Sancho sat at the open window, watching the oldcat wash her face, and trying to imitate her with hisgreat ruffled paw, so awkwardly that Ben laughed;and Sanch, to hide his confusion at being caught,made one bound from chair to bed, and licked hismaster's face so energetically that the boy dived underthe bedclothes to escape from the rough tongue.

 

　　A rap on the floor from below made both jump up,and in ten minutes a shiny-faced lad and a lively dogwent racing downstairs, -- one to say, "Good-mornin',ma'am," the other to wag his tail faster than evertail wagged before, for ham frizzled on the stove, andSancho was fond of it.

 

　　"Did you rest well? " asked Mrs. Moss, noddingat him, fork in hand.

 

　　"Guess I did! Never saw such a bed. I'm usedto hay and a horse-blanket, and lately nothin' but skyfor a cover and grass for my feather-bed," laughedBen, grateful for present comforts and making light ofpast hardships.

 

　　"Clean, sweet corn-husks ain't bad for young bones,even if they haven't got more flesh on them thanyours have," answered Mrs. Moss, giving the smoothhead a motherly stroke as she went by.

 

　　"Fat ain't allowed in our profession, ma'am. Thethinner the better for tight-ropes and tumblin';likewise bareback ridin' and spry jugglin'. Muscle's thething, and there you are."Ben stretched out a wiry little arm with a clenchedfist at the end of it, as if he were a young Hercules,ready to play ball with the stove if she gave him leave.

 

　　Glad to see him in such good spirits, she pointed tothe well outside, saying pleasantly, --"Well, then, just try your muscle by bringing insome fresh water."Ben caught up a pail and ran off, ready to be useful;but, while he waited for the bucket to fill downamong the mossy stones, he looked about him, wellpleased with all he saw, -- the small brown house witha pretty curl of smoke rising from its chimney, thelittle sisters sitting in the sunshine, green hills andnewly-planted fields far and near, a brook dancingthrough the orchard, birds singing in the elm avenue,and all the world as fresh and lovely as early summercould make it.

 

　　"Don't you think it's pretty nice here?" asked Bab,as his eye came back to them after a long look, whichseemed to take in every thing, brightening as it roved.

 

　　"Just the nicest place that ever was. Only needsa horse round somewhere to be complete," answeredBen, as the long well-sweep came up with a drippingbucket at one end, an old grindstone at the other.

 

　　"The judge has three, but he's so fussy about themhe won't even let us pull a few hairs out of old Major'stail to make rings of," said Betty, shutting her arithmetic,with an injured expression.

 

　　"Mike lets me ride the white one to water whenthe judge isn't round. It's such fun to go jouncingdown the lane and back. I do love horses!" criedBab, bobbing up and down on the blue bench toimitate the motion of white Jenny.

 

　　"I guess you are a plucky sort of a girl," and Bengave her an approving look as he went by, takingcare to slop a little water on Mrs. Puss, who stoodcurling her whiskers and humping up her back atSancho.

 

　　"Come to breakfast!" called Mrs. Moss; and forabout twenty minutes little was said, as mush andmilk vanished in a way that would have astonishedeven Jack the Giant-killer with his leather bag.

 

　　"Now, girls, fly round and get your chores done up;Ben, you go chop me some kindlings; and I'll makethings tidy. Then we can all start off at once," saidMrs. Moss, as the last mouthful vanished, and Sancholicked his lips over the savory scraps that fell to hisshare.

 

　　Ben fell to chopping so vigorously that chips flewwildly all about the shed; Bab rattled the cups intoher dish-pan with dangerous haste, and Betty raiseda cloud of dust "sweeping-up;" while mother seemedto be everywhere at once. Even Sanch, feeling thathis fate was at stake, endeavored to help in his ownsomewhat erratic way, -- now frisking about Ben atthe risk of getting his tail chopped off, then trottingaway to poke his inquisitive nose into every closetand room whither he followed Mrs. Moss in her "flyinground" evolutions; next dragging off the matso Betty could brush the door-steps, or inspectingBab's dish-washing by standing on his hind-legs tosurvey the table with a critical air. When they drovehim out he was not the least offended, but gaylybarked Puss up a tree, chased all the hens over thefence, and carefully interred an old shoe in the garden,where the remains of the mutton-bone were already buried.

