+appeared, and finally a long, thin string of small
+farmhouses winding down a bleak road before them.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this your home?" asked 'Tilda Jane, of the
+boys.</p>
+
+<p>"Nop," answered Joe, "we live off'n that way,"
+and he pointed down a road to the left. "But we've
+got to take you here to the Mercers', pop said."</p>
+
+<p>He drew up before the first in the string of
+houses,&mdash;a poor enough place, and unspeakably
+chilling in its deathly whiteness. A tiny white
+house, a white barn, a white fence, a white cow in
+the yard,&mdash;white snow over everything.</p>
+
+<p>"Looks as if they'd all died an' gone to heaven,"
+thought 'Tilda Jane, with a shiver.</p>
+
+<p>"Hole on," said Joe. "I'll run ahead an' see if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
+the folks is home. Ain't no smoke cornin' out o'
+the chimney."</p>
+
+<p>He swung open the gate, hurried in, pounded at
+the front door, pounded at the back door, and
+finally returned. "Guess there mus' be a funeral
+or somethin'&mdash;all off, anyway. What'll we do,
+Zeb?"</p>
+
+<p>Zebedee shrugged his shoulders. "S'pose we go
+nex' door?"</p>
+
+<p>"But them's the Folcutts," objected Joe.</p>
+
+<p>"S'pose they be."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Guess they kin drive as well as Mercer's folks."</p>
+
+<p>"What would pop say?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's nearer than the nex' house."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm kind o' tired," said 'Tilda Jane, politely and
+faintly. "Just drop me, an' you go back. I'll find
+some one."</p>
+
+<p>"Nop," said Joe, firmly, "we promised pop."</p>
+
+<p>"Come on," said Zebedee, "let's try the Folcutts."</p>
+
+<p>They went slowly on to the next blot on the
+landscape,&mdash;this one, a low-roofed, red house with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+untidy windows, and a feeble, wavering line of smoke
+rising from the kitchen chimney.</p>
+
+<p>They all went around to the back door, and, in
+response to their knock a slatternly woman appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"What you want, boys?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pop says will you take this gal to Nicatoos
+station?" asked Joe. "He'll square up with you
+when he comes out."</p>
+
+<p>The woman looked 'Tilda Jane all over. "The
+roads is main heavy."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane leaned up against the door-post, and
+the woman relented. "I guess it won't kill our
+hoss," she remarked. "Is it the seven o'clocker
+you want?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane appealed to the boys.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, m'am," responded Joe, promptly.</p>
+
+<p>"Needn't start for an hour yit. Come on in,
+boys."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess we'll be goin' on home," said Zebedee.</p>
+
+<p>Joe, for some reason or other, seemed reluctant to
+leave 'Tilda Jane. He carefully lifted Gippie to a
+resting-place by the kitchen stove, untied 'Tilda
+Jane's snow-shoes and strapped them on his back,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
+stroked Poacher repeatedly, and finally with a hearty
+"So long, little gal, let's hear from you," he made
+her an awkward bob of his head and ran after his
+brother, who had reached the road.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane drew up to the stove, and, while she
+sat drying her dress, looked about her. What a
+dirty kitchen! The log cabin she had just left
+was neatness itself compared with this place. Pots
+and pans were heaped in a corner of the room,
+the table was littered with soiled dishes, the
+woman herself was unkempt, frowsy, and dispirited
+in appearance.</p>
+
+<p>She was also cunning, for, while she seized a
+broom and stirred about the accumulation of dust
+on the floor, she inspected the little girl with curious,
+furtive glances.</p>
+
+<p>"You bin stoppin' with the Lucases?" she asked,
+at last.</p>
+
+<p>She had opened the door, and while she looked
+one way she carelessly tried to sweep in another way
+the pile of rubbish she had collected.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, m'am," said 'Tilda Jane, wearily.</p>
+
+<p>"How's Mis' Lucas?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane paused to gaze out the open door. Why
+did not the woman shut it? And why, when it was
+so pure and clean without, did she not feel ashamed
+to keep so dull and untidy a house? If it were summer-time,
+and the ground were brown and green, this
+dun-coloured room would not be so bad, but now&mdash;the
+contrast made her sick.</p>
+
+<p>"How's Mis' Lucas?" repeated her hostess, in a
+dull voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," replied 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Folcutt poised herself on her broom and with
+rustic deliberation weighed the statement just made.
+Then she said, "She ain't gone away?"</p>
+
+<p>"I dunno," said 'Tilda Jane, "I never see her in
+my life."</p>
+
+<p>Here was a puzzle, and Mrs. Folcutt pondered
+over it in silence, until the draught of chilly air made
+her remember to close the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Are we to start soon?" inquired 'Tilda Jane,
+after a time.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't a-goin' to take you," said her hostess, unamiably,
+"it's Uzziah&mdash;Uzziah!" and she went to
+an open stairway leading from the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What cher want?" came back, in an impatient
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"You're wanted. Passenger for the station."</p>
+
+<p>A boy speedily appeared. 'Tilda Jane was not
+prepossessed in his favour as he came lumbering down
+the staircase, and she was still less so when he stood
+before her. He had his mother's sharp face, lean
+head, and cunning eyes, and he was so alarmingly
+dirty that she found herself wondering whether he
+had ever touched water to his face and hands since
+the winter began.</p>
+
+<p>"Go hitch up an' take this gal to the station," said
+his mother, in feeble command.</p>
+
+<p>He stood scrutinising 'Tilda Jane. "Who fur?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bob Lucas."</p>
+
+<p>"How much'll he gimme?"</p>
+
+<p>"I dunno. He'll pay when he comes out."</p>
+
+<p>"S'pose the warden ketches him?"</p>
+
+<p>"He ain't bin ketched yit."</p>
+
+<p>"He's goin' to&mdash;so they say at the post-office."</p>
+
+<p>"I've got fifty cents," said 'Tilda Jane, with
+dignity. "Here it is," and she laid it on the
+table.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The youthful fox snatched at it, and grinned at
+his mother as he pocketed it.</p>
+
+<p>"Say&mdash;that ain't fair," remarked 'Tilda Jane.
+"You ain't kerried me yet."</p>
+
+<p>"She's right," said the more mature fox. "Give
+it back, Uzzy."</p>
+
+<p>Uzziah unwillingly restored the coin to 'Tilda
+Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Now go hitch up," said his mother.</p>
+
+<p>He sidled out of the room and disappeared, and
+Mrs. Folcutt's covetous eye wandered over 'Tilda
+Jane's wearing apparel. "Say, sissy, that's a pooty
+fair shawl you took off'n your dog. I always favour
+stripes."</p>
+
+<p>"So do I," replied 'Tilda Jane, and, with a premonition
+of what was coming, she turned her head
+and gazed out the window.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you might as well square up with us,"
+said the slatternly woman, seating herself near her
+caller and speaking in' persuasive accents, "and then
+you'll not hev to be beholden to Bob Lucas. It's
+jus' as well for a nice little gal like you to hev no
+dealin's with them Lucases."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That shawl ain't mine," said 'Tilda Jane,
+sharply.</p>
+
+<p>This statement did not seem worth challenging by
+the woman, for she went on in the same wheedling
+voice, "You'll not hev no call for it on the cars. I
+kin lend you somethin' for the dog to ride down in.
+It's too good for wrappin' him," and she gazed contemptuously
+at Gippie.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane drew in her wandering gaze from the
+window, and fixed it desperately on Poacher, who was
+lying under the stove winking sadly but amiably at
+her. Was no one perfect? Lucas hunted deer, this
+good dog helped him, his boys were naughty, this
+woman was a sloven and a kind of thief, her boy was
+a rogue, and she herself&mdash;'Tilda Jane was a little
+runaway girl. "You can have this tippet," she said,
+sternly. "That shawl's got to be sent back to where
+it comes from."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you stole it, did ye?" said the woman, with
+a sneer. "Well, I guess we kin hitch up for no
+thieves," and she got up and moved deliberately
+toward the door as if she would recall her son.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane's nimble fancy ran over possibilities.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>
+She had fallen among sharpers, she must be as sharp
+as they. Her offensive manner fell from her. "Look
+here," she said, bluntly, "I ain't got one mite o'
+money but that fifty-cent piece. If your boy'll drive
+me to Nicatoos right off, I'll give him that as I said,
+an' I'll send back the shawl by him. But if you don't
+want to do it, speak right up, an' I'll move on to the
+next house, and," she continued boldly as she saw
+consent on the cunning face, "you've got to give me
+somethin' to eat an' drink with it, 'cause I've got two
+dogs to take care of, an' I don't want to get to Ciscasset
+and tumble over from bein' fainty."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Folcutt's gray face became illumined by a
+silly smile. There was not a shawl like that in the
+settlement, and bustling to her feet, she stroked it
+and felt it with admiring fingers, until admonished
+by 'Tilda Jane that time was passing, and if she
+was going to get her anything to eat she had better
+be quick about it.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl almost choked over the sloppy tea
+from the venerable teapot, the shady bread and
+butter, and the composite dish of preserves set
+before her, yet resolutely shutting her eyes she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+ate and drank, and forced Gippie to do the same.
+Poacher would touch nothing. "Don't ye know
+them huntin' dogs eats <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'only onct a day'">only once a day</ins>?" said Mrs.
+Folcutt, contemptuously.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XIII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">AN ATTEMPTED TRICK.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>"How fur are we from Nicatoos?" inquired
+'Tilda Jane of her charioteer one hour later.</p>
+
+<p>"A matter of a mile," he replied, beating his
+disengaged hand upon his knees. He was sulky
+and cold, and 'Tilda Jane averted her glance from
+him to his small brown nag, who was trotting along
+as cheerfully as if there were a reward at the end
+of the drive for him.</p>
+
+<p>He was a curious little horse. Surely there
+never before was one with such a heavy coat of hair.
+He looked like a wild animal, and with gladness
+of heart she noted his fat sides. The Folcutts
+might be mean and untidy, but they certainly were
+good to this faithful friend, and her mind went off
+in puzzled reflection.</p>
+
+<p>She was pursuing the same line of thought of
+an hour before. No one was perfect, yet no one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+was wholly bad. There was good in everybody and
+everything. Poacher was a bad dog in some respects,
+and she cast a glance at him as he came
+trotting sleek and thoughtful behind the sleigh, but
+what a noble character he was in other respects!
+Gippie was a crank, and she pressed closer the
+small animal beside her, but he had his good points,
+and he was certainly a great comfort to her.</p>
+
+<p>Her heart was much lighter now that she was
+drawing nearer to the train that was to take her to
+Ciscasset, and in raising her little, weary head gratefully
+to the sky, she noted in quick and acute
+appreciation an unusually beautiful sunset. The
+colours were subdued&mdash;the sky was as hard and
+as cold as steel, but how clear, how brilliantly clear
+and calm! She would have fine weather for her
+arrival in her new home.</p>
+
+<p>She was glad that she was not to stay here. She
+felt herself quite a travelled orphan now, and somewhat
+disdainfully classed this rough settlement as
+"back-woodsy." The houses were uninviting and
+far apart, the roads and yards were desolate. The
+men were in the woods, the women and children<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
+were inside huddling around the fires. Middle Marsden
+was a quiet place, but it had not seemed as
+much out of the world as this. She hoped Ciscasset
+would be cheerful. Her travels had given her a
+liking for meeting new faces, and for enjoying some
+slight excitement. Not as much as she had had
+during the last few days&mdash;no, not as much as that.
+It was too trying for her, and she smiled faintly as
+she called up her last vision of her little careworn
+face in the cracked looking-glass in the log cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" she asked, abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>The sleigh had come to a sudden standstill, and
+the boy was holding the lines in dogged silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you drive on?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you jus' looky here," he replied, in a rough
+and bullying tone. "I ain't a-goin' one step furder.
+I'm mos' froze, an' the station's right ahead. You
+foller yer nose a spell, an' you'll git thar. Gimme
+the shawl an' the fifty cents, an' git out."</p>
+
+<p>For one moment 'Tilda Jane sat in blank amazement.
+Then she looked from his dirty, obstinate
+face to the plump pony. The latter showed no
+signs of fatigue. He could go for miles yet. If he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
+had made a plea for the harness, she would not have
+so much wondered, for it was patched and mended
+with rope in a dozen places.</p>
+
+<p>Then her blood slowly reached boiling-point.
+She had stood a good deal from these Folcutts.
+The shawl was worth five dollars. That she knew,
+for she remembered hearing the matron tell how
+much it had cost her. She had overpaid them for
+this drive, and she was not prepared to flounder
+on through the snow and perhaps miss her train.</p>
+
+<p>Her mind, fertile in resources, speedily hit upon
+something. She must get this bully out of the
+sleigh, and she fixed him with a glance more determined
+than his own. He had on a rough homespun
+suit of clothes, and a home-made cap to match it.
+This cap was pulled tightly over his ears, but it was
+not on tight enough to resist 'Tilda Jane's quick
+and angry fingers.</p>
+
+<p>Plucking it off, she threw it over a snake fence
+into a snow-bank, saying at the same time, "If
+you're goin' to turn me out, I'll turn you out first."</p>
+
+<p>The boy was furious, but the cold wind smote
+his head, and, postponing retaliation, he sprang first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
+for his cap, shouting warningly, however, as he
+swung his leg over the fence, "I'll make you pay
+up for this, you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane neither heard nor cared for the offensive
+epithet applied to her. With feet firmly braced,
+both hands grasping the lines, Gippie beside her, and
+Poacher racing behind, she was sweeping down the
+road. She had never driven a horse before in her
+life, but she adored new experiences, and she had
+carefully watched every motion of the young lout
+beside her.</p>
+
+<p>He could scarcely believe his eyes. He gaped
+speechless for a few minutes, for the sound of the
+sleigh-bells had made him turn sharply as he was
+picking up his cap. Then he restored the covering
+to his head, ran to the fence, and bawled, helplessly,
+"Stop thar&mdash;stop! Stop!"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was skimming gaily around a turn in
+the road toward the sunset. He thought he heard
+a jeering laugh from her, but he was mistaken.
+Having got what she wanted, she was going obliviously
+on her way. The boy had been an obstacle,
+and she had brushed him aside.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p168" id="p168"></a>
+<img src="images/p168.jpg" width="550" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'STOP THAR&mdash;STOP! STOP!'"</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>With his slower brain he was forced to pause and
+deliberate. Had she stolen their rig? Stupid as he
+was, the conviction forced itself upon him that she
+had not. She could not take the rig on the train,
+anyway, and plucking up courage, and shivering in
+the cold that had seized upon him during his deliberations,
+he meditatively and angrily began to plod
+over the route that he had recommended to her.</p>
+
+<p>Three-quarters of an hour later, he drew into the
+station yard. The train had come and gone, and his
+eager eyes went to the pony tied safe and sound
+under the shed, with not only the lap-robe over his
+back, but also the striped shawl&mdash;the first and last
+time that he would have the pleasure of wearing it.</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of the bells when he turned the
+sleigh, the telegraph operator came to the station
+door. "Here's fifty cents for you, left by a black-eyed
+girl."</p>
+
+<p>Without a "thank you," the boy held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you don't like that black-eyed girl much,"
+said the young man, teasingly.</p>
+
+<p>"She's a&mdash;" and the boy broke into an oath.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up!" said the young man, with a darkening<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
+face. Then with some curiosity he went on, "What
+did she do to make you talk like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Spilt me out," replied the boy, with another
+volley of bad language.</p>
+
+<p>"You young hound," said the man, witheringly,
+"if she spilt you out, I'll bet you deserved it. I'll
+not touch your dirty hand. If you want your money,
+go find it," and throwing the fifty cents in a snow-drift,
+he went back into the warm station and slammed
+the door behind him.</p>
+
+<p>Uzziah's troubles were not over, and he had still
+to learn that the way of the transgressor is a tiresome
+one. He fumbled desperately in the snow, for
+he wanted fifty cents above all things in the world
+just then, but he was destined not to find it; and at
+last, cold, weary, and yet with all his faults not
+inclined to wreak his wrath on the pony who stood
+patiently watching him, he threw himself into the
+sleigh and sped gloomily homeward. His mother
+had the shawl, but he had nothing for his trouble,
+for he counted as nothing and worse than nothing
+his experience of the maxim that one sly trick
+inspires another.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XIV.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">HOME, SWEET HOME.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was in a quandary. She had boarded
+the train for Ciscasset, she sat up very straight and
+apparently very composed&mdash;her outward demeanour
+gave not a hint of the turmoil within. In reality
+she was full of trouble. She had not a cent of
+money in her pocket, and her new familiarity with
+the workings of the Maine Central Railway assured
+her that it did not carry passengers for nothing.</p>
+
+<p>What was she to do? She pulled the little tippet
+more closely around Gippie's shoulders. She had
+taken it from her own, for it was absolutely necessary
+for him to have another covering now that the
+shawl was gone. Perhaps he would be taken away
+from her. She had noticed that it was not a customary
+thing for people to travel with dogs. His
+head and tail were plainly visible&mdash;this tippet was
+not like the voluminous shawl.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Lucas had not offered her money, and she had not
+liked to ask him for it. Perhaps he had not thought
+about it. Perhaps if he did think of it, he supposed
+that he was doing enough to get her to Nicatoos&mdash;and
+there was the conductor entering the other end
+of the car. She must do something, and deliberately
+rising from her seat, she slipped Gippie under
+her arm, and made her way out to the platform of
+the fast moving train.</p>
+
+<p>It was quite dark now. She gave one side glance
+at the white, silent country they were passing
+through, then stepped into the lighted car ahead.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a smoking-car, young girl," observed
+some one, haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane had dropped into the first seat she
+came to, which happened to be beside a very stout
+and very dignified gentleman who had a cigar in his
+mouth, and who was reading a newspaper.</p>
+
+<p>She looked round, saw that there were a number
+of men in the car&mdash;no women, no children, and that
+the atmosphere was a hazy blue.</p>
+
+<p>"Smoke don't bother me," she said, almost scornfully.
+What was a breath of smoke compared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>
+with her inward discomposure over her pecuniary
+difficulties?</p>
+
+<p>"I'm in a little trouble," she said, brusquely, "I
+ain't got money to buy a ticket."</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman gazed at her suspiciously. "I
+have no money for beggars," he said, and he turned
+his broad back squarely on her.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane, for one so obstinate, was strangely
+sensitive. With her face in a flame of colour, she
+rose. Had any one else heard the insult? No, not
+a man in the car was looking her way.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a poor little girl," she breathed over the
+gentleman's substantial shoulder, "but I'm no beggar.
