Sancho seemed to understand that his master wasin trouble, and listened to the sad little story withgurgles of interest, whines of condolence, and intelligentbarks whenever the word "daddy " was uttered. He was onlya brute, but his dumb affection comforted the boy morethan any words; for Sanch had known and loved "father"almost as long and well as his son, and that seemed todraw them closely together, now they were left alone.

 

　　"We must put on mourning, old feller. It's theproper thing, and there's nobody else to do it now,"said Ben, as he dressed, remembering how all thecompany wore bits of crape somewhere about themat 'Melia's funeral.

 

　　It was a real sacrifice of boyish vanity to take theblue ribbon with its silver anchors off the new hat,and replace it with the dingy black band from theold one; but Ben was quite sincere in doing this,though doubtless his theatrical life made him thinkof the effect more than other lads would have done.

 

　　He could find nothing in his limited wardrobe withwhich to decorate Sanch except a black cambricpocket. It was already half torn out of his trouserswith the weight of nails, pebbles, and other lighttrifles; so he gave it a final wrench and tied itinto the dog's collar, saying to himself, as he putaway his treasures, with a sigh,--"One pocket is enough; I sha'n't want anythingbut a han'k'chi'f to-day."Fortunately, that article of dress was clean, for hehad but one; and, with this somewhat ostentatiouslydrooping from the solitary pocket, the serious hatupon his head, the new shoes creaking mournfully,and Sanch gravely following, much impressed withhis black bow, the chief mourner descended, feelingthat he had done his best to show respect to thedead.

 

　　Mrs. Moss's eyes filled as she saw the rusty band,and guessed why it was there; but she found it difficultto repress a smile when she beheld the cambricsymbol of woe on the dog's neck. Not a word wassaid to disturb the boy's comfort in these poor attempts,however; and he went out to do his chores, conscious thathe was an object of interest to his friends, especially soto Bab and Betty, who, havinq been told of Ben's loss, nowregarded him with a sort of pitying awe very grateful to hisfeelings.

 

　　"I want you to drive me to church by-and-by.

 

　　It is going to be pretty warm, and Thorny is hardlystrong enough to venture yet," said Miss Celia, whenBen ran over after breakfast to see if she had anything for him to do; for he considered her his mistressnow, though he was not to take possession ofhis new quarters till the morrow.

 

　　"Yes, 'm, I'd like to, if I look well enough,"answered Ben, pleased to be asked, but impressedwith the idea that people had to be very fine onsuch occasions.

 

　　"You will do very well when I have given you atouch. God doesn't mind our clothes, Ben, and thepoor are as welcome as the rich to him. You havenot been much, have you?" asked Miss Celia, anxiousto help the boy, and not quite sure how to begin.

 

　　"No, 'm; our folks didn't hardly ever go, andfather was so tired he used to rest Sundays, or gooff in the woods with me."A little quaver came into Ben's voice as he spoke,and a sudden motion made his hat-brim hide his eyes,for the thought of the happy times that would nevercome any more was almost too much for him.

 

　　"That was a pleasant way to rest. I often do so,and we will go to the grove this afternoon and try it.

 

　　But I have to go to church in the morning,; it seems tostart me right for the week; and if one has a sorrowthat is the place where one can always find comfort.

 

　　Will you come and try it, Ben, dear?""I'd do any thing to please you," muttered Ben,without looking up; for, though he felt her kindnessto the bottom of his heart, he did wish that no onewould talk about father for a little while; it was sohard to keep from crying, and he hated to be ababy.

 

　　Miss Celia seemed to understand, for the next thingshe said, in a very cheerful tone, was, "See what apretty sight that is. When I was a little girl I usedto think spiders spun cloth for the fairies, and spreadit on the grass to bleach."Ben stopped digging a hole in the ground with histoe, and looked up, to see a lovely cobweb like awheel, circle within circle, spun across a corner ofthe arch over the gate. Tiny drops glittered on everythread as the light shone through the gossamer curtain,and a soft breath of air made it tremble as ifabout to blow it away.

 

　　"It's mighty pretty, but it will fly off. just as theothers did. I never saw such a chap as that spideris. He keeps on spinning a new one every day, forthey always get broke. and he don't seem to bediscouraged a mite," said Ben, glad to change thesubject, as she knew he would be.

 

　　"That is the way he gets his living. he spins hisweb and waits for his daily bread, -- or fly, rather;and it always comes, I fancy. By-and-by you willsee that pretty trap full of insects, and Mr. Spiderwill lay up his provisions for the day. After that hedoesn't care how soon his fine web blows away.""I know him; he's a handsome feller, all blackand yellow, and lives up in that corner where theshiny sort of hole is. He dives down the minute Itouch the gate, but comes up after I've kept still aminute. I like to watch him. But he must hate me,for I took away a nice green fly and some littlemillers one day.""Did you ever hear the story of Bruce and hisspider? Most children know and like that," saidMiss Celia, seeing that he seemed interested.