 

　　By the time the others were ready, he had workedoff his superfluous spirits, and trotted behind the partylike a well-behaved dog accustomed to go out walking withladies. At the cross-roads they separated,the little girls running on to school, while Mrs. Mossand Ben went up to the Squire's big house on thehill.

 

　　"Don't you be scared, child. I'LL make it all rightabout your running away; and if the Squire givesyou a job, just thank him for it, and do your best tobe steady and industrious; then you'll get on, Ihaven't a doubt," she whispered, ringing the Ben ata side-door, on which the word "Morris" shone inbright letters.

 

　　"Come in!" called a gruff voice; and, feeling verymuch as if he were going to have a tooth out, Benmeekly followed the good woman, who put on herpleasantest smile, anxious to make the best possibleimpression.

 

　　A white-headed old gentleman sat reading a paper,and peered over his glasses at the new-comers with apair of sharp eyes, saying in a testy tone, which wouldhave rather daunted any one who did not know what akind heart he had under his capacious waistcoat, --"Good-morning, ma'am. What's the matter now?

 

　　Young tramp been stealing your chickens?""Oh, dear no, sir! " exclaimed Mrs. Moss, as ifshocked at the idea. Then, in a few words, she toldBen's story, unconsciously making his wrongs anddestitution so pathetic by her looks and tones, thatthe Squire could not help being interested, and evenBen pitied himself as if he were somebody else.

 

　　"Now, then, boy, what can you do?" asked theold gentleman, with an approving nod to Mrs. Mossas she finished, and such a keen glance from underhis bushy brows that Ben felt as if be was perfectlytransparent.

 

　　"'Most any thing, sir, to get my livin'.""Can you weed ? ""Never did, but I can learn, sir.""Pull up all the beets and leave the pigweed, hey?

 

　　Can you pick strawberries?""Never tried any thing but eatin' 'em, sir,""Not likely to forget that part of the job. Canyou ride a horse to plow?""Guess I could, sir!" -- and Ben's eyes began tosparkle, for he dearly loved the noble animals whohad been his dearest friends lately.

 

　　"No antics allowed. My horse is a fine fellow,and I'm very particular about him."The Squire spoke soberly, but there was a twinklein his eye, and Mrs. Moss tried not to smile; for theSquire's horse was a joke all over the town, beingabout twenty years old, and having a peculiar gait ofhis own, lifting his fore-feet very high, with a greatshow of speed, though never going out of a jog-trot.

 

　　The boys used to say he galloped before and walkedbehind, and made all sorts of fun of the big, Roman-nosed beast, who allowed no liberties to be takenwith him.

 

　　"I'm too fond of horses to hurt 'em, Sir. As forridin', I ain't afraid of any thing on four legs. TheKing of Morocco used to kick and bite like fun, butI could manage him first-rate.""Then you'd be able to drive cows to pasture,perhaps?""I've drove elephants and camels, ostriches andgrizzly bears, and mules, and six yellow ponies all tooncet. May be I could manage cows if I tried hard,"answered Ben, endeavoring to be meek and respectfulwhen scorn filled his soul at the idea of not beingable to drive a cow.

 

　　The Squire liked him all the better for the drollmixture of indignation and amusement betrayed bythe fire in his eyes and the sly smile round his lips; and beingrather tickled by Ben's list of animals, he answered gravely, --"Don't raise elephants and camels much roundhere. Bears used to be plenty, but folks got tired ofthem. Mules are numerous, but we have the two-legged kind;and as a general thing prefer Shanghae fowls to ostriches."He got no farther, for Ben laughed out so infectiously that boththe others joined him; and somehow that jolly laugh seemed tosettle matters than words. As they stopped, the Squire tapped onthe window behind him, saying, with an attempt atthe former gruffness, --"We'll try you on cows awhile. My man willshow you where to drive them, and give you someodd jobs through the day. I'll see what you aregood for, and send you word to-night, Mrs. Moss.