+I guess I work as hard as you do. I wanted
+you to lend me a dollar or so to be sent back in a
+letter, but I wouldn't take it now&mdash;no, not if you
+crawled after me on your hands an' knees like a dog
+holdin' it in your mouth," and precipitately leaving
+him, she sauntered down the aisle.</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman turned around, and with an amazed
+face gazed after her. Stay&mdash;there she was pausing
+by the seat in which was his son. Should he warn
+him against the youthful adventuress? No, he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
+old enough to take care of himself, and he settled
+back in his corner and devoted himself to his
+paper.</p>
+
+<p>The only person in the last seat in the car was a
+lad of seventeen or eighteen who was neither reading
+nor smoking, but lounging across it, while he
+suppressed innumerable yawns. He was very handsome,
+and he looked lazy and good-natured, and to
+him 'Tilda Jane accordingly addressed herself. She
+had hesitated, after the rebuff she had received, to
+apply to any of those other men with their resolved,
+middle-aged or elderly faces. This lad she was not
+at all afraid of, and resting Gippie on the arm of his
+seat, she stared admiringly at him.</p>
+
+<p>He straightened himself. Here was something
+interesting, and his yawns ceased.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, miss, what can I do for you?" he inquired,
+mischievously, as she continued to stare at him without
+speaking.</p>
+
+<p>He would lend her the money, she knew it before
+she asked him. There was something else in her
+mind now, and her little sharp eyes were full of
+tears.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Is anything the matter with you?" he asked,
+politely.</p>
+
+<p>She could not answer him for a few seconds,
+but then she swallowed the lump in her throat
+and ejaculated, "No, sir, only you are so pretty."</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty!" he repeated, in bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said in low, passionate, almost resentful
+tones, "you ain't got no 'casion for those blue
+eyes an' that yeller hair. I wish I could take 'em
+away from you. I'd 'a' been 'dopted if I had 'em.
+I wouldn't be standin' here."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you sit down?" he asked, courteously,
+and with a flattered air. He was very
+young, and to have a strange child melt into
+tears at the sight of his handsome face was a compliment
+calculated to touch even an older heart
+than his.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane, with a heavy sigh, seated herself
+beside him. "I'm kind o' put out," she said,
+languidly, "you must s'cuse me."</p>
+
+<p>After her interest in him, he could do nothing
+less than murmur a civil inquiry as to the cause of
+her concern.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I've been tryin' to borrer money," she replied,
+"an' I was 'sulted."</p>
+
+<p>"To borrow money&mdash;then you are short of
+funds?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," she said, calmly, "I'm a-travellin', but
+I ain't got no money to pay for me nor for this dog,
+an' his head an' tail shows this time, an' he'll be
+nabbed."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?" asked the lad.</p>
+
+<p>"To Ciscasset, sir, if I ever get there. I'm
+beginnin' to think there ain't no such place."</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you there is, for I live in it myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you?" she ejaculated, with a flash of interest.
+"Do you know a man by the name of Hobart
+Dillson?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather&mdash;he was my father's bookkeeper for
+years. We pension him now," he added, grandly,
+and with a wish to impress.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was not impressed, for she did not
+know what a pension was.</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of a feller is he?" she asked, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a sort of tiger&mdash;might be in a cage, you
+know, but we haven't got one big enough."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You mean he gets mad easy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never gets un-mad. Always stays so. Is a
+regular joke, you know. Going to visit him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm goin' to be his housekeeper," said 'Tilda
+Jane, with dignity.</p>
+
+<p>The lad cast a rapid and amused glance over her
+small resolved figure, then taking his handkerchief
+from his pocket, turned his face to the window, and
+coughed vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>"I can fight, too," she added, after a pause, "but&mdash;"
+slowly, "I sha'n't fight him."</p>
+
+<p>The lad did not turn around except to throw her
+one gleam from the corner of a laughing eye, until
+she ejaculated uneasily, "There comes the conductor&mdash;are
+you a-goin' to lend me some money?"</p>
+
+<p>His face reappeared&mdash;quite sober now. "Well,
+young lady, I am not a capitalist, but I think I can
+raise you a loan. How much do you want&mdash;that
+is, where did you come on?"</p>
+
+<p>"I come on at Nicatoos, an' I've another dog in
+the baggage-car."</p>
+
+<p>"Travelling with two dogs," he murmured, "and
+short of funds. You have courage!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I like some animiles better'n some people,"
+observed 'Tilda Jane, sententiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Your sentiment does you credit," he replied,
+gravely, and as the conductor approached, he held
+out his hand. "I pay for this little girl and her
+dog in the baggage-car."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a fine hound you've got," the conductor
+observed, civilly, to 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," she replied, meekly. "I hope he
+ain't scared o' the train."</p>
+
+<p>"He don't like it much, but some of the boys
+have been playing with him. Why&mdash;" and he
+drew back in surprise, "you're the obstinate young
+one I pointed out to the inspector the other day.
+Here&mdash;you needn't pay," and he put in her hand
+the money her new friend had just given him.
+"There was a great racket about you. You needn't
+have run away from Vanceboro&mdash;if you'd spoken
+the truth, you'd saved yourself and us a lot of
+trouble. However, I guess they'll be glad to hear
+you're all right."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be 'bliged if you'll give my respecks to
+Mr. Jack," she said, steadily.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'll do it," said the conductor, "and tell him
+you've picked up another dog," and with a wink at
+her companion, he passed on.</p>
+
+<p>"Accep' my thanks," she said, after a time, handing
+the loose change in her lap to the lad.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep it," he replied, generously. "I don't want
+it."</p>
+
+<p>A grim flash like a streak of lightning passed over
+her dark face, and he added, hastily, "As a loan, of
+course. You may need money for your dogs. Old
+Hobart will begrudge them a bone, I assure you."</p>
+
+<p>She thanked him, and thoughtfully tied the money
+in a corner of her handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>"Now if his son were home, he would be different.
+Hank is a rattling, good-natured sort of a fellow.
+No principle, you know, but not a tiger by any
+means."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll thank you, sir, to keep a stiff tongue when
+you're talkin' of Hank Dillson," observed 'Tilda
+Jane, severely. "He's done me favours, an' you'd
+better keep your tongue off his father, too. If you're
+dyin' to pitch into some one, pitch into that selfish
+ole tub a-readin' that big paper up there. He turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
+his back on me when I hinted round him for the
+loan of a dollar or so."</p>
+
+<p>"And I'll thank you to keep a stiff tongue when
+you speak of that gentleman," said the lad, smartly,
+"for he's my father."</p>
+
+<p>"Your father!" echoed 'Tilda Jane, in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: 'onct have blue eyes'">once have blue eyes</ins> an' curly hair?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe so. He's a good-looking man yet."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a&mdash;" began 'Tilda Jane, hurriedly, then
+she stopped short. "Law me&mdash;I'll never learn to
+forgive folks before the sun goes down; I'm gettin'
+wickeder an' wickeder. What's your name, sir?
+I'll want to send you this money soon's I earn
+some."</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Datus Waysmith, and my father is
+the biggest lumber merchant on the Ciscasset
+River."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he?" she said, wistfully, "an' have you got
+more family?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have a mother as pretty as a picture, and
+three sisters."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"An' you have a nice room with a fire that ain't
+boxed up, an' you sit round, an' no other folks come
+in, an' no bells ring for you to get up and do somethin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"We have loads of rooms in our house," said the
+lad, boastfully. "It's the biggest one in Ciscasset.
+You'll soon find out where we live. Here we are
+most in&mdash;Iceboro next, then home," and he flattened
+his face against the glass.</p>
+
+<p>Outside in the dark night, bright lights appeared,
+danced over the snowy country, then disappeared.
+The train was running through the outskirts of a
+prosperous town.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Ciscasset a nice place?" asked 'Tilda Jane,
+wistfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Slowest old place that ever was. I'd like to live
+in Bangor or Portland. There's something going on
+there. We've nothing but a river, and mills, and
+trees, and hills&mdash;not a decent theatre in the place."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane did not know what a theatre was, and
+discreetly held her peace.</p>
+
+<p>"I say&mdash;here we are!" exclaimed the boy. "I
+hope mamma will have a good supper."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A shadow overspread 'Tilda Jane's face, and seeing
+it, the boy said, impulsively, "Stop here a minute&mdash;I
+want to speak to papa," and he rushed away.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl sat still. They were going more
+slowly now, and all the men in the car were standing
+up, putting on coats and warm caps. She had no
+wrap, but her dress was thick, and hugging Gippie
+closer, she felt that she should not suffer from the
+cold.</p>
+
+<p>The boy was making an animated appeal to his
+father, who was asking him short, quick questions.
+At last he gave him a brief, "Very well!" and the
+boy ran back to 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa says you can ride with us. I told him you
+had no one to meet you, and it would be cold comfort
+wandering about alone to find your way. He
+used to think a lot of Dillson, but you'd better not
+talk to him."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane trailed slowly after her guide through
+the crowd of people leaving the train, and passing
+through the lighted stone station to the yard outside.
+Here were drawn up a number of sleighs.
+The boy led her to the handsomest one.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Jump up on the box with Jenks," he said in a
+whisper. "Curl down under the rug, and I'll bring
+dog number two. He'll run behind, won't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess so," replied 'Tilda Jane, with an equally
+mysterious whisper, and she slipped down under the
+soft bearskin robe.</p>
+
+<p>In two minutes the boy came back, leading
+Poacher by a small rope. "I'll just tie him behind,"
+he said, "to make sure. He's all right&mdash;and
+here's papa."</p>
+
+<p>He stood aside, while his dignified parent got into
+the sleigh. 'Tilda Jane, from her high seat, looked
+around once. The lumber merchant and his son
+were down in a black valley of soft, smothering furs,
+Poacher was running agreeably behind, and Gippie
+was snug and warm in her lap.</p>
+
+<p>No one spoke during the drive, and they glided
+swiftly through the snowy town. 'Tilda Jane had
+a confused vision of lighted shops with frosty windows,
+of houses with more sober illuminations, then
+suddenly they were stealing along the brink of a
+long and narrow snow-filled hollow. This was the
+Ciscasset River, still held by its winter covering.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+She thought she heard a murmur of "rotten ice"
+behind her as the lumber merchant addressed his
+son, and she was enough a child of the State to
+know that a reference to the breaking up of the ice
+in the river was intended.</p>
+
+<p>Presently they dashed up a long avenue of leafless,
+hardwood trees to a big house on the hill. A hall
+door was thrown open, and within was a glimpse of
+paradise for the homeless orphan. Softly tinted
+lights in the background illuminated and made
+angelically beautiful the white dresses and glowing
+faces of a lady and three little girls who stood on
+the threshold with outstretched arms.</p>
+
+<p>The father and son welcomed to these embraces
+had forgotten 'Tilda Jane, and as the sleigh slowly
+turned and went down the cold avenue, tears
+streamed silently down her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Where am I to take you?" suddenly asked the
+solemn coachman beside her.</p>
+
+<p>"To Hobart Dillson's," she said, in a choking
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing more was said, she saw nothing, heard
+nothing, felt nothing of her immediate surroundings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
+She had once been taken to a circus, and the picture
+now before her mind was that of a tiger pacing back
+and forth in his cage, growling in a low monotonous
+tone, always growling, growling at a miserable child
+shrinking outside.</p>
+
+<p>"That there is Dillson's cottage, I think," said
+the coachman at last.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane roused herself. Through her blurred
+vision a small house wavered at the end of a snowy
+path. She wiped her eyes hastily, thanked the man,
+and, slipping from her high seat, ran behind the
+sleigh and untied Poacher.</p>
+
+<p>The man turned his sleigh and glided slowly out
+of sight. She stood watching him till he disappeared,
+then, followed by her two dogs went reluctantly
+up the path.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XV.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">THE FRENCH FAMILY.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane stood entranced. This was not the
+Dillson cottage, the coachman had made a mistake.
+She stood staring in the window, for this was a sight
+that pleased her above all other sights.</p>
+
+<p>Here was another family,&mdash;a happy family, evidently,
+all gathered around a cheerful fire in a good-sized
+living-room. There were an old grandfather
+in the corner smoking a pipe, an old woman beside
+him with a white cap on her head, a middle-aged
+man cleaning a gun by the light of a lamp on the
+table, a middle-aged woman knitting a stocking, and
+a cluster of children of all ages about the grandfather,
+grandmother, father and mother.</p>
+
+<p>Mingled with the crackling of the open fire was
+a very gay clatter of tongues speaking in some foreign
+language, and one boy's voice soared above the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>
+rest in the words of a song that 'Tilda Jane was
+afterward to learn:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container" lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><div class="poetry">
+<p class="verseq">"<em>Un Canadien errant,</em></p>
+<p class="verse"><em>Bannis de son pays,</em></p>
+<p class="verse"><em>Parconrait en pleurant,</em></p>
+<p class="verse"><em>Un pays étranger.</em>"</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>She gazed at them until the sense of increasing
+cold checked her rapture, and made her move regretfully
+toward the door and rap on it.</p>
+
+<p>It was immediately opened by a brown-eyed child,
+and held far back as if she were expected to enter.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you tell me where Mr. Hobart Dillson
+lives?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ou-ay, ma'mzelle</i>," murmured the child, bashfully
+hanging her head.</p>
+
+<p>"But enter&mdash;it is cold," called the mother, rising
+and coming forward, stocking in hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane felt drawn toward this alluring family
+circle, and one minute later was sitting in a chair
+on its circumference.</p>
+
+<p>"But come in, dawgie," said the mother gently
+to Poacher, who stood hesitating on the threshold.</p>
+
+<p>He came in, and was greeted silently and politely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
+by two respectable curs that rose from the hearth-stone
+for the purpose, then he lay down beside them,
+and gratefully extended his limbs to the fire.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane sat for a minute looking about her
+without speaking. These people were not staring
+at her, but they were all stealing occasional curious
+glances in her direction.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm lookin' for Hobart Dillson's," she said,
+bluntly, "but I guess there ain't no such person,
+for the nearer I get the more he seems to run
+off."</p>
+
+<p>The mother of the family smiled, and 'Tilda Jane
+gazed in admiration at the soft black eyes under
+the firm brows. "I can tell you, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>&mdash;he
+is near by, even nex' doah."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" murmured 'Tilda Jane, then she fell into
+meditation. These people were foreigners, poor,
+too, evidently, though perfectly neat and clean.
+She wondered how they got into the country.</p>
+
+<p>"You air emigrants?" she said, at last, inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"French," said the woman, "'Cajien French&mdash;sent
+from our country long ago. Our people went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+back. We returned to earn a little money. Too
+many people where we lived."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you come through Vanceboro?" asked
+'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>The woman's liquid eyes appealed to her husband.
+He shrugged his shoulders, looked down the barrel
+of his gun, and said, "It is a long time ago we
+come. I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>"Mebbe they weren't so partickler," observed
+'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Let um do!" came in a sepulchral voice from
+the fireplace.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane stared at the old grandfather, who
+had taken his pipe from his mouth to utter the
+phrase, and was now putting it back.</p>
+
+<p>The house-mother addressed her. "Do not fear,
+<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>; it is the only English he knows. He
+means 'all right, do not anxious yourself, be calm,
+very calm.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Does he?" murmured 'Tilda Jane; then she
+added, unwillingly, "I must be going."</p>
+
+<p>"Delay youself yet a leetle," urged the woman,
+and her pitying eyes ran over the girl's drooping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>
+figure. "The children go to make corn hot.
+Marie&mdash;" and a stream of foreign syllables trickled
+and gurgled from her lips, delighting and fascinating
+her caller.</p>
+
+<p>A little maid danced from the fireplace to one
+of the tiny pigeon-hole rooms opening from the
+large one, and presently came back with a bag of
+corn and a popper.</p>
+
+<p>"And a glass of milk for <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>," said the
+woman to another child.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was presently sipping her milk, eating
+a piece of dark brown bread, and gazing dreamily
+at the fire. Why could she not linger in this
+pleasant home.</p>
+
+<p>"You know Mr. Dillson?" she said, rousing
+herself with an effort, and turning to her hostess.</p>
+
+<p>"But yes&mdash;we have lived nex' him for so many
+yeahs."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think I can keep house for him?" asked
+'Tilda Jane, wistfully.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p190" id="p190"></a>
+<img src="images/p190.jpg" width="550" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'YOU ARE YOUNG FOR THAT, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">MADEMOISELLE</i>, YET&mdash;'"</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The woman hesitated, laid her knitting on her
+lap, and thoughtfully smoothed her tweed dress.
+"You are young for that, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mademoiselle</i>, yet&mdash;" and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>she scrutinised 'Tilda Jane's dark, composed, almost
+severe face&mdash;"if a girl could do it, I should think
+yes&mdash;you can. He is seeck, poor man. He walks
+not well at all. It makes him&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Like the evil one," muttered her husband,
+clutching his gun more tightly; "if he was a crow,
+I would shoot."</p>
+
+<p>"Let um do!" came in guttural tones from
+grandfather's corner.</p>
+
+<p>The woman laughed merrily, and all anxiety faded
+from her face. "Hark to <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gran'père</i>&mdash;it makes me
+feel good, so good. No one can make us feel bad
+if we feel not bad ourselves. Deelson is seeck. He
+is not hap-py. Let us not be seeck, too. Let us be
+hap-py. <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Allons mes enfants, est-ce que le</i>&mdash;" and
+then followed more smooth syllables that 'Tilda Jane
+did not understand.</p>
+
+<p>She soon saw, however, that an order had been
+given to butter and salt the corn, and presently she
+was shyly but sweetly offered some by the French
+children. Even Poacher and Gippie had some kernels
+laid before them, and in the midst of her concern
+as to Mr. Dillson's behaviour, her heart swelled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
+with gratitude to think that she should have such
+good neighbours. Here all was gentleness and peace.
+She had never seen so kind a woman, such amiable
+children. Did they ever quarrel and slap each other,
+she wondered.</p>
+
+<p>"It's getting late, ain't it?" she exclaimed at last,
+with uneasiness. "I must go," and she rose quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"But you can stay all night if you desiah," said
+the woman, motioning toward the pigeon-holes.
+"Stay, and go nex' doah in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, I must not," said 'Tilda Jane very hastily,
+through fear that she might yield to so pleasant a
+temptation. "But can I drop in an' see you by
+spells?"</p>
+
+<p>"But yes, yes&mdash;certainly, come often," said the
+woman. "Come at any hour," she said under her
+breath, and seizing 'Tilda Jane's hand in her own,
+"if it is not agreeable there, at any time run here."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm 'bliged to you," said Tilda Jane, gratefully,
+"much 'bliged, an' if you want any floors scrubbed,
+or anythin' done, jus' you run over an' get me. I'll
+come&mdash;" and with a sturdy nod of her head, she
+took her dogs, and slipped out into the darkness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If agreeable leave your dogs here till mornin',"
+called the woman after her.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl shook her head. "I guess he'd
+better see 'em right off. Good-night, an' thank
+you."</p>
+
+<p>The woman clasped her hands, and, looking up at
+the sky before she went into the house, murmured
+in her own language, "Holy One, guard her from
+that terrible rage!"</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XVI.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">THE TIGER IN HIS LAIR.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The next house to that of the French people was
+larger and more pretentious than theirs. It had
+more of a garden, there were two stories instead of
+one, and the roof was surmounted by a tiny tower.</p>
+
+<p>The outside of the tiger's den was highly satisfactory,
+and 'Tilda Jane smiled in weary stoical humour.
+Now to find the particular corner in which
+the tiger himself abode. The house was dark, except
+for one feeble glimmer of light on the ground floor.