 

　　"No, 'm ; I don't know ever so many things mostchildren do," answered Ben, soberly; for, since hehad been among his new friends, he had often felthis own deficiencies.

 

　　"Ah, but you also know many things which theydo not. Half the boys in town would give a greatdeal to be able to ride and run and leap as you do;and even the oldest are not as capable of taking careof themselves as you are. Your active life has donemuch in some ways to make a man of you; but inother ways it was bad, as I think you begin to see.

 

　　Now, suppose you try to forget the harmful part, andremember only the good, while learning to be morelike our boys, who go to school and church, and fitthemselves to become industrious, honest men."Ben had been looking straight up in Miss Celia'sface as she spoke, feeling that every word was true,though he could not have expressed it if he hadtried; and, when she paused, with her bright eyesinquiringly fixed on his, he answered heartily,--"I'd like to stay here and be respectable; for,since I came, I've found out that folks don't thinkmuch of circus riders, though they like to go and see'em. I didn't use to care about school and suchthings, but I do now; and I guess he'd like it betterthan to have me knockin' round that way without himto look after me.""I know he would; so we will try, Benny. I daresay it will seem dull and hard at first, after the gaysort of life you have led, and you will miss the excitement.

 

　　But it was not good for you, and we will do our best to findsomething safer. Don't be discouraged; and, when things troubleyou, come to me as Thorny does, and I'll try to straighten themout for you. I've got two boys now, and I want todo my duty by both."Before Ben had time for more than a grateful look,a tumbled head appeared at an upper window, and asleepy voice drawled out, --"Celia! I can't find a bit of a shoe-string, and Iwish you'd come and do my neck-tie.""Lazy boy, come down here, and bring one ofyour black ties with you. Shoe-strings are in thelittle brown bag on my bureau," called back MissCelia; adding, with a laugh, as the tumbled headdisappeared mumbling something about "botheringold bags, "Thorny has been half spoiled since hewas ill. You mustn't mind his fidgets and dawdling ways.

 

　　He'll get over them soon, and then I know you twowill be good friends."Ben had his doubts about that, but resolved todo his best for her sake; so, when Master Thornypresently appeared, with a careless "How are you,Ben?" that young person answered respectfully, --"Very well, thank you," though his nod was ascondescending as his new master's; because he feltthat a boy who could ride bareback and turn adouble somersault in the air ought not to "knuckleunder" to a fellow who had not the strength of apussy-cat.

 

　　"Sailor's knot, please; keeps better so," saidThorny, holding up his chin to have a blue-silk scarftied to suit him, for he was already beginning to besomething of a dandy.

 

　　"You ought to wear red till you get more color,dear;" and his sister rubbed her blooming cheekagainst his pale one, as if to lend him some of herown roses.

 

　　"Men don't care how they look," said Thorny,squirming out of her hold, for he hated to be"cuddled" before people.

 

　　"Oh, don't they? Here 's a vain boy who brusheshis hair a dozen times a day, and quiddles over hiscollar till he is so tired he can hardly stand," laughedMiss Celia, with a little tweak of his ear.

 

　　"I should like to know what this is for? " demandedThorny, in a dignified tone, presenting a black tie.

 

　　"For my other boy. He is going to church withme," and Miss Celia tied a second knot for this younggentleman, with a smile that seemed to brighten upeven the rusty hat-band.

 

　　"Well, I like that--" began Thorny, in a tonethat contradicted his words.

 

　　A look from his sister reminded him of what shehad told him half an hour ago, and he stopped short,understanding now why she was "extra good to thelittle tramp.""So do I, for you are of no use as a driver yet,and I don't like to fasten Lita when I have my bestgloves on," said Miss Celia, in a tone that rathernettled Master Thorny.

 

　　"Is Ben going to black my boots before he goes?

 

　　with a glance at the new shoes which caused them tocreak uneasily.

 

　　"No; he is going to black mine, if he will be so kind.

 

　　You won't need boots for a week yet, so wewon't waste any time over them. You will findevery thing in the shed, Ben; and at ten you may gofor Lita."With that, Miss Celia walked her brother off to thediningroom, and Ben retired to vent his ire in suchenergetic demonstrations with the blacking-brush thatthe little boots shone splendidly.

