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diff --git a/old/52018-8.txt b/old/52018-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c60f4d4..0000000 --- a/old/52018-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7578 +0,0 @@ -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 - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 'TILDA JANE *** - -***** This file should be named 52018-8.txt or 52018-8.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 -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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