+She had rapped at the front door, she had rapped at
+the back door without getting any response, and now
+she returned to the latter to see if perchance it had
+been left unfastened.</p>
+
+<p>It had, and lifting the latch cautiously, she went
+in. She knew Mr. Dillson was an old man, she
+knew he was lame, and possibly he heard her, but
+could not come to her rescue. Passing through a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>
+small porch where she stumbled against some heaped
+up pans, she turned the first door-knob she touched
+in passing her hand around the dark wall.</p>
+
+<p>She found herself in a kitchen. The table in the
+middle of the floor, the chairs, the dresser, were all
+illumined by a feeble, dying glow in a small cooking
+stove, and by the beams of a candle struggling
+through an open door.</p>
+
+<p>Poacher and Gippie crept after her as she proceeded
+slowly in the direction of this light. They
+felt that there was something mysterious afoot.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane paused at the bedroom door. Here
+was the lair of the tiger, and there was the tiger
+himself,&mdash;an old man with white hair, red eyes, and
+a night-cap. A candle was on a shelf by the head
+of the bed, and a pair of crutches was within reaching
+distance, and the old man was lifting his head
+from the pillow in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane could not help laughing aloud in her
+relief. This was not a very dangerous looking person.
+He seemed more amazed than vexed, and she
+laughed again as she noted his clutch of the bed-clothes,
+and the queer poise of his white head.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'Scuse me, sir," she said, humbly, "for comin'
+this time o' night, but I thought you'd like me to
+report first thing. I hope you've heard from your
+son I was comin'?"</p>
+
+<p>The old man said nothing. He was still open-mouthed
+and dumb, but something in his face
+assured 'Tilda Jane that he had heard&mdash;he had
+received some news of her, apart from the telegram
+sent by Mr. Jack.</p>
+
+<p>"I've had lots o' speriences," she said, with a tired
+gesture. "I'll tell 'em some other time. I jus'
+wanted to 'nounce my 'rival, an' tell you I'm goin'
+to wait on you good&mdash;I guess I'll go to bed, if
+you'll tell me where to get a candle, an' where I'm
+to sleep."</p>
+
+<p>He would tell her nothing. He simply lay and
+glared at her, and by no means disposed to seek a
+quarrel with him, she made her way back to the
+kitchen, opened the stove door, and, lighting a piece
+of paper, searched the room until she found the
+closet where the candles were kept.</p>
+
+<p>The old man lay motionless in his bed. He heard
+her searching, heard the dogs pattering after her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>
+and a violent perspiration broke out upon him.
+Wrath sometimes gave him unwonted fluency of
+speech. To-night it rendered him speechless. He
+did not wish this beggar's brat to wait on him.
+Hank had not asked his permission to send her&mdash;had
+simply announced that she was coming. He
+was treated as if he were a baby&mdash;an idiot, and this
+was his own house. Hank had nothing to do with
+it. He didn't care if Hank did pay her. He had
+money enough of his own to hire a housekeeper.
+But he didn't want one. He wanted to wait on
+himself. He hated to have women cluttering round,
+and he lay, and perspired, and inwardly raged, and
+obtained not one wink of sleep, while 'Tilda Jane,
+having obtained what she wished, peacefully composed
+herself to rest.</p>
+
+<p>First though, she calmly bade him "Good-night,"
+told him to "holler," if he wanted anything, and,
+calling her dogs, went off in search of a bed for
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond the kitchen was a front hall,&mdash;cold,
+dusty, and comfortless. Up-stairs were four rooms,
+two unfurnished, one having something the appear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>ance
+of a spare room left long unoccupied, the other
+smelling of tobacco, exceedingly untidy, littered with
+old clothes, fishing rods, bats, cartridge shells, and
+other boyish and manly belongings. This must be
+Hank's room, probably it had been occupied later
+than the other, and the bed would not be so damp.
+She would sleep here, and she turned down the
+clothes.</p>
+
+<p>"Good land!" she murmured, "I wonder how
+long sence those blankets has been washed?" and
+she turned them back again, and, going to the
+other room, obtained two coverlets that she spread
+over herself, after she lay down on the outside of the
+bed.</p>
+
+<p>The dogs had already curled themselves up on a
+heap of clothes on the floor, and in a few minutes
+the three worn-out travellers were fast asleep.</p>
+
+<p>When 'Tilda Jane lifted her head from her very
+shady pillow the next morning, her ears were saluted
+by the gentle patter of rain. The atmosphere was
+milder&mdash;a thaw had set in.</p>
+
+<p>She sprang up, and went to the dogs, who were
+still snoring in their corner. "Wake up," she said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
+touching them with her foot. Gippie started, but
+something in the expression of Poacher's eloquent
+eyes told her that, although he had been apparently
+sound asleep, he knew perfectly well what was going
+on about him.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's go and see Mr. Dillson," she exclaimed,
+and picking up Gippie, she ran down-stairs with
+Poacher at her heels.</p>
+
+<p>"It ain't cold&mdash;it's just pleasant," she muttered,
+turning the key with difficulty in the front door, and
+throwing it open.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my, how pretty!" and she clasped her hands
+in delight. Across the road was the deep hollow of
+the river. She was in one of a line of cottages following
+its bank, and across the river were fields and
+hills, now a soft, hazy picture in the rain. But the
+sun would shine, fine days would come&mdash;what an
+ideal place for a home! and her heart swelled with
+thankfulness, and she forgot the cross old man in
+the room behind her.</p>
+
+<p>The cross old man would have given the world
+to have turned her out of his house at that very
+minute, but his night of sleeplessness and raging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>
+temper had given him a fierce headache, a bad
+taste in his mouth, and such a helplessness of limbs
+that he could not turn in bed.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane fortunately did not know that if he
+could have commanded his tongue he would have
+ordered her into the street, but she saw that there
+was something wrong with him, and as she stood in
+his doorway, she said, pityingly, "I guess you're
+sick; I'll make you some breakfast," and she vanished
+in the direction of the wood-shed.</p>
+
+<p>He heard her chopping sticks, he heard the brisk
+snapping of the fire and the singing of the teakettle.
+He heard her breaking eggs&mdash;two eggs
+when he never cooked more than one at a time!
+He opened his mouth to protest, but only gave
+utterance to a low roar that brought Poacher, who
+happened to be the only one in the kitchen, into his
+room to stare gravely and curiously at him.</p>
+
+<p>She made an omelet, she toasted bread, she
+steeped him a cup of tea&mdash;this slip of a girl. She
+had evidently been taught to cook, but he hated her
+none the less as she brought in a tray and set it
+beside his bed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He would not touch the food, and he gave her
+a look from his angry eyes that sent her speedily
+from the room, and made her close the door behind
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess he'd like to gimme a crack with them
+crutches," she reflected, soberly, "I'd better keep
+out of his way till he's over it. Reminds me o' the
+matron's little spells."</p>
+
+<p>If she had been a petted darling from some loving
+home, she would have fled from the cottage in dismay.
+As it was, although she suffered, it was not
+with the keenness of despair. All her life she had
+been on the defensive. Some one had always found
+fault with her, some one was always ready to punish
+her. Unstinted kindness would have melted her,
+but anger always increased her natural obstinacy.
+She had been sent here to take care of this old man,
+and she was going to do it. She was too unconventional,
+and too ignorant, to reflect that her protective
+attitude would have been better changed for a
+suppliant one in entering the old man's domain.</p>
+
+<p>However, if she had meekly begged the privilege
+of taking care of him, he would have sent her away,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
+and as she was given neither to hair-splitting nor
+introspection, but rather to the practical concerns of
+life, she calmly proceeded with her task of tidying
+the house without reference to future possibilities.</p>
+
+<p>The kitchen was the first place to be attacked, and
+she carefully examined the stove. It smoked a little.
+It needed cleaning, and girding on some old aprons
+she found in the porch, she let the fire go out, and
+then brushed, and rubbed, and poked at the stove
+until it was almost as clean outside as it was inside.
+Her next proceeding was to take everything off the
+walls, and wipe them down with a cloth-bedraped
+broom. Then she moved all the dishes off the
+dresser, washed the chairs, and scrubbed the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>Then, and not until then, did she reopen the door
+into the old man's room. Now he could see what a
+clean kitchen she had, and how merrily the fire was
+burning in the stove. It was also twelve o'clock,
+and she must look about for something more to
+eat.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dillson had not touched his breakfast, so she
+ate it herself, made him fresh toast, a cup of tea, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+a tiny meat hash, then went up-stairs to tidy her
+bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>The hash was well-seasoned, and the odour of
+onions greeted the old man's nostrils tantalisingly.
+He was really hungry now. His wrath had burned
+down for lack of fuel, and some power had come
+back to his limbs. He ate his dinner, got out of
+bed, dressed himself, and limped out to the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>When he had dropped in his big rocking-chair, he
+gazed around the room. The girl had done more in
+one morning than all the women he had ever
+employed had done in three. Perhaps it would be
+economy to keep her. He was certainly growing
+more feeble, and a tear of self-pity stood in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>There she was now, coming from the French-woman's
+house. She had been over there to borrow
+sheets, and a flash of impotent rage swept over
+him. He tried to have no dealings with those foreigners.
+He hated them, and they hated him. This
+girl must go, he could not stand her.</p>
+
+<p>The back of his rocking-chair was padded, and
+before he realised what was happening, his state
+of fuming passed into one of sleepiness,&mdash;he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>
+off, soundly and unmistakably announcing in plain
+terms, through throat and nose, to the world of the
+kitchen, that he was making up for time lost last
+night.</p>
+
+<p>When he opened his eyes, it was late afternoon,
+and 'Tilda Jane, sitting at a safe distance from him,
+was knitting an unfinished sock of his, left by his
+dead wife some ten years ago.</p>
+
+<p>He blinked at her in non-committal silence. She
+gave him one shrewd glance, with her toe pushed
+Gippie's recumbent body nearer her own chair, and
+went on with her work. If he wanted to hear her
+talk, he could ask questions.</p>
+
+<p>The afternoon wore away and evening came.
+When it grew quite dark 'Tilda Jane got up,
+lighted a lamp, put on the teakettle, and with
+the slender materials at hand prepared a meal
+that she set before the uncommunicative old man.</p>
+
+<p>He ate it, rolling his eyes around the clean
+kitchen meanwhile, but not saying a word.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane kept at a safe distance from him
+until he had finished and had limped into bed.
+She then approached the table and ate a few mor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>sels
+herself, muttering as she did so, "I ain't hungry,
+but I mus' eat enough to help me square up to that
+poor ole crossy."</p>
+
+<p>She was, however, too tired to enjoy her supper,
+and soon leaving it, she washed her dishes and went
+up-stairs.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XVII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">THE TIGER MAKES A SPRING.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The situation would have been absurd if it had
+not been painful. The next morning the old man
+was still in the same mood, angry at the girl's invasion
+of his premises, and yet so appreciative of the
+value of her energetic ways that he did not insist on
+her departure. And so day after day, for a whole
+week, 'Tilda Jane lived on, keeping house for the
+old man, but saying not one word to him.</p>
+
+<p>He would not speak to her, and she would not
+begin a conversation with him. She prepared his
+meals from food that the storekeeper and butcher
+readily gave her on the old man's account, and exercised
+her tongue by talking to her dogs.</p>
+
+<p>Occasionally she called on her French neighbours,
+the Melançons, and from them gleaned various items
+of information about the eccentric Mr. Dillson, without,
+however, allowing them to know that he would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>
+not speak to her. This secret she proudly kept to
+herself. She found out from them that the old man
+was ordinarily in better health than at present,&mdash;that
+he was usually able to hobble about the house
+and wait on himself, for his temper had of late
+become so violent that no woman in Ciscasset
+would enter his house to work for him. Therefore,
+'Tilda Jane's arrival had been most opportune,
+for he would have been in danger of starving to
+death if left to himself.</p>
+
+<p>Feeling persuaded of this, and greatly pleased to
+think that she had been and was of service to the
+father of her benefactor Hank, her attitude toward
+the old man continued to be one of philosophical and
+good-natured obstinacy. She would not speak to
+him, but she was willing to wait on him in silence,
+looking forward to the time when he would find his
+tongue.</p>
+
+<p>Her only fear of his sullenness was on behalf of
+her dogs. He hated them&mdash;she knew it by the
+menacing tremble of his crutches whenever the
+animals came within his reach. Therefore, her
+constant endeavour was to keep them out of his way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
+She had made two soft, persuasive beds in the
+wood-shed for them; but it was cold there, and she
+could not stay with them. They loved her with
+all the strength of their doggish hearts, and wished
+to be with her every minute of the time.</p>
+
+<p>Often at night she would start up in bed from
+troubled dreams of a fierce old figure mounting the
+staircase, crutch in hand. There was no lock on
+her bedroom door, and if the old man had a sudden
+accession of strength, he could easily push aside
+the barrier of a wash-stand and two chairs that she
+put across this door before she went to bed.</p>
+
+<p>She wished that Hank would come home. He
+might persuade his peculiar parent to end this
+unnatural silence, and give her a chance to become
+acquainted with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Mebbe he'll soon come, Poacher," she whispered
+in the ear of the dog who was sitting close beside
+her. "We'll make up our minds for that, won't
+we?"</p>
+
+<p>The dog was sitting up very straight beside her,
+and gazing benevolently down at Gippie, who lay
+on her lap. They were all out on the front door<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>-step,
+and 'Tilda Jane was knitting industriously.
+It was a day like May in the month of March&mdash;there
+was a soft, mild air and a warm sun that made
+dripping eaves and melting snow-banks. Little
+streams of water were running from the garden
+to the road, and from the road to the hollow of the
+river, where large cakes of ice were slowly loosening
+themselves, breaking up and floating toward the
+sea. Spring was coming, and 'Tilda Jane, despite
+the incorrigible sulkiness of the person with whom
+she was living, felt it good to have a home.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have lots o' sport by an' by runnin'
+in the fields, Poacher," she whispered, lovingly, in
+his ear, "you ole comfort&mdash;always so sweet, an'
+good, an' never sassing back. You jus' creep away
+when you see some one comin' and don't say a
+word, do you? You're a sample to me; I wish
+I was like you. An' you never want to be bad,
+do you, an' chase back to the woods?"</p>
+
+<p>The dog abandoned his stately attitude, and gave
+his tongue a quick fillip in the direction of her forehead.
+No&mdash;thanks to her intense devotion to him,
+he had no time for mournful reflections on the past.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But I guess you'd like to see your master sometimes,"
+she murmured. "I see a hankerin' in your
+eyes now an' agin, ole feller, an' then I jus' talk
+to you hard. You darlin'!" and throwing her
+arm around his neck, she squeezed him heartily.</p>
+
+<p>He was boldly reciprocating, by licking her little,
+straight, determined nose, when there was a clicking
+sound around the corner of the house.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane released him and raised her head.
+The old man was approaching, leaning heavily on
+his crutches. The beauty of the day had penetrated
+and animated even his ancient bones. 'Tilda Jane
+was delighted to see him moving about, but, giving
+no sign of her satisfaction, she rose and prepared
+to enter the house. He did not approve of having
+the front door unlocked, he did not approve of her
+habit of dodging out-of-doors whenever she had no
+work to do inside. She felt this, although he had
+never said it, and pushing Gippie into the hall, she
+stepped down the walk to pick up her ball of yarn.</p>
+
+<p>The dog's enemy was some distance away, and
+seeing him leaning so heavily on his crutches, it did
+not occur to her that there could be any fear of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>
+danger. However, with all her acuteness, she did
+not measure the depth of his animosity, nor the
+agility with which it could inspire him.</p>
+
+<p>With a deftness and lightness that would have
+been admirable if it had not been cruel, the old man
+bore all his weight on one crutch, swung the other
+around in the air, and with the heavy end struck
+a swift, sure blow on Poacher's glossy black forehead.</p>
+
+<p>It was all done in the twinkling of an eye&mdash;in
+the short space of time that the little girl's back
+was turned. She heard the crashing blow, flashed
+around, and saw the black body of the dog extended
+on a white snow-bank. His eyes were open, his
+expression was still the loving one with which he
+had been regarding her as she stooped to pick up
+the ball.</p>
+
+<p>For an instant 'Tilda Jane felt no emotion but
+wonder. She stood stock-still, staring alternately
+at the old man and at the motionless body of the
+dog. It had occurred to her that he would kill one
+of her pets if he had a chance, but now that he
+had done it, the thing seemed unreal, almost absurd.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
+Surely she was dreaming&mdash;that was not Poacher
+lying there dead.</p>
+
+<p>She went up to the dog, touched him with soft,
+amazed fingers, lifted the velvet ears, and put her
+hands on his forehead. There was the slightest
+ruffling of the smooth skin where the crutch had
+struck him.</p>
+
+<p>The old man stood and watched her for a few
+seconds, his face a trifle redder than usual, but
+giving no other sign of emotion. He watched her
+until she lifted her head and looked at him, then
+he turned hastily and limped to the back door.</p>
+
+<p>It was an awful look to see on the face of a child,&mdash;an
+avenging, unforgiving, hateful look,&mdash;the look
+of a grown person in cold, profound wrath. He did
+not regret killing the dog, he would like to dispose
+of the other one, but he did object to those murderous
+eyes. She was capable of killing him. He
+must get rid of her, and make his peace with some
+of the Ciscasset witches, in order that they might
+come and wait on him.</p>
+
+<p>He went thoughtfully into the house and sat
+down in his usual corner beyond the kitchen stove.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>
+He wondered whether she would give him any supper.
+He could get it himself to-night if she did not.
+He was certainly better, and a glow of pleasure
+made his blood feel warm in his veins.</p>
+
+<p>Stay&mdash;there she was, coming slowly in&mdash;he
+thanked his lucky stars, looking very much the same
+as usual. He would not be slain in his bed that
+night. And she was getting fresh wood for the fire.
+Perhaps she would make hot cakes for supper. She
+was wonderfully smart for a girl. He had several
+times speculated as to her age. Sometimes when
+talking to the dogs she seemed no more than eleven
+or twelve years old. Ordinarily she appeared to
+him about fifteen, but small for the age. To-day in
+her wrath, she might be taken for seventeen. How
+subdued she seemed as she moved about the kitchen.
+He had done a good thing to strike down one of
+those animals. She would not have such an independent
+air now.</p>
+
+<p>She built up the fire, set the teakettle on the
+back of the stove&mdash;he wondered why she did not
+put it on the front, and why she gradually piled on
+sticks of wood until there was a roaring blaze that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+caused him some slight uneasiness. Was she going
+to set the chimney on fire?</p>
+
+<p>No, she was not; when there was a bed of fiery red
+coals, she took up her tiny padded holder, lifted off
+one of the stove covers, then, to his surprise, went into
+the corner behind him, where he kept his crutches.</p>
+
+<p>What was she going to do? and he uneasily
+turned his head.</p>
+
+<p>She had both his crutches in her hand&mdash;his polished
+wooden crutches with the gold plate inscription.