 

　　The boy can sleep at your house, can't he?""Yes, indeed, sir. He can go on doing it, andcome up to his work just as well as not. I can seeto him then, and he won't be a care to any one," saidMrs. Moss, heartily.

 

　　"I'll make inquiries concerning your father, boy;meantime mind what you are about, and have a goodreport to give when he comes for you," returned theSquire, with a warning wag of a stern fore-finger.

 

　　"Thanky', sir. I will, sir. Father'll come just assoon as he can, if he isn't sick or lost," murmuredBen, inwardly thanking his stars that he had not doneany thing to make him quake before that awful finger,and resolved that he never would.

 

　　Here a red-headed Irishman came to the door, andstood eying the boy with small favor while the Squiregave his orders.

 

　　"Pat, this lad wants work. He's to take the cowsand go for them. Give him any light jobs you have,and let me know if he's good for any thing.""Yis, your honor. Come out o' this, b'y, till Ishow ye the bastes," responded Pat; and, with ahasty good-by to Mrs. Moss, Ben followed his newleader, sorely tempted to play some naughty trickupon him in return for his ungracious reception.

 

　　But in a moment he forgot that Pat existed, forin the yard stood the Duke of Wellington, so namedin honor of his Roman nose. If Ben had known anything about Shakespeare, he would have cried, "Ahorse, a horse! my kingdom for a horse!" for thefeeling was in his heart, and he ran up to the statelyanimal without a fear. Duke put back his ears andswished his tail as if displeased for a moment; butBen looked straight in his eyes, gave a scientificstroke to the iron-gray nose, and uttered a chirrupwhich made the ears prick up as if recognizing afamiliar sound.

 

　　"He'll nip ye, if ye go botherin' that way. Leavehim alone, and attend to the cattle as his honor toldye," commanded Pat, who made a great show ofrespect toward Duke in public, and kicked himbrutally in private.

 

　　"I ain't afraid! You won't hurt me, will you, oldfeller? See there now! -- he knows I 'm a friend, andtakes to me right off," said Ben, with an arm aroundDuke's neck, and his own cheek confidingly laidagainst the animal's; for the intelligent eyes spoke tohim as plainly as the little whinny which he understoodand accepted as a welcome.

 

　　The Squire saw it all from the open window, andsuspecting from Pat's face that trouble was brewing,called out, --"Let the lad harness Duke, if he can. I'm goingout directly, and he may as well try that as anything."Ben was delighted, and proved himself so brisk andhandy that the roomy chaise stood at the door in asurprisingly short time, with a smiling little ostler atDuke's head when the Squire came out.

 

　　His affection for the horse pleased the old gentleman,and his neat way of harnessing suited as well;but Ben got no praise, except a nod and a brief "Allright, boy," as the equipage went creaking and jogging away.

 

　　Four sleek cows filed out of the barnyard when Patopened the gate, and Ben drove them down the roadto a distant pasture where the early grass awaitedtheir eager cropping. By the school they went, andthe boy looked pityingly at the black, brown, andyellow heads bobbing past the windows as a classwent up to recite; for it seemed a hard thing to theliberty-loving lad to be shut up there so many hourson a morning like that.

 

　　But a little breeze that was playing truant roundthe steps did Ben a service without knowing it, for asudden puff blew a torn leaf to his feet, and seeing apicture he took it up. It evidently had fallen fromsome ill-used history, for the picture showed somequeer ships at anchor, some oddly dressed men justlanding, and a crowd of Indians dancing about onthe shore. Ben spelt out all be could about theseinteresting personages, but could not discover what itmeant, because ink evidently had deluged the page,to the new reader's great disappointment.

 

　　"I'll ask the girls; may be they will know," saidBen to himself as, after looking vainly for more strayleaves, he trudged on, enjoying the bobolink's song,the warm sunshine, and a comfortable sense of friendlinessand safety, which soon set him to whistling asgayly as any blackbird in the meadow.