Under Sealed Orders. H. A. Cody
I suppose the oldest go to school."
"Naw. They never saw the inside of a school house."
"You don't say so!" and David looked his astonishment. "Surely there must be a school near here."
"Oh, yes, there's a school all right, but they've never gone. I don't set any store by eddication. What good is it to any one, I'd like to know? Will it help a man to hoe a row of pertaters, or a woman to bake bread? Now, look at me. I've no eddication, an' yit I've got a good place here, an' a bank account. You've got eddication, so I understand, an' what good is it to you? I'm one of the biggest tax-payers in the parish, an' you, why yer nothing but a pauper, the Devil's Poor."
At this cruel reminder David shrank back as from a blow, and never uttered another word during the rest of the meal. The iron was entering into his soul, and he was beginning to understand something of the ignominy he was to endure at this house.
"Now look here," Jim began when they were through with dinner, "I've a big pile of wood out there in the yard, an' I want ye to tote it into the wood-house an' pile it up. I'll show ye where to put it. I'm gittin' mighty little fer yer keep, an' I expect ye to git a hustle on to help pay fer yer grub an' washin'."
"Don't be too hard on him, Jim," Mrs. Goban remarked. "He doesn't look very strong."
"Don't ye worry, Kitty, I'll attend to that. I know a wrinkle or two."
David was accordingly taken to the wood-house and Jim explained to him how and where he was to pile the wood. "Ye needn't kill yerself," he told him in conclusion. "But I want ye to keep busy, fer when that job's through I've got something else on hand. Ye can sit down when ye feel a little tired, but don't sit too long or too often, see?"
For about half an hour David worked patiently at the wood, piling it as neatly as possible. The work was not hard, and he was quite satisfied with his task. He was alone, anyway, and could think about his beloved falls. His hands, however, were soft, and ere long they were bruised and bleeding from the rough sticks. At length a sharp splinter entered his finger, and he sat down upon a stick to pull it out. In trying to do this, it broke off leaving a portion deeply embedded in the flesh, which caused him considerable pain. Not knowing what to do, he sat looking upon the finger in a dejected manner.
"What's the matter? You seem to be in trouble."
At these words David looked quickly around, and saw a young girl standing by his side. Though her dress was old and worn, her face was bright, and her eyes sparkled with interest.
"Here, let me take that splinter out," she ordered, as she sat down by
his side, and drawing forth a needle, began to probe into the flesh.
"There, I've got it!" she cried in triumph. "My! it's a monster.
You'll have to be more careful after this. You should have gloves."
"Thank you very much," David replied. "To whom am I indebted for this kindness?"
"Oh, I'm Betty Bean, that's all."
"And you live here?"
"No. I'm just dying here."
"Dying!" David exclaimed in surprise. "Why, you don't look like a dying person."
"Maybe I don't, but I am. I'm just staying here because I have to. My mother's a widow, and I want to earn some money to help her, and as this was the only place I could get I had to take it."
"So you do not like it, then?"
"Who would like any place where there is such a brute as Jim Goban?
My, I'm sorry for you. To think of any man getting into his clutches."
"But surely I won't be any worse off than you are."
"I'm not so sure about that. You see, I'm about boss here, and do and say just what I like."
"How's that?"
"Well, I'm the only person Jim can get to work here. All the girls for miles around know what kind of a creature he is, and they wouldn't come for any amount of money. They're scared to death of him. But I'm not, and I tell him right to his face what I think of him, and the way he treats his poor wife. He would like to horsewhip me, but he knows that if I leave no one else would come in my place. But I'm glad now that I am here so I can look after you."
"Look after me!"
"Yes. I guess you'll need me all right. I know who you are, and I'm sorry for you. I'm going to stand between you and Jim Goban. He's scared to death of me, for I'm the only one who dares give him a tongue-lashing, and I do it whenever it is necessary, which is quite often."
"You're a brave girl," and David looked with admiration upon the slight form by his side. "How old are you?"
"Fifteen last March. But one's age is nothing. I've done a woman's work ever since I was ten. I stand up for my rights now, though. When I first came here Jim was bound that I should work all the time. But at last I told him that I was going to have every Saturday afternoon off, especially in summer, so I could go home or out upon the river. Can you row?" she suddenly asked.
"A little," was the reply.
"That's good. Now, look, I'm going to take you out in the boat next
Saturday, and you're going to meet somebody there you'll like."
"Somebody I like," David repeated. "Who is it?"
"It's a woman, that's who it is. But I'm not going to tell you her name. She only came here last week, and she is so fond of the water, and spends so much time upon it. Oh, you'll like her when you see her. She's a beauty, with such lovely eyes and dark hair. And she's not a bit stuck up, either. She just talks in a friendly way, and makes you feel easy all over. There, now, I guess you'd better pile some more wood. I have a bit of work to do, and when I'm through I'll come out and give you a hand. I like to be with you. I know we're going to be friends."
The girl rose, and was about to leave. She paused, however, and looked inquiringly into the old man's face.
"Do you smoke?" she asked.
Into David's eyes came an eager expression, which Betty was not slow to see.
"I know you do," she cried, "but you have no tobacco."
"I have a pipe," and David fumbled into a pocket of his coat. "But I haven't had a smoke for weeks, because——"
"I know, I know," the girl hastily replied. "I'll get you some in a jiffy."
She was gone only a short time when she returned, and handed David half a fig of tobacco.
"There, take that," she said. "It's a piece Jim left on the kitchen window-sill."
"But is it right for me to take it?" David asked.
"Sure it's right. Didn't Jim agree to feed and lodge you for one year? You can't live without tobacco. It's a part of your food, see? If Jim says anything about it, I'll soon settle him."
"You are a good girl," David returned, as with trembling hands he hastily whittled off a few slices of tobacco with an old knife, and filled his pipe. "This will put new life into me. I can never repay you for your kindness."
CHAPTER III
ONE, AT LEAST, RINGS TRUE
With the small boat pulled well upon the beach, Lois Sinclair stood for a few moments looking out over the water. Her eyes were fixed upon a little boat in the distance containing two people, an old man and a young girl. The wind, which was steadily increasing, tossed her wavy, luxuriant hair over her brow, while several tresses fell across her cheeks, flushed by the recent rowing. She knew that she should be home, for supper would be waiting and her father would be impatient. But she