+Years ago, when he resigned his position as
+bookkeeper at Waysmith and Son's big mill, a gold-headed
+cane had been presented to him, on which
+was engraved a flattering inscription. Nothing that
+had ever been given to him in his life had tickled
+his vanity as this present from the rich and prosperous
+firm had done.</p>
+
+<p>When he had been obliged to put away the cane
+on account of his increasing bodily infirmities, he
+had had the gold plate inscription transferred to his
+crutches where he could see it all the time, and have
+others see it. Now&mdash;what was she going to do
+with those crutches?</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p215" id="p215"></a>
+<img src="images/p215.jpg" width="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"HE LIFTED UP HIS VOICE AND ROARED AT HER."</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He opened his mouth, and for the first time
+addressed her. "Put those crutches down."</p>
+
+<p>She paid less attention to him than she did to
+the crackling of the fire. Walking behind his chair,
+and making a wide circle to avoid his outstretched
+arms, she went to the other side of the stove and&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>He lifted up his voice and roared at her. She
+was sticking the legs of his crutches down in that
+fiery furnace.</p>
+
+<p>He roared again, but she did not even raise her
+head. She was holding the crutches down, stuffing
+them in, burning them off inch by inch&mdash;very
+quietly, very deliberately, but very surely. She was
+not thinking of him, she was thinking of the dead
+dog out on the snow.</p>
+
+<p>He kept quiet for a few seconds, then he began
+to bellow for mercy. She was burning up to the
+cross-bar handles, she would soon reach that gold-plate
+inscription, and now for the first time he knew
+what those eulogistic words were to him&mdash;he, a
+man who had had the temper of a maniac that had
+cut him off from the sympathy of every human being
+he knew.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Tears ran down his cheeks&mdash;in incoherent words
+he stammered an apology for killing her dog, and
+then she relented.</p>
+
+<p>Throwing the charred and smoking tops to him,
+she shut up the stove, took her hat and tippet from
+a peg in the wall, and clasping Gippie to her, left the
+house without one glance at the old man as he sat in
+the smoky atmosphere mumbling to himself, and
+fumbling over the burnt pieces of wood as tenderly
+as if they had been babies.</p>
+
+<p>She had conquered him, but without caring for
+her conquest she left him.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XVIII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">IN SEARCH OF A PERFECT MAN.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Ciscasset, perhaps most beautiful of Maine towns
+near the Canadian border, was particularly beautiful
+on the morning after 'Tilda Jane's departure from
+Hobart Dillson's cottage. The sun was still shining
+fervently&mdash;so fervently that men threw open their
+top-coats or carried them on their arms; the sky
+was still of the delicate pink and blue haze of the
+day before, the wind was a breath of spring blown at
+departing winter.</p>
+
+<p>It was still early, and beautiful Ciscasset was not
+yet really astir. Few women were to be seen on
+the streets,&mdash;only a score of shop-girls hurrying to
+their work,&mdash;but men abounded. Clerks were going
+to their desks and counters, and early rising business
+men to their offices. Market-men swarmed in from
+the country in order to be the first to sell their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>
+produce in the prosperous little town with the Indian
+name.</p>
+
+<p>Other towns and villages might direct their search
+across the sea for European titles for streets and
+homes. Ciscasset prided itself on being American
+and original. The Indian names were native to the
+State, and with scarcely an exception prevailed in
+the nomenclature of the town. Therefore the&mdash;in
+other places Main Street&mdash;was here Kennebago
+Street, and down this street a group of farmers was
+slowly proceeding. They had sold their farm produce
+to grocers and stable-keepers, and were now
+going to the post-office for their mail.</p>
+
+<p>Assembled a few moments later in a corner of the
+gray stone building, and diligently reading letters
+and papers, they did not see a small figure approaching,
+and only looked up when a grave voice inquired,
+"Air you too busy to speak to me a minute?"</p>
+
+<p>The men all stared at the young girl with the dog
+in her arms, the heavy circles around her eyes, and
+the two red spots on her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want?" asked the oldest farmer, a
+gray-haired man in a rabbit-skin cap.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I want to find the best minister in this place."</p>
+
+<p>A smile went around the circle of farmers. They
+were all amused, except the gray-haired one. He
+was nearest to 'Tilda Jane, and felt the intense
+gravity of her manner.</p>
+
+<p>"In the town, I mean," she went on, wearily. "I
+want to ask him something. I thought they'd know
+in the post-office, but when I asked behind them
+boxes," and she nodded toward the wall near them,
+"they told me to get out&mdash;they was busy."</p>
+
+<p>The old farmer was silent for a moment. Then
+he said, gruffly, "You look beat out, young girl, like
+as if you'd been out all night."</p>
+
+<p>"I was," she said, simply, "I've been pacin' the
+streets waitin' for the mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>The attitude of the younger men was half reproachful,
+half disturbed. They always brought
+with them to the town an uneasy consciousness that
+they might in some way be fooled, and 'Tilda Jane's
+air was very precocious, very citified, compared with
+their air of rustic coltishness. They did not dream
+that she was country-bred like themselves.</p>
+
+<p>The older man was thinking. He was nearer the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
+red spots and the grieving eyes than the others.
+The child was in trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"Bill," he said, slowly, "what's the name o' that
+man that holds forth in Molunkus Street Church?"</p>
+
+<p>His son informed him that he did not know.</p>
+
+<p>"How d'ye do, Mr. Price," said the farmer, leaving
+the young farmers, and sauntering across to the
+other side of the post-office, where a brisk-looking
+man was ripping open letters. "Can you give us
+the name of the preacher that wags his tongue in
+the church on Molunkus Street?"</p>
+
+<p>"Burness," said Mr. Price, raising his head, and
+letting his snapping eyes run beyond the farmer to
+the flock of young men huddling together like gray
+sheep.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you call him the best man in Ciscasset?"
+pursued the farmer, with a wave of his hand toward
+'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Price's snapping eyes had already taken her in.
+"What do you mean by best?" he asked, coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean a man as always does what is right,"
+said 'Tilda Jane, when the question was left for her
+to answer.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Don't go to Burness, then," said Mr. Price,
+rapidly. "Good preacher&mdash;poor practiser."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't there any good practisers in Ciscasset?"
+asked the farmer, dryly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;I know some pretty fair ones," responded
+Mr. Price. "I don't know of one perfect
+person in the length and breadth of the town. But
+I know two people, though, who come near enough
+to perfection for your job, I guess," and his brilliant
+glance rested on 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Who be they?" asked the farmer, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it this young girl that wants 'em?" asked
+Mr. Price.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," said the farmer, "it is."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll tell her," said his quicksilver friend,
+and he flashed to 'Tilda Jane's side. "Go up Wallastook
+Street to Allaguash Street. Ask for Reverend
+Mr. Tracy's house. Any one'll tell you&mdash;understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir&mdash;thank you; and thank <em>you</em>, too," and
+with a grateful gesture toward the farmer, she was
+gone.</p>
+
+<p>The farmer gazed after her. "I hate to see a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>
+young one in trouble. Someone's been imposin'
+on her."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Price felt sympathetic, but he said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Who'd you send her to?" inquired the farmer.
+"I'd give a barrel of apples to know."</p>
+
+<p>"To me?" inquired Mr. Price, smartly.</p>
+
+<p>The farmer laughed. "Yes, sir&mdash;I'd do it.
+You've put me in the way of business before
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"I sent her to a man," replied Mr. Price, "who
+might be in Boston to-day if he wanted to. He gave
+up a big church to come here. He's always inveighing
+against luxury and selfishness and the other
+crowd of vices. He and his wife have stacks of
+money, but they give it away, and never do the peacock
+act. They're about as good as they make 'em.
+It isn't their talking I care about&mdash;not one rap.
+It's the carrying out of their talk, and not going
+back on it."</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter wants to go out as hired help. I
+guess that would be an A number one place, if
+they'd have her," observed the father, meditatively.
+"Good enough," said Mr. Price, "if you want<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>
+her to ruin her earthly prospects, and better her
+heavenly ones," and he went away laughing.</p>
+
+<p>The farmer stepped to the post-office door.
+'Tilda Jane was toiling up the sidewalk with downcast
+head. The shop windows had no attractions
+for her, nor was she throwing a single glance at
+the line of vehicles now passing along the street;
+and muttering, "Poor young one!" the farmer
+returned to his correspondence.</p>
+
+<p>The Reverend Mr. Tracy was having his breakfast
+in the big yellow house set up on terraces,
+which were green in summer and white in winter.
+The house was large, because it was meant to
+shelter other people beside the Tracys and their
+children, but there was not a stick of "genteel"
+furniture in it, the new housemaid from Portland was
+just disdainfully observing to the cook.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll get over that soon," remarked the cook,
+with a laugh and a toss of her head, "and will be for
+givin' away what we've got an' sittin' on the floor.
+There's the door-bell. You'd better go answer it;
+it's time the beggars was arrivin'."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tracy was late with his breakfast this morn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>ing,
+because he had been out half the night before
+with a drunken young man who had showed an
+unconquerable aversion to returning home. Now as
+he ate his chop and drank his hot milk, fed a parrot
+by his side, and talked to his wife, who kept moving
+about the room, he thought of this young man, until
+he caught the sound of voices in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Bessie," he said, quietly, "there's your new maid
+turning some one away."</p>
+
+<p>His wife stepped into the hall. The housemaid
+was indeed assuring a poor-looking child that the
+master of the house was at breakfast and could not
+see any one.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll wait," Mrs. Tracy heard in a dogged
+young voice. The front door closed as she hurried
+forward, but she quickly opened it. There on the
+top step sat a small girl holding a dog.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning," she said, kindly; "do you want
+something?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see the Reverend Tracy," responded
+the little girl, and the clergyman's wife, used to
+sorrowful faces, felt her heart ache as this most
+sorrowful one was upturned to her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Come in," she went on, and 'Tilda Jane found
+herself speedily walking through a wide but bare
+hall to a sunny dining-room. She paused on the
+threshold. That small, dark man must be the minister.
+He was no nearer beauty than she was, but
+he had a good face, and&mdash;let her rejoice for this&mdash;he
+was fond of animals, for on the hearth lay a cat and
+a dog asleep side by side, in the long windows hung
+canaries in cages, and on a luxuriant and beautiful
+rose-bush, growing in a big pot drawn up to the table,
+sat a green and very self-possessed parrot. She was
+not screeching, she was not tearing at the leaves, she
+sat meekly and thankfully receiving from time to
+time such morsels as her master chose to hand her.</p>
+
+<p>The little, dark, quiet man barely turned as she
+entered, but his one quick glance told him more than
+hours of conversation from 'Tilda Jane would have
+revealed. He did not get up, he did not shake
+hands with her, he merely nodded and uttered
+a brief "Good-morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you sit here?" said Mrs. Tracy, bustling
+to the fireplace, and disturbing the cat and the dog
+in order to draw up a chair.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I think our young caller will have some breakfast
+with me," said the minister, without raising his
+eyes, and stretching out his hand he pushed a chair
+beyond the rose-bush, and by a gesture invited 'Tilda
+Jane to sit in it.</p>
+
+<p>She seated herself, crowded Gippie on her lap
+under the table, and mechanically put to her mouth
+the cup of steaming milk that seemed to glide to
+her hand. She was nearly fainting. A few minutes
+more, and she would have fallen to the floor. The
+minister did not speak to her. He went calmly on
+with his breakfast, and a warning finger uplifted
+kept his wife from making remarks. He talked
+a good deal to the parrot, and occasionally to himself,
+and not until 'Tilda Jane had finished the milk
+and eaten some bread and butter did any one
+address her.</p>
+
+<p>Then the minister spoke to the bird. "Say good
+morning to the little girl, Lulu."</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning," remarked the parrot, in a voice
+of grating amiability.</p>
+
+<p>"Say 'It's a pretty world,' Lulu," continued her
+owner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It's a pretty world, darlin'," responded the
+parrot, bursting into hoarse, unmusical laughter at
+her own addition. "Oh, it's a pretty world&mdash;a
+pretty world!"</p>
+
+<p>To the gentleman and his wife there was something
+cynical and afflicting in the bird's comment
+on mundane affairs, and they surreptitiously examined
+their visitor. Did she feel this?</p>
+
+<p>She did&mdash;poor girl, she had been passing through
+some bitter experience. There was the haunting,
+injured look of wounded childhood on her face, and
+her curled lip showed that she, too, young as she
+was, had found that all was not good in the world,
+all was not beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>The parrot was singing now:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry">
+<p class="verseq">"'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam,</p>
+<p class="verse">Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.</p>
+<p class="verse">Home, home, sweet, s-we-e-e-t ho-o-o-me,"</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="noindent">but at this point she overbalanced herself. Her
+uplifted claw swung over and she fell backward
+among the rose-branches.</p>
+
+<p>The bird's rueful expression as she fell, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>
+ridiculous one as she gathered herself up, and with
+a surprised "Oh, dear!" climbed back to her
+perch, were so overcoming that the minister and
+his wife burst into hearty laughter.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane did not join them. She looked interested,
+and a very faint crease of amusement came
+in a little fold about her lips, but at once faded
+away.</p>
+
+<p>The minister got up and went to the fire, and
+taking out his watch earnestly consulted its face,
+then addressed his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a ministers' meeting in half an hour.
+Can you go down-town with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear," replied Mrs. Tracy, and she glanced
+expectantly toward 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl started. "Can I ask you a question
+or so afore you go?" she asked, hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, my dear," said the man, with a fatherly air.
+"Not until I come back."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess some one's told you about me," remarked
+'Tilda Jane, bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"I never heard of you, or saw you before a quarter
+of an hour ago," he replied, kindly. "Do you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>
+see that sofa?" and he drew aside a curtain. "You
+lie down there and rest, and in two hours we shall
+return. Come, Bessie&mdash;" and with his wife he left
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was confounded, and her first idea was
+of capture. She was trapped at last, and would be
+sent back to the asylum&mdash;then a wave of different
+feeling swept over her. She would trust those two
+people anywhere, and they liked her. She could tell
+it by their looks and actions. She sighed heavily,
+almost staggered to the sofa, and throwing herself
+down, was in two minutes sleeping the sleep of utter
+exhaustion.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XIX</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">SWEET AND SOFT REPENTANCE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>She was awakened by a hoarse whisper in her
+ear: "Get up and go on, get up and go on. Don't
+croak, don't croak!"</p>
+
+<p>Her eyelids felt as heavy as lead, it seemed as if
+she would rather die than stir her sluggish limbs, yet
+she moved slightly as the rough whisper went on,
+"Get up and go on, get up and go on. Don't croak,
+don't croak!"</p>
+
+<p>It was the parrot with the cold in her throat, and
+she was perched on the sofa cushion by her head.
+'Tilda Jane raised herself on one hand. How weary,
+how unspeakably weary she was! If she could only
+lie down again&mdash;and what was the matter with her?
+Why had she waked with that terrible feeling of
+unhappiness?</p>
+
+<p>She remembered now&mdash;Poacher was gone. She
+had not shed a tear over him before, but now she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>
+hid her face in her hands, and indulged in low and
+heart-broken lamentation. Poor Poacher&mdash;dear,
+handsome dog! She would never see him again.
+What would the Lucases say if they knew of his
+untimely end? What should she do without him?
+and she cried miserably, until the sound of voices in
+the next room recalled her to herself.</p>
+
+<p>She was in the minister's house, and she must get
+her business over with, and be gone. So choking
+back her emotion, she wiped her face, smoothed her
+dress, and, followed by Gippie, stepped into the
+dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>The minister was seated by the fire reading to
+his wife. He got up when he saw 'Tilda Jane, gave
+her a chair, then went on with his book. After
+some time he laid it down. His caller was composed
+now, and something told him that she was
+ready to consult him.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled a beautiful, gentle smile at her, and
+thus encouraged, she swallowed the lump in her
+throat and began:</p>
+
+<p>"I'm 'bliged to you, sir, for lettin' me sleep
+an' givin' me some breakfus, an' can I tell you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>
+somethin' 'bout myself? I'm all kind o' scatter-wise."</p>
+
+<p>"And you wish some one to straighten you out?"
+he asked, benevolently.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir&mdash;an' I thought the best person would
+be a minister&mdash;they said you was the best here."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tracy smiled in a gratified fashion, while
+'Tilda Jane went earnestly on, "I'm all mixy-maxy,
+an' I feel as if I hadn't started right. I guess I'll
+tell you jus' where I come from&mdash;I s'pose you
+know the Middle Marsden Orphan 'Sylum?"</p>
+
+<p>The minister told her that he had heard of it.
+He did not tell her that he had heard it was one of
+the few badly managed institutions for orphans in
+the State, that the children were kept strictly, fed
+poorly, and were rapidly "institutionalised" while
+under the care of uneducated, ignorant women, who
+were only partially supervised by a vacillating board
+of lady managers.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I was riz there," continued 'Tilda Jane,
+"rizzed mostly in trouble, but still I was riz, an'
+the ladies paid for me, an' I didn't take that into
+'count when I run away."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"So you ran away," he said, encouragingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, 'count o' this dog, I said," and she
+pointed to Gippie, "but I guess inside o' me, 'twas
+as much for myself. I didn't like the 'sylum, I
+wanted to run away, even when there was no talk
+o' the dog, an' I'll tell you what happened," and
+while the minister and his wife courteously listened,
+she gave a full and entire account of her wanderings
+during the time that she had been absent from the
+asylum. She told them of Hank Dillson, of her
+sojourn at Vanceboro, and her experience with the
+Lucases, and finally her story brought her down to
+the events of the day before.</p>
+
+<p>"When that ole man keeled over my dog," she
+said, brokenly, "that dog as had saved my life, I
+wanted murder. I wished something would strike
+him dead. But he didn't fall dead, an' then I
+thought it was time for me to chip in an' do
+somethin'. I took them crutches as he can't
+move without, an' I burnt 'em most up&mdash;all but
+a little bit at the top with the gold writin', 'cause
+he sits an' gazes at it, an' I guess sets store
+by it."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You burnt Hobart Dillson's crutches!" exclaimed
+Mrs. Tracy, in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am&mdash;'cause he'd killed my dog."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder he had not struck you down," said the
+lady, with a shudder. "He is said to be a man
+with a very violent temper."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane sprang up, her face as white as a
+sheet. "I mos' forgot. I s'pose he's sittin' there
+this minute. He can't move without 'em, an' nobody'll
+go near him. Now, sir,"&mdash;and she turned
+in desperate haste to the little, dark, silent man,&mdash;"tell
+me quick what I ought to do."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a child with a conscience," he said,
+gravely; "you have been turning the matter over
+in your own mind. What conclusion have you
+reached?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go on," said the parrot, hoarsely, and between
+intervals of climbing by means of bill and claw to
+the top of a chair, "go on, and don't croak. Don't
+cr-r-r-r-oak!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p235" id="p235"></a>
+<img src="images/p235.jpg" width="550" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'I'VE LED ANOTHER DOG ASTRAY, AN' NOW HE'S DEAD!'"</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane turned her solemn face toward the
+bird. "Walkin' to an' fro las' night, a verse o'
+Scripter kep' comin' to me, 'Children, obey your
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>parents in the Lord&mdash;' Now, I ain't got any parents,
+but I had lady-boards. I oughtn't to 'a' run away. I
+ought to have give up the dog, an' trusted. I ought
+to 'a' begged them to get me a home. I ought to 'a'
+been a better girl. Then I might 'a' been 'dopted.
+Ever sence I've run away, there's been trouble&mdash;trouble,
+trouble, nothin' but trouble. I've led another
+dog astray, an' now he's dead!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Tracy exchanged a pitying glance.
+The child was intensely in earnest. Her black eyes
+were bent absently on the parrot who had fallen prey
+to an immense curiosity with regard to Gippie, and
+having surveyed him from the back of the chair
+and the mantel, and finding him harmless, was now
+walking cautiously around him as he lay on the
+hearth-rug. Presently, emboldened by his silence,
+she took the end of his tail in her beak. He did
+not move, and she gently pinched it.</p>
+
+<p>There was a squeal, a rush, and a discomfited
+parrot minus three tail feathers flying to her master's
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, "my, my! What a
+fuss&mdash;what a fuss!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Very little attention was paid her. Her master
+and mistress were taken up with the youthful
+owner of the dog, but Mr. Tracy mechanically
+stroked the bird as he put another question to
+'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"And what do you propose to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I ought to go back," she said, earnestly.
+"I ought to say I'm sorry. I ought to say I'll do
+better."</p>
+
+<p>"Go back&mdash;where?" asked Mrs. Tracy, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"First to the ole man. I ought to be civil to
+him. I ought to talk, an' not be mum like an
+oyster. I ought to ask him if he wants me to go
+'way. I ought to write the lady-boards an' tell 'em
+where I be. I ought to say I'll go back."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you wish to go back?" asked Mr. Tracy.</p>
+
+<p>A shiver passed over 'Tilda Jane's slight frame,
+but she spoke up bravely. "I ain't a-goin' to think
+o' that, sir. I've got to do what's right."</p>
+
+<p>"And what about your dog?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Gippie ain't in it at all," she said, with
+animation. "He don't need to go. I guess I'll
+find some nice home for him with somebody as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>
+likes animiles," and a shrewd and melancholy smile
+hovered about her tense lips as she gazed at her
+host and hostess.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little girl," said Mrs. Tracy, sympathetically;
+"we will take your dog and you, too. You
+shall not go back&mdash;you shall live with us."</p>
+
+<p>As she spoke, her big blue eyes filled with tears,
+and she laid a caressing hand on 'Tilda Jane's
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't do that, ma'am," said the little
+girl, vehemently, and slipping her shoulder from
+under the embracing hand. "Please don't do anything
+homey to me. Treat me as if I was a real
+orphan."</p>
+
+<p>"A real orphan," repeated Mrs. Tracy, in slight
+bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I want a home," cried the little girl, clenching
+her hands, and raising her face to the ceiling.
+"I want some one to talk to me as if I had
+blue eyes and curly hair. I want a little rocking-chair
+an' a fire. I don't want to mind bells, an'
+run with a crowd o' orphans, but it ain't the
+will o' Providence. I've got to give up," and her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>
+hands sank to her sides, and her head fell on her
+breast.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tracy bit her lip, and pressed her hands
+together.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you stay to dinner with us, my dear?" said
+Mr. Tracy, softly. "I will take you into my study
+where there is a fire and a rocking-chair, and you
+shall see some curiosities that I picked up in Palestine."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, sir, I must go," and she again became
+animated. "That ole man&mdash;I mus' see him. Tell
+me, sir, jus' what I am to do. I've been doin' all
+the talkin', an' I wanted to hear you. I guess I'm
+crazy," and she pressed her hands nervously over
+her ears.</p>
+
+<p>She was in a strange state of nervous exaltation
+that was the natural reaction from her terrible dejection
+of the evening before. She had decided to
+make a martyr of herself&mdash;a willing martyr, and
+Mr. Tracy would not detain her.</p>
+
+<p>"Go back to Mr. Dillson's, my dear; you have
+mapped out your own course. I do not need to
+advise you. Your conscience has spoken, and you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>
+are listening to its voice. Go, and God bless you.
+You shall hear from us."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane was about to rush away, but Mrs.
+Tracy detained her. "Wait an instant. I have
+something for you," and she hurried from the room.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XX.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">WAITING.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Dillson had not passed a pleasant night.
+In the first place he had not been able to move for
+a long time after 'Tilda Jane's departure. For half
+an hour he had sat, hoping that she would return,
+or that some one would call on some errand. Without
+his crutches he was helpless.</p>
+
+<p>Strange to say, he was not in a rage with her.
+Indeed, he had never felt more kindly disposed
+toward her, and he certainly had never so longed
+for a sight of her little thin, ungraceful figure.
+Just at the moment of the burning of the crutches
+he could have felled her to the earth, but after it
+was an accomplished fact his lack of resentment
+was a marvel even to himself. Possibly it was
+because she had saved the gold plate. Possibly&mdash;as
+minute after minute went by&mdash;it was because a
+peculiar fear drove all vengeance from his mind.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He had not liked the look in her eyes when she
+went out. Suppose she should make way with herself?
+Suppose she should jump into a hole in the
+ice, or throw herself in front of a locomotive, or do
+any other of the foolish things that desperate and
+maddened people were in the habit of doing? What
+would then be his position? Not an enviable one,
+by any means. He was partly&mdash;not wholly, for he
+had some shreds of vanity left&mdash;aware of his neighbours'
+opinion respecting himself. There was an
+ugly word they might connect with his name&mdash;and
+he glowered over the fire, and felt sufficiently uncomfortable
+until a strange and marvellous thing
+happened.</p>
+
+<p>The kitchen was in an ell of the house, and, by
+hitching his chair around, he could command a view
+from the side window of a slice of the garden in
+front, and also of a narrow strip of the road before
+the house. He would watch this strip, and if a
+passer-by appeared, would hail him or her, and beg
+to have a new pair of crutches ordered from the
+town.</p>
+
+<p>It was while he was sitting in the gathering gloom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>
+watching this bit of highway, that the marvellous
+thing happened. Just by the corner of the house
+was a black patch on the snow,&mdash;the hind legs and
+tail of the poor deceased Poacher. The fore part of
+the body was beyond his vision. Dillson had no
+particular dislike for the spectacle. A dead dog was
+a more pleasant sight than a living one to him, and
+he was just wondering whom he would get to remove
+the animal, when he imagined that he saw the
+tail move.</p>
+
+<p>No, it was only his imperfect vision, and he rubbed
+his eyes and moistened his glasses. Now the tail
+was no longer there&mdash;the hind legs were no longer
+there. Had some one come up the front walk and
+drawn the creature away?</p>
+
+<p>He pressed his face close against the window-pane.
+No&mdash;there was the dog himself on his feet and
+walking about&mdash;first in a staggering fashion, then
+more correctly.</p>
+
+<p>The old man eagerly raised the window. If the
+girl lived, and was going about saying that he
+had killed her dog, here was proof positive that
+he had not; and smacking his lips, and making a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>
+clicking sound with his tongue, he tried to attract
+the resuscitated Poacher's attention. He must
+capture the animal and keep him.</p>
+
+<p>It was years since he had called a dog&mdash;not since
+he was a young man and had gone hunting on the
+marshes below the town.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, dog, dog!" he said, impatiently; "good
+dog!"</p>
+
+<p>Poacher gravely advanced to the window and
+stood below him.</p>
+
+<p>"Good dog," repeated the old man. "Hi&mdash;jump
+in," and he held the window higher.</p>
+
+<p>The dog would not jump while the enemy was
+there. He would not have jumped at all, if he had
+been at the back door, for he would have smelled his
+mistress's tracks and gone after her. Now he suspected
+that she was in the house.</p>
+
+<p>Though every movement gave him agony, the old
+man hobbled away from the window. The dog
+sprang in, and Dillson clapped the sash down. He
+had the animal now.</p>
+
+<p>Poacher was running around the room, sniffing
+vigorously. He stood on his hind legs and smelled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>
+at the peg where the hat and tippet had hung.
+Then he ran to the wood-shed door.</p>
+
+<p>With a most unusual exertion of strength, the old
+man rose, pushed the chair before him, and breathing
+hard, and resting heavily on it, opened the cellar
+door. He would shut the dog down there out of
+sight, and where he could not run out if any one
+came in.</p>
+
+<p>"She's down there, dog," he said, and the boldness
+with which he told the story so impressed
+Poacher, that after one inquiring glance which
+convinced him that his enemy's attitude had
+changed from that of a murderous to a semi-friendly
+one, he dashed down the steps into the
+cold cellar.</p>
+
+<p>Dillson slammed the door, and chuckled. Now
+to get back to the window. He tried to hitch his
+chair along, but he was weak and must rest. He
+sat for a few minutes, and when the few minutes
+were over, he found that his muscles had stiffened.
+He could not move.</p>
+
+<p>He sat a little longer. The fire went out, and
+the room got cold. He was so far from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>
+window that he doubted if any one could hear him
+if he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>He lifted up his voice to try. He was as hoarse
+as a crow. He had a cold, and it was every
+minute getting worse. If he had the dog from
+the cellar, he might tie something to him and
+frighten him so that he would go dashing through
+a window. He began to feel that if the little girl
+did not return, he might sit there till he died.</p>
+
+<p>His case was not desperate yet, however. He
+waited and waited. The night came and went,
+and another morning dawned, and the weather
+changed outside, until a stiff frost began to transform
+the thaw into a return of winter weather&mdash;and
+still he waited, but the little girl did not
+come.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XXI.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">THE TIGER BECOMES A LAMB.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Gippie was tired out, and in an execrable temper.
+He had had to trot home all the way from the
+Tracys, for his mistress was carrying a long bundle
+under one arm, and a good-sized basket on the
+other. And now that she was in sight of the house,
+she was fairly running, and he could scarcely keep
+up with her.</p>
+
+<p>Her head was turned far round, she was looking
+over her shoulder in the direction away from
+the front of the house, and yet she went right
+to the spot where the unfortunate Poacher had
+fallen.</p>
+
+<p>Gippie knew very well what all her emotion was
+about. Like some deaf and partly blind human
+beings, he was more aware of happenings than
+people supposed. Poacher was dead, and he was
+not sorry for it, for he had been desperately jeal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>ous
+of him, and limping up to his mistress he
+impatiently whined to claim recognition.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Gippie, what shall I do?" she moaned.
+"What shall I do? He was so good and gentle.
+I can't go in&mdash;I can't go in."</p>
+
+<p>She was on her knees on the snow. Her hands
+were wandering over the depression where Poacher
+had lain. Her face was so pale and unhappy, that
+even Gippie's selfish heart was touched, and standing
+on his hind legs to reach her shoulder, he
+tenderly licked her right ear inside and out, until
+she brushed him aside with a half laugh, half sob,
+and a murmured, "You tickle my ear, Gippie."</p>
+
+<p>She got up and moved slowly toward the back
+door, while the dog trotted along nimbly on his three
+legs after her. Why, what a vault! and Gippie
+shivered and turned his short-sighted eyes in the
+direction of the kitchen stove. It was black and
+cold, and the old man, sitting in the draughtiest corner
+of the room, right by the cellar door, was a dull,
+mottled purple. He did not speak when the door
+opened. He was morose and silent, and his whole
+appearance was that of a man in extreme distress.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Gippie was an excellent hater, and it did him
+good to see the old man suffer. However, he did
+not care to suffer with him, and squealing dismally,
+he planted himself near the delinquent stove.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane's listlessness and painful depression
+were gone. With a quick exclamation, she had
+dropped her basket and bundle, and had sprung to
+the kindling box.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing in it. She rushed to the
+wood-shed, came back with a handful of sticks and
+paper, and by dint of extra quick movements had,
+in an astonishingly short space of time, a good fire
+roaring up the chimney.</p>
+
+<p>Then she turned to the old man, who was still
+sitting in stony silence. "I'm 'fraid you're most
+froze, sir. Can't you come nigher the fire?"</p>
+
+<p>Dillson's eyelids were swollen with the cold, but
+there was still room for a disagreeable twinkle to
+glimmer through. He would say nothing, however,
+and 'Tilda Jane, approaching the long, peculiar
+looking bundle, opened it, took out a pair of
+crutches, and handed them to him with a humble,
+supplicating air.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Gippie crawled farther under the stove, and,
+lowering his head, awaited developments.</p>
+
+<p>But there was no danger of a blow from the old
+man. His hands were so benumbed that he could
+not hold the crutches. They slipped to the floor
+with a crash, and, opening his purple lips, he ejaculated
+the word, "Tea!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't you had nothin' sence I left?" inquired
+'Tilda Jane, sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Dillson shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"You ain't been sittin' there all night?"</p>
+
+<p>He nodded his head this time.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane's face took on an expression of dismay,
+and she flew around the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>The warm atmosphere was now enwrapping the
+old man in a most agreeable manner, and when
+'Tilda Jane handed him the big cup, he grunted
+something between an expression of thanks and a
+desire that she should hold it to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>While he greedily drank the hot liquid, 'Tilda
+Jane, with a queer choking in her throat, addressed
+broken remarks to him. "I didn't know, sir&mdash;I
+was hopin' some one would come in&mdash;I was mos'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>
+crazy 'bout the dog&mdash;I forgot all 'bout you till
+jus' now."</p>
+
+<p>"More," he said, shortly, when 'Tilda Jane put
+the cup down.</p>
+
+<p>She refilled it, then, as his hands began to get
+supple and he could manipulate it himself, she
+uncovered the basket Mrs. Tracy had given her.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't look in before," she exclaimed. "Oh,
+the beauty eggs!" and she carefully unrolled a
+napkin, "an' the white rolls, an' Washington cake,
+an' a meat pie, an' a tart&mdash;I say, grampa, we'll
+have a good dinner!"</p>
+
+<p>The old man looked strangely at her, but she
+went on unheedingly: "They're jus' boss people.
+I'm glad I went an' talked to 'em&mdash;I'm sorry I was
+so ugly to you, grampa, an' if you don't want me,
+I guess I'd better go 'way."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke quite humbly and naturally, and, as she
+did so, she raised her head and glanced in Dillson's
+direction.</p>
+
+<p>He made no response, and she went on: "I've
+been a very bad little girl, but I'm goin' to be better,
+an' you jus' tell me what you want me to do,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
+grampa, an' I'll do it, an' if you don't want to
+talk, you jus' write it. I know you're a big
+man, an' mebbe you don't want to talk to a
+little girl like me, but I'll not lay it up agin you.
+You jus' do what you want, an' I'm not tryin'
+to come round you, 'cause I 'spect you'll send
+me off quicker'n a flash so soon as you get some
+one else."</p>
+
+<p>Her lips were trembling, and her face was bright
+and expectant, but the old man gave her no satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Hand me some of that pie," he said, unexpectedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you wait till I set the table an' make it look
+real pretty, grampa?" she said, coaxingly.</p>
+
+<p>Dillson was nearly starved, and, without a word,
+held out his hand in a commanding fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, grampa," she said, gently, and she
+handed him a generous slice; "anythin' you like.
+This is your house. It ain't mine."</p>
+
+<p>Dillson ate his pie, watching her meanwhile out
+of a corner of his eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Bread and meat," he said when he had finished.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane supplied this want, and earnestly
+watched these viands going the way of the pie.</p>
+
+<p>"More tea," he said, when they were gone.</p>
+
+<p>When he had eaten and drunk to an alarming
+extent, he pointed to the crutches. "Where did
+you get them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw 'em in a window, grampa,&mdash;a great big
+druggist's window,&mdash;an' I went in an' said to the
+man, 'Can you trust me for 'em? I'll pay you, sure
+pop, if you'll gimme time. I'm goin' to be a good
+girl now, an' never tell no more lies nor steal, nor
+do anythin' bad,' but he jus' said ever so grumpy,
+'This is a cast down, no credit system store,' but I
+wasn't cas' down, an' I said, 'S'pose you was a lame
+man, an' a bad little girl burnt up your crutches,
+how would you feel? 'Then he looked kind o'
+solemn, an' said, 'Whose crutches was burnt up?'
+An' I said, 'Mr. Hobart Dillson's crutches,' an' he
+said, 'What girl burnt 'em?' I said, 'A little girl
+that don't know where to look.' Then he asked
+what you said when I burnt your crutches, an' I
+said you didn't say much, you jus' cussed. Then
+he turned his face round to the bottles, an' when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>
+he looked out it was red, an' he was shakin' all over
+like as if he's been cryin', an' he jus' pointed to the
+crutches an' said, 'Take 'em, an' welcome.'"</p>
+
+<p>Dillson's head dropped on his breast. This girl
+had evidently gone to Peter Jerret's store,&mdash;Peter
+Jerret who had owed him a grudge ever since the
+day he went in and denounced him before a store full
+of customers for overcharging him for prescriptions.
+Peter had actually dared to pity him&mdash;Hobart Dillson,
+and so had let the girl have the crutches, not
+caring whether he ever got paid or not. Well, he
+hadn't thought Peter would ever pity him, and, drawing
+his crutches toward him, Dillson cautiously lifted
+himself, and tried his weight upon them.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, he could walk, he would go to bed, and think
+over Peter's conduct. It affected him, but he must not
+look soft. "Open my door," he said to 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>While she flew to obey his command, the old
+man heard a low whine near him, and remembered
+Poacher. The dog had recognised the girl's voice,
+and would soon make himself known. He might as
+well have the credit of his discovery. If she had
+come home sulky he would have allowed her to find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>
+the dog for herself, but she was meek and biddable,
+and she had also secretly pleased him by addressing
+him as "grampa," in tones of such respect and
+affection. She had improved decidedly, and he exclaimed,
+peremptorily, "Here, you!"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane ran out from the bedroom, where she
+was turning down the icy sheets in the bed so that
+the chill might be taken from them.</p>
+
+<p>"Open this door," ordered the old man.</p>
+
+<p>With a wondering air 'Tilda Jane threw back the
+cellar door. Then she gave a joyful scream.</p>
+
+<p>There, standing on the top step, cold and shivering,
+half famished, but alive and well, was her
+beloved Poacher.</p>
+
+<p>She tried to catch him around the neck, but he
+flew past her into the kitchen, came back like a shot,
+and, dashing up her back, licked her neck, sprang
+into the air, and again racing round and round the
+room, brought on what she herself would call a
+"combobberation."</p>
+
+<p>The old man was so near, that Poacher, in his wild
+gyrations to and fro, swept one of his crutches from
+him. 'Tilda Jane, even in the midst of her aston<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>ished
+and ecstatic glee, perceived this, and stooped
+down to recover the lost article, but she could not
+lay her hand on it, for the excited dog, with his head
+in the air and his tongue hanging out, made repeated
+dashes at her, beside her, behind her,&mdash;he was
+everywhere that she was. And Gippie was after
+him, for, snorting with rage and mortification at the
+resuscitation of his rival, he had bounded from
+under the stove, and, with his maimed tail wagging
+excitedly in the air, was biting, snapping, growling
+at Poacher's heels, nipping him fiercely, if by chance
+he paused a second to rest.</p>
+
+<p>The noise and confusion were overcoming, and the
+old man, holding firmly to his remaining crutch, and
+grasping the back of a chair, grimly surveyed the
+scene. Finally 'Tilda Jane secured the crutch, and,
+pantingly brushing back her dishevelled hair, she
+passed it to him across the dogs' backs.</p>
+
+<p>Poacher had now sunk on the floor at her feet,
+while Gippie was exerting his feeble strength in
+trying to crowd him away from 'Tilda Jane's stout
+shoes.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive us, grampa, dear grampa," she said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>
+beseechingly; "but it's such a joyful 'casion&mdash;such
+a 'casion. My heart never felt so big in my life.
+It's all swolled up. Oh, ain't you sweet to prepare
+this s'prise for me. When I come back jus' now I
+thought my pet was buried in the cold ground&mdash;oh,
+I jus' love you!" and, climbing over the quarrelling
+dogs, she seized the bunch of knuckles nearest
+her, and kissed them fervently.</p>
+
+<p>The old man slowly uncurled his fist and looked
+at it. How many years was it since any one had
+kissed him?</p>
+
+<p>He put the crutch under his arm, and turned
+toward the bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>"Good night, grampa, dear grampa," floated sweetly
+after him. The girl was down on the floor with her
+dogs, her arm was around the hound's black neck, the
+three-legged atrocity was pressed to her side. She
+was happy, yes, happy&mdash;"as happy as a fool," he
+grumbled to himself. Nothing to annoy her, nothing
+to trouble her. Wait till she got older, and life's
+worries began to crowd around her, and with an impatient
+groan the old man flung himself down on the
+chair by his bed.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XXII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">A TROUBLED MIND.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane and grampa were sitting out in front
+of the house. The spring months had passed, the
+apple-trees had blossomed, and the young apples had
+formed. With the changing season had come happier
+days for 'Tilda Jane. Little by little, as the
+weeks slipped by, a better understanding had arisen
+between her and "grampa."</p>
+
+<p>He still gave way occasionally to terrible fits of
+temper and sullenness, but 'Tilda Jane understood
+him better now, and was quick to soothe and pacify
+him, or, if he was unmanageable, to keep out of his
+presence until he recovered.</p>
+
+<p>Just now he was in an unusually amiable frame
+of mind,&mdash;a frame of mind so accommodating that it
+boded storms in the near future. However, 'Tilda
+Jane did not care. She accepted the present peace
+and was thankful.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She had dragged out his big rocking-chair for him
+to sit on, and had given him an evening paper to
+read, while she herself was curled up on her
+favourite seat on the door-step.</p>
+
+<p>The old man was not inclined to read his paper,
+and dropping it on his knees he took off his glasses,
+put them in his pocket, and let his eyes wander to
+the apple-trees.</p>
+
+<p>The river was flowing blue and open now, birds
+were singing, and all things betokened a fine
+summer.</p>
+
+<p>"When you hear those robins sing, don't it feel
+as if there was a little string squeakin' inside o'
+you?" said 'Tilda Jane, gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>Dillson made no reply, and seeing that he was in
+no mood for a sympathetic comparison of emotions, she
+diplomatically started another topic of conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess the birds make me glad, 'cause I'm so
+happy you let me bide with you, grampa&mdash;an'
+you've been so noble an' generous to lend me money
+to pay for the matron's shawl I took for Gippie.
+An' it was so kind in the lady-boards to write back
+that they was glad to get rid of me."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="p258" id="p258"></a>
+<img src="images/p258.jpg" width="650" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'THEY WAS GLAD TO GET RID OF ME.'"</div>
+<p class="rt"><a href="#LOI">[Back to LOI]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The old man laughed a toothless laugh at her
+whimsical view of the lady-boards' reply, but said
+nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't told you much of my travels yet,
+grampa," she said, agreeably. "I've been so busy
+house-cleanin'. I guess you'd like to hear about
+Vanceboro."</p>
+
+<p>The old man did not display any particular interest
+in Vanceboro, but having assured herself by a swift
+examination of his features that the subject was not
+disagreeable to him, she went on, "It's a great ole
+place. I'd like you to go there sometime, grampa.
+Such goings-on with them furriners! I saw one
+woman walkin' up and down wringin' her hands an'
+cryin' 'cause they wouldn't let her bring her ole
+mother into this nation."</p>
+
+<p>She waited for her hearer to ask why the mother
+was forbidden to come where the daughter could
+enter, but he did not do so, and she continued,
+"She was a poor woman from Boston, an' her
+mother was a poor woman from Canada, an' they
+said if she come in 'twould be two poor women
+together, an' first thing they knowed they'd be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>
+both in the poorhouse. So her mother had to go
+back to Canada."</p>
+
+<p>Dillson looked entirely uninterested in the case of
+the would-be immigrant, so, after a farewell announcement
+that sometimes as many as two hundred
+"furriners" went through Vanceboro in a single
+day, 'Tilda Jane passed on to another branch of
+her subject.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a reg'lar jubilee, grampa, when the trains
+come in&mdash;a boy runnin' to a big bell an' ringin' it,
+an' people pourin' into the lunch-room, an' jus'
+chasin' the food into their mouths an' lookin' hunted-like,
+as if there was somethin' after them, an' some
+don't take time to go to the tables. They step up
+to the lunch-counter, which is shaped jus' like a
+moon when it ain't full. There's glass dishes on it,
+with oranges, an' bananas, an' cakes an' pies, an'
+sangwiches, an' a funny machine where you drop
+a nickel in a crack, an' if the hand points to five, or
+ten or fifteen, you get twenty-five cents' worth of
+candy, an' if you don't get candy you get good
+advice like as, 'You've been keepin' bad comp'ny,
+quit it or you will never prosper,' or 'You've run<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>
+away from home, an' the perlice is on your track,'
+or 'Smokin is a bad thing for your health.'"</p>
+
+<p>Grampa was not very much interested, so 'Tilda
+Jane tried something more startling.</p>
+
+<p>"There's great talk of railroad accidents there.
+Men get killed awful. I heard a table-girl ask a
+brakeman how he could go on a train for fear he'd
+be hurt, an' he said he dassent stop to think, he had
+to take chances. I used to see 'em runnin' like
+cats on top o' them cars, slippery with snow an' ice.
+If you're inside one o' them cars, grampa, an' there's
+goin' to be a turnover, jus' grip hard on somethin'
+steady, 'cause then you're not so apt to get killed.
+I heard a conductor say that."</p>
+
+<p>Grampa's travelling days were over, yet it pleased
+him to be talked to as if he were still a strong and
+active man, and he said, shortly, "I'm not likely to
+be going far from home."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know, grampa," she said, soothingly.
+"Some day when you get nice and well, I'd like to travel
+with you, but first you must be very quiet like one of
+Job's mice, an' not have anythin' gnawin' at you&mdash;I
+guess you've had lots of plague times in your life."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Grampa looked unheedingly beyond her to the
+apple-trees.</p>
+
+<p>Her face was shrewd and puckered, and she was
+surveying him like a cunning little cat.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes, grampa, I hear you fussin' in your
+sleep&mdash;moanin' an' cryin' like a poor dog what's lost
+her pups."</p>
+
+<p>The old man turned and looked at her sharply.</p>
+
+<p>She went on boldly, "Can I lie in my soft,
+warm bed up-stairs an' you a-sufferin'? No, I
+creepy, creepy down, to see if I can do anythin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you do that again," said the old man, his
+face becoming red. "You stay in your bed at
+night."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, grampa," she said, meekly, "but I've
+heard things already."</p>
+
+<p>"Things&mdash;what things?" he asked, sharply.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane folded together the apron she was
+hemming, and getting up, opened a door of retreat
+behind her into the house.</p>
+
+<p>"About losin' that money," she said, sadly. She
+paused, and as he neither spoke or made any motion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
+to throw a crutch at her, she proceeded, "Grampa,
+I jus' know it's like a little pain hawk pickin' at
+your skin."</p>
+
+<p>Grampa was still silent, painfully so, and she
+hurried on, "You haven't got much money, an' you
+have me an' the dogs to take care of. Now,
+grampa, won't you let me get some work to do
+outside to help us?" and she screwed her features
+into their most persuasive appearance.</p>
+
+<p>Grampa had his head turned away over his shoulder,
+and when he after a long time twisted it around,
+'Tilda Jane rose, and prudently and swiftly retired
+into the hall.</p>
+
+<p>He must be in a rage. His face was fiery, and
+he was making a choking, spluttering sound in his
+throat,&mdash;a sound that only came from him in moments
+of agitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you&mdash;don't you," he stammered, "spy on
+me again, and bother your young head about things
+you know nothing of. Do you hear?" and he
+accentuated his remarks by a tap of his crutch on
+the door-step. "I've had a way all my life of talking
+over things in my sleep. And you've got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>
+enough to do at home. I'll not have you working
+for other people."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, grampa," said 'Tilda Jane, submissively,
+and she made a step toward him. She had
+planned to fly through the hall to his bedroom, and
+remove his wash bowl and pitcher, for since she had
+come to the cottage he had broken several in his
+fits of rage.</p>
+
+<p>But grampa was not angry in a violent way this
+time. "He's more bothered than mad," she murmured,
+dispiritedly, and she drew aside to allow him
+to pass by her into the house.</p>
+
+<p>"The dew's falling," he muttered, as he went by
+her. "I'll go sit in the kitchen a spell."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane went mournfully to sit under the trees
+on a wooden bench that grampa had had made for
+her. The two dogs curled themselves up at her
+feet, and with a sigh she picked up a writing pad
+beside her. It was almost too dark to see the lines,
+but she must finish a letter that she had begun to
+write to Hank.</p>
+
+<p>His former custom had been to scratch a line to
+his father once in six months to say he was alive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>
+and well, but since 'Tilda Jane's arrival he had
+written every week, and had addressed his letters
+to her.</p>
+
+<p>It was a great pleasure to the little girl to get
+these letters, and an equal pleasure to answer them.
+She related to him every occurrence of her daily
+life, all details of his father's conduct except disagreeable
+ones, and her letters always ended with
+an urgent request that he would come and visit
+them.</p>
+
+<p>This evening she had as usual made an appeal at
+the end of her letter. "Dear Mr. Hank, it seems a
+long time sence the snow was on the ground. I
+guess if you knew how much we want to see you
+you'd come hurryin' home. The dogs send love,
+Gippie specially 'cause he knows you. Poacher says
+he'd be happy to make your acquaintance&mdash;and,
+Mr. Hank, your father's kind of worried about
+somethin'. I guess he'd like to see you."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XXIII.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">AN UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>While 'Tilda Jane wrote, Poacher suddenly made
+a stealthy movement, and Gippie, deaf as he was,
+had enough of the dog spirit left in him to know
+that some one was coming, and to elevate the tiny
+V-shaped flaps over his ears.</p>
+
+<p>The gate clicked, there was a rustling along the
+ribbon-grass bordering the narrow path, and then
+'Tilda Jane's writing-pad fell to the ground, and she
+sprang up with a delighted scream.</p>
+
+<p>For peering forward in the gathering gloom, she
+discovered Hank, the long-absent Hank, moving
+heavily and awkwardly up the path toward her.</p>
+
+<p>He had grown thin; his clothes hung loosely on
+him, and he was pale and worried in appearance, but
+'Tilda Jane did not criticise him. He was the
+person who had most helped her in her search for
+a home, and, springing toward him, she caught his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>
+arm and ejaculated: "Oh, Hank! Mr. Hank&mdash;is
+it truly you I'm pinchin', or is it a ghost?"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled faintly, and, in return, pinched her
+cheek. "I ain't a ghost yet, though 'pon my word
+I didn't know but what I'd soon be one." As
+he spoke, he threw himself wearily on the seat.
+"Well, 'Tilda, how does Ciscasset treat you? Coronation!
+You're getting fat," and he scanned her
+in satisfaction. "I wouldn't know you for the little
+runaway that held me up last March out at
+Marsden."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I'm gettin' fat 'cause I'm peaceful in
+my mind," said 'Tilda Jane, demurely; "I don't
+have no one to fight. I'm jus' havin' the softest
+time!"</p>
+
+<p>"So father really treats you well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course&mdash;don't I write you? He's jus' as
+sweet as a peach. He lets me wash, an' scrub, an'
+cook, an' never says a word excep' not to work too
+hard, an' if he wants to be jus' a little bit cranky,
+jus' a teeny little bit, he goes in his room an' shuts
+the door till the bad spirit gets out of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he ever hurt you?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, he never struck me&mdash;he usen't to like the
+dogs."</p>
+
+<p>Hank had never been told of Poacher's adventure,
+but his attention wandered to the dog, and he
+absently stroked his head.</p>
+
+<p>"You've done the old man a lot of good," he said
+at last.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;no, sir," said 'Tilda Jane, earnestly. "I
+guess it's the dogs. But he wants more good done
+to him. He's in a regular slouch of despond sometimes,
+Mr. Hank."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he?" said the young man, listlessly; "what's
+he desponding about?"</p>
+
+<p>"About money, Mr. Hank. He lost some in
+the street, and never got it back&mdash;then it costs
+something to keep me and the dogs. I feel
+dreadful about it. I try to eat jus' as little as
+possible, but I'm as hungry as a bear mos' all the
+time."</p>
+
+<p>Hank's attention was aroused. "You must not
+stent yourself, sissy. This is too bad. I'm to
+blame. I've been intending to send you some
+money, but I've had a run of bad luck."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>His face was so disturbed that 'Tilda Jane made
+haste to change the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm so worked up to see you&mdash;I'm perfectly
+'tossicated. I feel jus' like the teakettle
+afore it boils, an' that 'minds me&mdash;I mus' go set it
+on. <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note&mdash;Original text: You mus' he">You mus' be</ins> starvin'."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I ain't hungry; I haven't had an appetite
+for a week. How much did father lose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sixty dollars," said the little girl, reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p>Hank relapsed into silence after this information.
+He was evidently not inclined to talk, but 'Tilda
+Jane was brimful of questions, and presently burst
+out with one of them.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hank, what did you do with that beauty
+horse of yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"Had to sell it," he said, bitterly. "I've lost
+everything I had. Those farmers are all against me.
+Every potato top among them. I'm played out in
+this State. They'd like to jail me if they could."</p>
+
+<p>"Jail you," said 'Tilda Jane, resentfully, "I guess
+I'd come and pound at the door of the jail if they
+did."</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to pound," said Hank, in an ungrate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>ful
+and ungallant tone, "'cause I ain't had a mite of
+luck since you crossed my path."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane fell into blank astonishment for the
+space of one minute, then she asked, wistfully, "Do
+you mean that&mdash;did I truly bring you bad luck?"</p>
+
+<p>"You truly did," he said, peevishly. "I'm all
+broken up in my business, cleaned out, done for."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane pushed the hair back from her forehead
+with a bewildered gesture. Her benefactor
+was in trouble&mdash;perhaps ruined, and through her.
+But this was no time for reflection, the urgency
+of the case demanded action.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hank," she said, softly, "warn't it a
+roguey kind of a business, anyway?"</p>
+
+<p>"All business is roguey," he said, gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you don't mean that," she said, mildly.
+"I know you don't mean that I've done you harm.
+I guess you're jus' in trouble like the river in the
+spring, when the ice goes mixy-maxy every way."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled slightly as he rose, and looked down
+into the shrewd little face, "Well, ta, ta, 'Tilda&mdash;be
+a good girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you goin'?" she asked, helplessly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Blest if I know&mdash;somewhere to earn a living,
+to Canada, maybe."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you go through Vanceboro," she said,
+sharply, then she pressed her hands to her head.
+"I think I'm crazy&mdash;are you Hank Dillson,
+standin' there sayin' you're goin' to leave us like
+this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't take on, 'Tilda," he said, consolingly.
+"I'm real sorry. I wouldn't have come out of
+my way this much if I hadn't promised you, and
+if you hadn't been such a nice little girl. Of
+course you haven't hurt me. I guess you've done
+me good, for I've had a kind of disgust with my
+business ever since you set foot in my life."</p>
+
+<p>She paid no attention to the latter part of his
+speech. "You say you've got to go, an' I can't
+keep you," she murmured, stupidly, "an' you don't
+know where you're goin'."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, an' I don't want to know. I'll
+loaf along till my money gives out, then I'll go to
+work."</p>
+
+<p>"Hank, do you think of Orstralia?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I ain't got dough enough to get that far."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean bread?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I mean cash."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you stay here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to do that I know of. This is a one-horse
+place."</p>
+
+<p>"Hank, you ain't seen your father," she cried,
+catching at his coat sleeve, as he turned toward
+the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"'Pon my word, I forgot the old man. I believe
+I'll go in for sixty seconds. You say his health's
+better?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said 'Tilda Jane, hurriedly, "I didn't
+write you that he had a fit not long sence, and
+it seemed to straighten him out. He goes to town
+on his crutches every day, an' Gippie limps after
+him&mdash;oh, Hank Dillson, Hank Dillson, I'm mos'
+loony about this business of your goin' away."</p>
+
+<p>Hank smiled wearily at her, and went slowly
+toward the house.</p>
+
+<p>"How long can you stay?" she asked, running
+after him. "How long will you give us?"</p>
+
+<p>He took out his watch, and held it close to his
+face. "I guess I'll take the eleven o'clock train.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>
+It's nine now&mdash;I thought I'd look up some of the
+boys."</p>
+
+<p>"Give us all the time," she said, pleadingly, "stay
+with your father an' me. Oh, promise, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right," he said, obligingly. "I don't care
+if I do. I'm beat out, anyway."</p>
+
+<p>"I have to go some place, but I'll be back soon,"
+she called after him, then she threw up both hands
+and pressed them over her ears,&mdash;a favourite gesture
+with her when she was doing hard thinking.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Waysmith or Mr. Tracy," she repeated,
+half aloud. "Mr. Waysmith or Mr. Tracy. Mr.
+Tracy," she said, at last, "he's most likely," and
+whirling on her heel, she flew down the path, out
+the gate, and into the street.</p>
+
+<p>Poacher, silent, graceful, and swift, kept close to
+her, but the battered Gippie soon gave up the
+chase with a howl of protest, and went limping
+home.</p>
+
+<p>Hank, to his surprise, had, on the whole, the
+most agreeable talk of his life with his father.
+The old man was altered. He had been, at the
+same time, the stiffest and the most demonstrative<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>
+of parents, the young man reflected. There really
+was a remarkable change for the better in him,
+and yet, at the end of three-quarters of an hour,
+Hank got up to take his leave.</p>
+
+<p>They were nearly always absent from each other,
+they had got out of the way of taking an active interest
+in each other's concerns&mdash;there was not yet
+sufficiently firm footing and enough of it to bridge
+to the shaky background of the past, and parting
+would be a mutual relief.</p>
+
+<p>Yet the old man's eyes twinkled wistfully as they
+followed his son to the door. Hank had told him
+nothing of his troubles, yet his father saw that he
+had lost flesh, that he had not a prosperous air, and
+he acutely guessed that all was not going well with
+him. He would find out from the young girl, and
+with a sigh he settled back in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try to come home soon again, father," said
+Hank, dispiritedly, as he looked over his shoulder
+before closing the bedroom door, and he was just
+shrugging his shoulders at the promise, when something
+dark and panting caught at him in the unlighted
+kitchen, and made him jump.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XXIV.</a><br />
+
+<span class="small">A FRIEND IN NEED.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>It was 'Tilda Jane, breathing like a race-horse.</p>
+
+<p>"What's up with you, sissy?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>She could not speak for a few seconds, then she
+gasped with difficulty, "Hank, dear old Hank, he's
+in there&mdash;the loveliest man&mdash;he's always ready to
+do a turn for any one&mdash;go in&mdash;tell him your business.
+I've said a little, mind what he tells you, an'
+you'll get on. He's helped lots of people. He was
+in the midst of a dinner party. He's so good&mdash;he
+jus' left it an' come. Go&mdash;" and she gave him a
+gentle push and sent him into the parlour, where he
+blinked his eyes alternately at the lamp on the table,
+and at a small, dark, quiet man who sat with his hat
+on his knee.</p>
+
+<p>The small man was breathing hard, as if he, too,
+had been walking fast, but on seeing Hank, he rose
+and stood with outstretched hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My name is Tracy," he said, kindly, "and I
+have come to this town since you left it, but I
+know your family."</p>
+
+<p>"I know you, too," said Hank, bluntly, "from
+her letters," and he jerked his head backward, but
+'Tilda Jane, after softly closing the door, had
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tracy sat down again, and Hank sat opposite
+him. A slight and awkward pause ensued, broken
+speedily, however, by the minister.</p>
+
+<p>"Young man, you are in trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am that," said Hank, gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"State your trouble," said the minister, kindly.</p>
+
+<p>Hank hesitated an instant, then his words came
+with a rush. "You've visited creameries, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there's good creameries and bad creameries.
+A few years ago, when I was casting about
+in my mind for something to do, I got in with a
+Chicago firm known as the White Elephant firm&mdash;owing
+to so many States being spotted with their
+buildings, loaded on the farmers, and costing too
+much to keep up. Being a Maine man, they sent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>
+me to my own State. I was one of their most go-ahead
+sharks, now they've fired me to fix themselves
+right with the farmers. Do you know how they
+take in a community, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, s'pose you're a shark. You navigate
+round among the farmers, and make a smother of
+big talk about hauling in buckets full of money.
+You get a committee to visit some creamery where
+the outfit is salted to make an extra showing. You
+pay the farmers' expenses, you offer 'em a block of
+stock, and up goes the creamery in their district
+with machinery from the promoting company,
+costing two or three times over what everything
+is worth. When the whole thing's up, it'll usually
+dawn on the minds of your stockholders that
+a creamery ain't much without cows, and their
+cows ain't got enough milk to pay for the fuel
+they burn. 'Way back here fifty miles, I had
+whipped up a creamery; I had a man to run the
+machinery, but he was a simpleton. He ruined
+the separator, it had to be sent back to the shop,
+an' I got mad with him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Then he blabbed, told everything he knew, an' a
+lot he didn't, an' the farmers stopped counting their
+cows long enough to listen. Hasty words flew
+round, about fraudulent subscriptions, vitiated transactions,
+no contracts, ruined farms, going to law&mdash;an'
+I thought it was time to skip. The firm had
+made me stop there up to this, an' as soon as I
+ran, they bounced me&mdash;I'm all played out here,
+sir. My native State bids me farewell!"</p>
+
+<p>Hank suddenly ceased speaking, his head dropped
+on his breast, yet before it did so, he shot one appealing,
+hopeful glance at his listener. Despite
+his "don't-care" tone, and off-hand manner, it was
+plainly to be seen that he felt himself in trouble, and
+knew that there was one at hand who would help
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"You've been in a poor business," observed Mr.
+Tracy, quietly. "You want to quit it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," said Hank, meekly.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen then&mdash;" and his companion in his turn
+began to speak rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane, flying about the house, sent many an
+anxious thought to the closed parlour. What was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>
+the minister saying to Hank? Would Hank talk
+to him freely?</p>
+
+<p>"O Lord! Lord! Lord!" she cried, suddenly
+stopping and raising her clasped hands to the ceiling,
+"do make his heart soft&mdash;soft as mush, an'
+don't let him be sassy. The minister is smooth an'
+nice, an' he would stand sass, but it's awful bad for
+Hank. He's got to sober down. O Lord, make
+him solemn&mdash;jus' like an owl!"</p>
+
+<p>She dashed a tear from the corner of her eye, and
+went on with her occupation of wrapping various
+articles in a red handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>When the parlour door opened, she ran to the
+front hall, and as Mr. Tracy passed her, she caught
+his hand and pressed it fervently.</p>
+
+<p>He said nothing, but smiling with the more than
+earthly sweetness of one who truly loved his fellow
+men, he hurried back to his deserted guests.</p>
+
+<p>Hank followed close at his heels, and as he stood
+in the hall doorway, looking already straighter and
+taller, he smiled patronisingly down at 'Tilda Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a mighty fine girl, sissy, how old are you
+now?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thirteen o'clock las' week&mdash;struck fourteen this&mdash;oh,
+what did the minister say?"</p>
+
+<p>Hank thumped his chest. "He's got me a situation,
+sissy,&mdash;a situation that means bread and butter
+for you and father, and maybe cake and jam."</p>
+
+<p>The little girl locked her hands in intense excitement.
+"Where, Hank, oh, where?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here, sissy."</p>
+
+<p>"In Ciscasset?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane suppressed a scream. "An' you can
+live at home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I rather guess so."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane's pleasure was too deep for words.
+She stood gaping speechlessly at him.</p>
+
+<p>Hank, in high good humour, beamed benevolently
+on the orphan girl as she stood beside him. "What
+are you sticking your head up an down for like a
+chicken taking a drink?" he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Hank, I'm givin' thanks," she said, reverently,
+"givin' thanks that you've got led out of that roguey
+business."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll not get into anything of that kind again,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>
+sissy," he said, with a shamefaced air. "You may
+just be sure of that. I've had a great talk with that
+friend of yours&mdash;and sissy, I'm obliged to you."</p>
+
+<p>There was a queer break in his voice. An end
+had suddenly come to his troubles. He would now
+be in the way of earning an honest living. And it
+would be a pleasure to live with his father and this
+young girl who would look up to him and admire
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Sissy," he said, abruptly, "where do you think
+my new berth is?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know&mdash;oh, tell me quick."</p>
+
+<p>"In the Waysmith lumber mill. Mr. Waysmith
+offered a place to your friend Tracy to-day for some
+young man, and I'm the young man."</p>
+
+<p>"With the Waysmiths?" murmured 'Tilda Jane,
+"where your father used to be?"</p>
+
+<p>"The same, sissy."</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane could stand no more. "O Lord, I
+thank thee!" she cried, with a burst of tears, and
+running into the kitchen, she buried her face in the
+roller towel hanging on a door.</p>
+
+<p>Hank sauntered after her, and on his way stumbled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>
+over a bundle done up in a spotted red handkerchief.
+He stooped down, picked it up, and opened it. It
+contained a few lumps of sugar, a Bible, a pair of
+socks, two handkerchiefs, half a loaf of cake, and
+fifty cents wrapped in a piece of newspaper.</p>
+
+<p>"My travelling kit," he murmured; "well, if she
+ain't the best little creature!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, 'Tilda!" he called out; "stop that
+whimpering, and come and tell grampa the news."</p>
+
+<p>The little girl hastily dried her face on the towel,
+and ran into the bedroom where grampa sat surveying
+them in bewilderment from the edge of his
+bed. Some time ago he had come to his room with
+the intention of undressing. His son's visit had
+upset him, and he had been sitting confusedly listening
+to the scraps of conversation he caught from
+different parts of the house.</p>
+
+<p>"Grampa, grampa!" cried 'Tilda Jane, running
+in, and excitedly waving her hands, "Hank's goin'
+to live at home with you, an' me, an' the dogs.
+We'll be a real family. Oh, ain't it lovely, ain't it
+lovely?" and catching hold of her skirts she began
+a sidling and peculiar dance about the room.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hank laughed till the tears came into his eyes.
+'Tilda Jane was good, but she was not graceful.
+Then his merriment over, he began to yawn, and
+'Tilda Jane, as keen of observation as ever, immediately
+espied this sign of fatigue.</p>
+
+<p>She caught up Gippie, who alone showed no pleasure
+at the prospect of having another inmate of
+the house, and danced out to the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"Come out, grampa dear," she called, "we'll
+all have a good supper, 'cause this is a most joyful
+'casion."</p>
+
+<p>As grampa started to limp out to the kitchen,
+Hank quietly placed himself by his side.</p>
+
+<p>The old man looked at him. "I'm not sorry
+you're going to stay," he remarked, gruffly. "They
+say there's no place like home."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better believe that's true, father," said
+Hank, warmly; "a fellow gets sick of hotels and
+boarding-houses. We'll have some more funds now
+that I'm going to get at some decent kind of work.
+You mustn't bother your head about expenses."</p>
+
+<p>The old man sank into his chair with a sigh of
+relief. His face was working strangely. Last year<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>
+at this time he was alone and miserable in a cheerless
+house. Now his son was with him, a brisk
+young girl was flying about his kitchen, a bright fire
+burned in the stove, a fire that was not unpleasantly
+warm to his aged limbs even on this summer night.
+A white cloth covered his formerly bare and uninviting
+table; he was going to have pie, and coffee,
+and toast and cake for supper,&mdash;surely the coming
+of this orphan had been a fortunate thing for him,
+and he slowly chafed his hands as he gazed at the
+glowing bed of coals.</p>
+
+<p>Hank was following 'Tilda Jane from kitchen to
+pantry, and from pantry to kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"You're getting to be a great housekeeper," he
+said, admiringly; "but we must not forget the
+schooling. It's a great thing to be educated. You
+can't hold your own in this world unless you know
+something. You wrote me Mrs. Tracy was teaching
+you some, didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>'Tilda Jane paused as she filled a sugar-bowl.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, three evenin's a week. She's a boss&mdash;I
+mean a good teacher. I learned some at the 'sylum,&mdash;no,
+the asylum, when I warn't&mdash;no, when I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>
+werent'&mdash;no, when I wasn't in the kitchen. And
+grampa talks to me some. He's a fine scholar."</p>
+
+<p>"That's good&mdash;get all you can; but three evenings
+a week ain't enough. As soon as I can compass
+it, I'll have some one to take care of father
+daytimes, and let you go to school."</p>
+
+<p>"To school!" said the little girl, "to learn more&mdash;to
+know how to speak proper! Oh, oh, I'm mos'
+too happy to live! Hank Dillson, I think you're
+the mos' beautiful man that was ever made!" and,
+dropping her sugar-bowl on the shelf, she seized a
+hand of the ex-creamery shark, and warmly pressed
+it between her little lean palms.</p>
+
+<p>Hank, in some embarrassment, murmured, "Oh,
+fudge, I'm not as good as the next one."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a million times better!" exclaimed 'Tilda
+Jane. "Oh, what a glad man Mr. Waysmith will
+be to have you in his mill! Come now, let's have
+supper. Dear ole grampa mus' get to bed. You
+wouldn't like to kill him with joy the first night
+you're home."</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later 'Tilda Jane was beaming
+behind the big coffee-pot. At last she had become<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>
+a member of a really happy family. Her dogs were
+stretched luxuriously on their rag mat by the stove,
+Grampa, calm and quiet, was sipping his coffee, and
+listening to some of Hank's travelling adventures.</p>
+
+<p>She could not contain her delight. Her heart
+was too full, and presently she burst into low, irrepressible
+laughter.</p>
+
+<p>Her companions stopped talking and stared at
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I can't help it!" she exclaimed, wildly,
+"I feel as if I'd come through a big sea of troubles
+to reach the promised land! I'm crazy&mdash;I'm
+crazy!" and too excited to keep still she pushed
+her chair aside, and rocked back and forth on her
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>She saw stretching before her a long vista of
+happy years&mdash;the sight was almost too much for
+her, yet even in her ecstasy she thought of other
+children less fortunate.</p>
+
+<p>"Hank, brother Hank!" she called suddenly,
+"the Tracys say to pass on blessings. All the
+world ain't joyful like us. When you make a little
+money will you let me write to the lady-boards for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>
+another orphan,&mdash;the ugliest little orphan they've
+got,&mdash;worse than me, if it's not unpossible."</p>
+
+<p>"You just write it down that I will," said Hank,
+gazing kindly and benevolently at her flushed face.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll do it," cried 'Tilda Jane. "We'll be
+good to that other orphan. I know they'll have
+one, but how can I wait? What shall I do? I
+mus' hug some one, I'm so happy!"</p>
+
+<p>She flashed a glance at the dogs. They were
+sleepy and comfortable. "Grampa, I guess it'll
+have to be you," she said, gaily, and, running to the
+old man, she threw her arms around his wrinkled
+neck, kissed his bald head, and fulfilled her promise
+of a hugging so vigorously that at last he called for
+mercy.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, I'll go take something," she said, demurely,
+and, with a last caress, "you darlin' ole
+grampa&mdash;I could eat you&mdash;Lord, give me a thankful
+heart for all these mercies," then, reverently
+bending her head over her plate, she took up her
+knife and fork with a long and happy sigh.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p2 pfs90">THE END.</p>
+
+
+<p class="p4" />
+<div><a name="PBC" id="PBC"></a></div>
+<hr class="fulla pg-brk" />
+<hr class="fulla" />
+
+<p class="p2 pfs135"><span class="smcap">L. C. Page &amp; Company's</span><br />
+Cosy Corner Series<br />
+<span class="xs">OF</span><br />
+Charming Juveniles</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep1x.jpg" width="20" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="pfs80">Each one volume, 16mo, cloth, Illustrated, 50 cents</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep1x.jpg" width="20" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="advert">
+
+<p><b>Ole Mammy's Torment.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Little Colonel.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Big Brother."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Big Brother.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Gate of the Giant Scissors.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Two Little Knights of Kentucky,</b> who were "The Little
+Colonel's" neighbors. By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A sequel to "The Little Colonel."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Story of Dago.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Little Colonel," etc.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Farmer Brown and the Birds.</b> By <span class="smcap">Frances Margaret
+Fox</span>. A little story which teaches children that the birds
+are man's best friends.</p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Story of a Short Life.</b> By <span class="smcap">Juliana Horatia Ewing</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This beautiful and pathetic story is a part of the world's
+literature and will never die.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Jackanapes.</b> By <span class="smcap">Juliana Horatia Ewing</span>.</p>
+
+<p>A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite and
+touching story, dear alike to young and old.</p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Little Lame Prince.</b> By <span class="smcap">Miss Mulock</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures
+by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Adventures of a Brownie.</b> By <span class="smcap">Miss Mulock</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The story of a household elf who torments the cook and
+gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the children.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>His Little Mother.</b> By <span class="smcap">Miss Mulock</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant
+source of delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in
+this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts
+of readers.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Little Sunshine's Holiday.</b> By <span class="smcap">Miss Mulock</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">"Little Sunshine" is another of those beautiful child-characters
+for which Miss Mulock is so justly famous.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Wee Dorothy.</b> By <span class="smcap">Laura Updegraff</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the
+eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Rab and His Friends.</b> By Dr. <span class="smcap">John Brown</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known to
+need description.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Water People.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Lee Sleight</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Relating the further adventures of "Harry," the little hero
+of "The Prince of the Pin Elves."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Prince of the Pin Elves.</b> By <span class="smcap">Chas. Lee Sleight</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A fascinating story of the underground adventures of a
+sturdy, reliant American boy among the elves and
+gnomes.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Helena's Wonderworld.</b> By <span class="smcap">Frances Hodges White</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in the
+mysterious regions beneath the sea.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>For His Country.</b> By <span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A beautiful story of a patriotic little American lad.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Little Puritan's First Christmas.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edith Robinson</span>.</p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Little Daughter of Liberty.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edith Robinson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "A Loyal Little Maid," "A Little Puritan
+Rebel," etc.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A true story of the Revolution.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Little Puritan Rebel.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edith Robinson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">An historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the
+gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Loyal Little Maid.</b> By <span class="smcap">Edith Robinson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days,
+in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important
+services to George Washington and Alexander
+Hamilton.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Dog of Flanders.</b> <span class="smcap">A Christmas Story.</span> By <span class="smcap">Louise
+de la Ramée</span> (Ouida).</p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Nurnberg Stove.</b> By <span class="smcap">Louise de la Ramée</span> (Ouida).</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This beautiful story has never before been published at a
+popular price.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The King of the Golden River.</b> <span class="smcap">A Legend of Stiria</span>.
+By <span class="smcap">John Ruskin</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Written fifty years or more ago, this little fairy tale soon
+became known and made a place for itself.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>La Belle Nivernaise.</b> <span class="smcap">The Story of An Old Boat and
+Her Crew.</span> By <span class="smcap">Alphonse Daudet</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">It has been out of print for some time, and is now offered
+in cheap but dainty form in this new edition.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Young King.</b> <b>The Star Child.</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Two stories chosen from a recent volume by a gifted
+author, on account of their rare beauty, great power,
+and deep significance.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Great Emergency.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mrs. Ewing</span>.</p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Trinity Flower.</b> By <span class="smcap">Juliana Horatia Ewing</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. Ewing's
+best short stories for the young people.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Adventures of Beatrice and Jessie.</b> By <span class="smcap">Richard
+Mansfield</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A bright and amusing story of the strange adventures of
+two little girls in the "realms of unreality."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Child's Garden of Verses.</b> By <span class="smcap">R. L. Stevenson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This little classic is undoubtedly the best of all volumes of
+poetry for children.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Little King Davie.</b> By <span class="smcap">Nellie Hellis</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">It is sufficient to say of this book that it has sold over
+110,000 copies in England, and consequently should well
+be worthy of a place in "The Cosy Corner Series."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Little Peterkin Vandike.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Stuart Pratt</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The author's dedication furnishes a key to this charming
+story.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">"I dedicate this book, made for the amusement of the
+boys who may read it, to the memory of one boy, who
+would have enjoyed as much as Peterkin the plays of
+the Poetry Party."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Making of Zimri Bunker.</b> <span class="smcap">A Tale of Nantucket.</span>
+By <span class="smcap">W. J. Long</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The story deals with a sturdy American fisher lad during
+the war of 1812.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Fortunes of the Fellow.</b> By <span class="smcap">Will Allen Dromgoole</span>.
+A sequel to "The Farrier's Dog and His
+Fellow."</p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.</b> By <span class="smcap">Will Allen
+Dromgoole</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman,
+will appeal to all that is best in the natures of her many
+admirers.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Sleeping Beauty.</b> <span class="smcap">A Modern Version.</span> By <span class="smcap">Martha
+B. Dunn</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, intellectually
+"asleep," until she meets the "Fairy Prince."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Young Archer.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles E. Brimblecom</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied
+Columbus on his voyage to the New World.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="advert-box">
+
+<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2a">
+<p class="pfs240">Our Devoted Friend<br />
+the Dog</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By SARAH K. BOLTON</p>
+
+<p class="pfs80 wsp">AUTHOR OF "GIRLS WHO HAVE BECOME FAMOUS," ETC.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs100"><em>Fully illustrated with many reproductions from original
+photographs.</em></p>
+
+<p class="pfs100">1 vol., small quarto, $1.50</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>This book of the dog and his friends does for the
+canine member of the household what Helen M. Winslow's
+book, "Concerning Cats," did for the feline.
+No one who cares for dogs&mdash;and that class includes
+nearly all who do not care for cats, and some who do&mdash;will
+admit that the subject of Mrs. Bolton's book is a less
+felicitous choice than that of its predecessor; while the
+author's well-known ability as a writer and lecturer, as
+well as her sympathy with her subject, are a sufficient
+guarantee of a happy treatment.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2a">
+<p class="pfs150 lsp">THE</p>
+
+<p class="pfs240">Rosamond Tales</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By CUYLER REYNOLDS</p>
+
+<p><em>With many full-page illustrations from original photographs
+by the author, together with a frontispiece from a
+drawing by Maud Humphreys.</em></p>
+
+<p class="pfs100">Large 12mo, cloth, $1.50</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>These are just the bedtime stories that children always
+ask for, but do not always get. Rosamond and Rosalind
+are the hero and heroine of many happy adventures in
+town and on their grandfather's farm; and the happy
+listeners to their story will unconsciously absorb a vast
+amount of interesting knowledge of birds, animals, and
+flowers, just the things about which the curiosity of
+children from four to twelve years old is most insatiable.
+The book will be a boon to tired mothers, as a delight to
+wide-awake children.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2a">
+<p class="pfs150 lsp">THE</p>
+
+<p class="pfs240">Little Cousin Series</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By MARY F. WADE</p>
+
+<p class="pfs100">Four volumes, each illustrated, cloth, 12mo, 60 cents</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120">
+<span class="smcap">Volume I.</span><br />
+<span class="xl">Our Little Japanese Cousin</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Volume II.</span><br />
+<span class="xl">Our Little Brown Cousin</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Volume III.</span><br />
+<span class="xl">Our Little Indian Cousin</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Volume IV.</span><br />
+<span class="xl">Our Little Russian Cousin</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>These are the most interesting and delightful accounts
+possible of child-life in other lands, filled with quaint
+sayings, doings and adventures. The "Little Japanese
+Cousin," with her toys in her wide sleeve and her tiny
+bag of paper handkerchiefs; the "Little Brown Cousin,"
+in whose home the leaves of the breadfruit-tree serve for
+plates and the halves of the cocoanut shells for cups; the
+"Little Indian Cousin," who lives the free life of the
+forest, and the "Little Russian Cousin," who dwells by
+the wintry Neva, are truly fascinating characters to the
+little cousins who will read about them.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2a">
+<p class="pfs150 lsp">THE</p>
+
+<p class="pfs240">Cosy Corner Series</p>
+
+<p class="pfs80 wsp">A SERIES OF CHARMING ILLUSTRATED
+JUVENILES BY WELL-KNOWN AUTHORS</p>
+
+<p>We shall issue ten new volumes in this well-known
+series of child classics, and announce three as follows:</p>
+
+<p class="pfs180">A Little Puritan Pioneer</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By EDITH ROBINSON</p>
+
+<p>Author of "A Loyal Little Maid," "A Little Puritan's
+First Christmas," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs180">Madam Liberality</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By MRS. EWING</p>
+
+<p>Author of "Jackanapes," "A Great Emergency,"
+"Story of a Short Life," etc., etc.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs180">A Bad Penny</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By JOHN T. WHEELWRIGHT</p>
+
+<p>The other seven will include new stories by Louise
+de la Ramée, Miss Mulock, Nellie Hellis, Will Allen
+Dromgoole, etc., etc.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs100"><em>Forty-four volumes previously published</em></p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="p4 pfs135 pg-brk">Selections from<br />
+
+<span class="smcap">L. C. Page &amp; Company's</span><br />
+
+Books for Young People</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="advert">
+
+<p><b>Old Father Gander:</b> <span class="smcap">or, The Better-Half of Mother
+Goose</span>. <span class="smcap">Rhymes, Chimes, and Jingles</span> scratched from
+his own goose-quill for American Goslings. Illustrated
+with impossible Geese, hatched and raised by <span class="smcap">Walter
+Scott Howard</span>.</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., oblong quarto, cloth decorative</td><td class="tdr wd20">$2.00</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The illustrations are so striking and fascinating that the
+book will appeal to the young people aside from the fact
+even of the charm and humor of the songs and rhymes.
+There are thirty-two full-page plates, of which many are
+in color. The color illustrations are a distinct and successful
+departure from the old-fashioned lithographic
+work hitherto invariably used for children's books.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Crock of Gold:</b> <span class="smcap">A New Book of Fairy Tales</span>.
+By <span class="smcap">S. Baring Gould</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Mehalah," "Old Country Life," "Old English
+Fairy Tales," etc. With twenty-five full-page illustrations
+by F. D. Bedford.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., tall 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top</td><td class="tdr">$1.50</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This volume will prove a source of delight to the children
+of two continents, answering their always increasing demand
+for "more fairy stories."</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Shireen and Her Friends:</b> <span class="smcap">The Autobiography of a
+Persian Cat</span>. By <span class="smcap">Gordon Stables</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Illustrated by Harrison Weir.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative</td><td class="tdr">$1.25</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A more charming book about animals Dr. Stables himself
+has not written. It is similar in character to "Black
+Beauty," "Beautiful Joe," and other books which teach
+us to love and protect the dumb animals.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Bully, Fag, and Hero.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles J. Mansford</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">With six full-page illustrations by S. H. Vedder.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top</td><td class="tdr">$1.50</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">An interesting story of schoolboy life and adventure in
+school and during the holidays.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Adventures of a Boy Reporter</b> <span class="smcap">in the Philippines</span>.
+By <span class="smcap">Harry Steele Morrison</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "A Yankee Boy's Success."</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated</td><td class="tdr">$1.25</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A true story of the courage and enterprise of an American
+lad. It is a splendid boys' book, filled with healthy interest,
+and will tend to stimulate and encourage the proper
+ambition of the young reader.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Tales Told in the Zoo.</b> By <span class="smcap">F. C. Gould</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">With many illustrations from original drawings.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large quarto</td><td class="tdr">$2.00</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A new book for young people on entirely original lines.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The tales are supposed to be told by an old adjutant stork
+in the Zoological Gardens to the assembled birds located
+there, and they deal with legendary and folk-lore stories
+of the origins of various creatures, mostly birds, and
+their characteristics.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Philip:</b> <span class="smcap">The Story of a Boy Violinist</span>. By T. W. O.</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., 12mo, cloth</td><td class="tdr">$1.00</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The life-story of a boy, reared among surroundings singular
+enough to awaken interest at the start, is described by
+the present author as it could be described only by one
+thoroughly familiar with the scene. The reader is carried
+from the cottages of the humblest coal-miners into the
+realms of music and art; and the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">finale</i> of this charming
+tale is a masterpiece of pathetic interest.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Black Beauty:</b> <span class="smcap">The Autobiography of a Horse</span>. By
+<span class="smcap">Anna Sewell</span>. <em>New Illustrated Edition.</em></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">With twenty-five full-page drawings by Winifred Austin.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top</td><td class="tdr">$1.25</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">There have been many editions of this classic, but we confidently
+offer this one as the most appropriate and handsome
+yet produced. The illustrations are of special
+value and beauty, and should make this the standard
+edition wherever illustrations worthy of the story are
+desired.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Voyage of the Avenger:</b> <span class="smcap">In the Days of the
+Dashing Drake</span>. By <span class="smcap">Henry St. John</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "A Middy of Nelson's Day," etc. With twenty-five
+full-page illustrations by Paul Hardy.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., tall 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 400 pages</td><td class="tdr">$1.50</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A book of adventure, the scene of which is laid in that
+stirring period of colonial extension when England's
+famous naval heroes encountered the ships of Spain,
+both at home and in the West Indies. Mr. St. John
+has given his boy readers a rattling good story of the
+sea. There is plenty of adventure, sufficient in fact to
+keep a boy fixed near the fireside until the last page is
+reached.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>A Child's History of Spain.</b> By <span class="smcap">Leonard Williams</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Ballads and Songs of Spain," etc.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., small 12mo, with frontispiece, cloth, gilt top</td><td class="tdr">$0.75</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Although the recent war with Spain has aroused general
+interest and caused a great demand for literature relating
+to the subject, there has not as yet been published a condensed
+history of Spain for young people. Mr. Williams's
+little book will prove a desirable addition to the children's
+historical library.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Fairy Folk from Far and Near.</b> By <span class="smcap">A. C. Woolf</span>, M. A.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">With numerous full-page color illustrations by Hans Reitz.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl pad2 wd90">1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative</td><td class="tdr">$1.50</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">It is long since there has appeared such a thoroughly delightful
+volume of fairy tales as that of Annie C. Woolf.
+An added attraction to the book is found in the exquisite
+colored illustrations, the work of Hans Reitz. As a
+Christmas gift-book to children, these tales will be hard
+to excel.</span></p>
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Magnet Stories.</b> By <span class="smcap">Lynde Palmer</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A new edition; new binding and larger size volume, 5 vols.,
+12mo. Reduced price.</span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="">
+<tr><td class="tdl wd90">Drifting and Steering</td><td class="tdr">$1.00</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">One Day's Weaving</td><td class="tdr">1.00</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">Archie's Shadow</td><td class="tdr">1.00</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">John-Jack</td><td class="tdr">1.00</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl">Jeannette's Cisterns</td><td class="tdr">1.00</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="advert-box">
+
+<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2a">
+<p class="pfs150 lsp">THE</p>
+
+<p class="pfs240">Woodranger Tales</p>
+
+<div class="p1"></div>
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">Volume III.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs180">The Hero of the Hills</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By G. WALDO BROWNE</p>
+
+<div class="p1"></div>
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">Volume I.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs180">The Woodranger</p>
+
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By G. WALDO BROWNE</p>
+
+<div class="p1"></div>
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">Volume II.</p>
+
+<p class="pfs180">The Young Gunbearer</p>
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By G. WALDO BROWNE</p>
+
+<p class="pfs100">Each large 12mo, cloth, fully illustrated, $1.00</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>There is the reality of history behind these stories,
+the successful series of "Woodranger Tales," the scope
+and trend of which are accurately set forth in the title.
+While full of adventure, the interest in which sometimes
+rises to the pitch of excitement, the stories are not sensational,
+for Mr. Browne writes with dignity, if with liveliness.
+The books will not fail to interest any lively,
+wholesome-minded boy.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="p4 pg-brk"></div>
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">NEW JUVENILES</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2a">
+<p class="pfs240 lsp">Prince Harold</p>
+
+<p class="pfs80">A FAIRY STORY</p>
+<br />
+<p class="pfs120 smcap">By L. F. BROWN</p>
+<br />
+<p class="pfs100"><em>With ninety full-page illustrations</em></p>
+<br />
+<p class="pfs100">Large 12mo, cloth, $1.50</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/sep2.jpg" width="25" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>A delightful fairy tale for children, dealing with the
+life of a charming young Prince, who, aided by the Moon
+Spirit, discovers, after many adventures, a beautiful girl
+whom he makes his Princess. He is so enamored that
+he dwells with his bride in complete seclusion for a
+while, entrusting the conduct of his kingdom meantime
+to his monkey servant, Longtail. The latter marries
+a monkey princess from Amfalulu, and their joint reign is
+described with the drollest humor. The real rulers
+finally return and upset the reign of the pretenders. An
+original and fascinating story for young people.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox2">
+<p class="pfs90">SEND FOR CIRCULARS, ETC.</p>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p class="p2 pfs135 pg-brk"><span class="smcap">L. C. Page &amp; Company's</span><br />
+Gift Book Series<br />
+<span class="xs">FOR</span><br />
+Boys and Girls</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="pfs80">Each one volume, tall 12mo, cloth, Illustrated, $1.00</p>
+
+<div class="figcenterx">
+<img src="images/sep1.jpg" width="20" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="advert">
+
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Little Colonel's House Party.</b> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows-Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Little Colonel," etc. Illustrated by E. B. Barry.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Mrs. Johnston has endeared herself to the children by her
+charming little books published in the Cosy Corner
+Series. Accordingly, a longer story by her will be
+eagerly welcomed by the little ones who have so much
+enjoyed each story from her pen.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Chums.</b> By <span class="smcap">Maria Louise Pool</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Little Bermuda," etc. Illustrated by L. J.
+Bridgman.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">"Chums" is a girls' book, about girls and for girls. It relates
+the adventures, in school, and during vacation, of
+two friends.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Three Little Crackers.</b> <span class="smcap">From Down in Dixie</span>. By <span class="smcap">Will
+Allen Dromgoole</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "The Farrier's Dog." A fascinating story for
+boys and girls, of the adventures of a family of Alabama
+children who move to Florida and grow up in the South.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Miss Gray's Girls:</b> <span class="smcap">or, Summer Days in the Scottish
+Highlands</span>. By <span class="smcap">Jeannette A. Grant</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A delightfully told story of a summer trip through Scotland,
+somewhat out of the beaten track. A teacher,
+starting at Glasgow, takes a lively party of girls, her
+pupils, through the Trossachs to Oban, through the
+Caledonian Canal to Inverness, and as far north as
+Brora.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>King Pippin:</b> <span class="smcap">A Story for Children</span>. By <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gerard
+Ford</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Pixie."</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">One of the most charming books for young folks which
+has been issued for some time. The hero is a lovable
+little fellow, whose frank and winning ways disarm even
+the crustiest of grandmothers, and win for him the affection
+of all manner of unlikely people.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Feats on the Fiord:</b> <span class="smcap">A Tale of Norwegian Life</span>. By
+<span class="smcap">Harriet Martineau</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This admirable book, read and enjoyed by so many young
+people, deserves to be brought to the attention of parents
+in search of wholesome reading for their children to-day.
+It is something more than a juvenile book, being really
+one of the most instructive books about Norway and
+Norwegian life and manners ever written.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Songs and Rhymes for the Little Ones.</b> Compiled by <span class="smcap">Mary
+Whitney Morrison</span> (Jenny Wallis).</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">New edition, with an introduction by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">No better description of this admirable book can be given
+than Mrs. Whitney's happy introduction:</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">"One might almost as well offer June roses with the assurance
+of their sweetness, as to present this lovely little
+gathering of verse, which announces itself, like them, by
+its own deliciousness. Yet, as Mrs. Morrison's charming
+volume has long been a delight to me, I am only too
+happy to declare that it is to me&mdash;and to two families
+of my grandchildren&mdash;the most bewitching book of
+songs for little people that we have ever known."</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Young Pearl Divers:</b> <span class="smcap">A Story of Australian Adventure
+by Land and by Sea</span>. By <span class="smcap">Lieut. H.
+Phelps Whitmarsh</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This is a splendid story for boys, by an author who writes
+in vigorous and interesting language, of scenes and adventures
+with which he is personally acquainted.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Woodranger.</b> By <span class="smcap">G. Waldo Browne</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The first of a series of five volumes entitled "The Woodranger
+Tales."</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Although based strictly on historical facts the book is an
+interesting and exciting tale of adventure, which will
+delight all boys, and be by no means unwelcome to their
+elders.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Three Children of Galilee:</b> <span class="smcap">A Life of Christ for the
+Young</span>. By <span class="smcap">John Gordon</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">There has long been a need for a Life of Christ for the
+young, and this book has been written in answer to this
+demand. That it will meet with great favor is beyond
+question, for parents have recognized that their boys and
+girls want something more than a Bible story, a dry
+statement of facts, and that, in order to hold the attention
+of the youthful readers, a book on this subject
+should have life and movement as well as scrupulous
+accuracy and religious sentiment.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Little Bermuda.</b> By <span class="smcap">Maria Louise Pool</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">Author of "Dally," "A Redbridge Neighborhood," "In a
+Dike Shanty," "Friendship and Folly," etc.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The adventures of "Little Bermuda" from her home in
+the tropics to a fashionable American boarding-school.
+The resulting conflict between the two elements in her
+nature, the one inherited from her New England ancestry,
+and the other developed by her West Indian surroundings,
+gave Miss Pool unusual opportunity for
+creating an original and fascinating heroine.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Wild Ruthvens:</b> <span class="smcap">A Home Story</span>. By <span class="smcap">Curtis York</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">A story illustrating the mistakes, failures, and successes of
+a family of unruly but warm-hearted boys and girls.
+They are ultimately softened and civilized by the influence
+of an invalid cousin, Dick Trevanion, who comes to
+live with them.</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>The Adventures of a Siberian Cub.</b> Translated from the
+Russian of Slibitski by <span class="smcap">Leon Golschmann</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">This is indeed a book which will be hailed with delight, especially
+by children who love to read about animals.
+The interesting and pathetic adventures of the orphan-bear,
+Mishook, will appeal to old and young in much the
+same way as have "Black Beauty" and "Beautiful Joe."</span></p>
+<div class="p1x"></div>
+<p><b>Timothy Dole.</b> By <span class="smcap">Juniata Salsbury</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="negin1">The youthful hero, and a genuine hero he proves to be,
+starts from home, loses his way, meets with startling adventures,
+finds friends, kind and many, and grows to be a
+manly man. It is a wholesome and vigorous book, that
+boys and girls, and parents as well, will read and enjoy.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="transnote pg-brk">
+<a name="TN" id="TN"></a>
+
+<p><strong>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</strong></p>
+
+<p>Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
+corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
+the text and consultation of external sources.</p>
+
+<p>Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
+and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. For example:
+writing-pad, writing pad; cocoanut; curtsey; beshawled.</p>
+
+<p>
+<a href="#Page_38">Pg 38</a>, 'Onct our washerwoman' replaced by 'Once our washerwoman'.<br />
+<a href="#Page_38">Pg 38</a>, 'Onct I took' replaced by 'Once I took'.<br />
+<a href="#Page_42">Pg 42</a>, 'Onct when cats come' replaced by 'Once when cats come'.<br />
+<a href="#Page_90">Pg 90</a>, 'dare the undarable' replaced by 'dare the undareable'.<br />
+<a href="#Page_163">Pg 163</a>, 'only onct a day?' replaced by 'only once a day?'.<br />
+<a href="#Page_180">Pg 180</a>, 'onct have blue eyes' replaced by 'once have blue eyes'.<br />
+<a href="#Page_269">Pg 269</a>, "You mus' he" replaced by "You mus' be".<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><a href="#PBC">Publisher's Book Catalog:</a><br />
+In the Cosy Corner Series, 'and announce four' replaced by 'and
+announce three'.</p>
+
+<p>A page from 'Gift Series for Boys and Girls' has been moved to its
+proper position at the end of that section. This page described
+'Three Children of Galilee' through 'Timothy Dole'.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of 'Tilda Jane, by Marshall Saunders
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 'TILDA JANE ***
+
+***** This file should be named 52018-h.htm or 52018-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/0/1/52018/
+
+Produced by David Edwards, John Campbell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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