 

　　He thought he had never seen any thing as prettyas his mistress when, an hour later, she came out ofthe house in her white shawl and bonnet, holding abook and a late lily-of-the-valley in the pearl-coloredgloves, which he hardly dared to touch as he helpedher into the carriage. He had seen a good many fineladies in his life; and those he had known had beenvery gay in the colors of their hats and gowns, veryfond of cheap jewelry, and much given to feathers,lace, and furbelows; so it rather puzzled him to discoverwhy Miss Celia looked so sweet and elegant insuch a simple suit. He did not then know that thecharm was in the woman, not the clothes; or thatmerely living near such a person would do more togive him gentle manners, good principles, and purethoughts, than almost any other training he couldhave had. But he was conscious that it was pleasantto be there, neatly dressed, in good company, andgoing to church like a respectable boy. Somehow,the lonely feeling got better as be rolled alongbetween green fields, with the June sunshine brighteningevery thing, a restful quiet in the air, and a friendbeside him who sat silently looking out at the lovelyworld with what he afterward learned to call her"Sunday face," -- a soft, happy look, as if all thework and weariness of the past week were forgotten,and she was ready to begin afresh when this blessedday was over.

 

　　"Well, child, what is it?" she asked, catching hiseye as he stole a shy glance at her, one of many whichshe had not seen.

 

　　"I was only thinking, you looked as if --""As if what? Don't be afraid," she said, for Benpaused and fumbled at the reins, feeling half ashamedto tell his fancy.

 

　　"You were saying prayers," he added, wishingshe had not caught him.

 

　　"So I was. Don't you, when you are happy?

 

　　"No,'m. I'm glad, but I don't say any thing.""Words are not needed; but they help, sometimes,if they are sincere and sweet. Did you never learnany prayers, Ben?""Only 'Now I lay me.' Grandma taught me thatwhen I was a little mite of a boy.""I will teach you another, the best that was evermade, because it says all we need ask.""Our folks wasn't very pious; they didn't havetime, I s'pose.""I wonder if you know just what it means to bepious?""Goin' to church, and readin' the Bible, and sayin'

 

　　prayers and hymns, ain't it?""Those things are a part of it; but being kind andcheerful, doing one's duty, helping others, and lovingGod, is the best way to show that we are pious in thetrue sense of the word.""Then you are! " and Ben looked as if her acts hadbeen a better definition than her words.

 

　　"I try to be, but I very often fail; so every SundayI make new resolutions, and work hard to keep themthrough the week. That is a great help, as you willfind when you begin to try it.""Do you think if I said in meetin', ' I won't everswear any more,' that I wouldn't do it again?" askedBen, soberly; for that was his besetting sin just now.

 

　　"I'm afraid we can't get rid of our faults quite soeasily; I wish we could: but I do believe that if youkeep saying that, and trying to stop, you will cure thehabit sooner than you think.""I never did swear very bad, and I didn't mindmuch till I came here; but Bab and Betty looked soscared when I said 'damn,' and Mrs. Moss scoldedme so, I tried to leave off. It's dreadful hard, though,when I get mad. 'Hang it!' don't seem half so goodif I want to let off steam.""Thorny used to 'confound!' every thing, so Iproposed that he should whistle instead; and now hesometimes pipes up so suddenly and shrilly that itmakes me jump. How would that do, instead ofswearing?" proposed Miss Celia, not the least surprisedat the habit of profanity, which the boy couldhardly help learning among his former associates.

 

　　Ben laughed, and promised to try it, feeling a mischievoussatisfaction at the prospect of out-whistlingMaster Thorny, as he knew he should; for the objectionablewords rose to his lips a dozen times a day.

 

　　The Ben was ringing as they drove into town; and,by the time Lita was comfortably settled in her shed,people were coming up from all quarters to clusteraround the steps of the old meeting-house like beesabout a hive. Accustomed to a tent, where peoplekept their hats on, Ben forgot all about his, and wasgoing down the aisle covered, when a gentle handtook it off, and Miss Celia whispered, as she gave itto him, --"This is a holy place; remember that, and uncoverat the door."Much abashed, Ben followed to the pew, where theSquire and his wife soon joined them.

 

　　"Glad to see him here," said the old gentlemanwith an appioving nod, as he recognized the boy andremembered his loss.

 

　　"Hope he won't nestle round in meeting-time,"whispered Mrs. Allen, composing herself in the cornerwith much rustling of black silk.

 

　　"I'll take care that he doesn't disturb you," answeredMiss Celia, pushing a stool under the shortlegs, and drawing a palm-leaf fan within reach.

 

　　Ben gave an inward sigh at the prospect beforehim; for an hour's captivity to an active lad is hardto bear, and he really did want to behave well. Sohe folded his arms and sat like a statue, with nothingmoving but his eyes. They rolled to and fro, up anddown, from the high red pulpit to the worn hymnbooksin the rack, recognizing two little faces underblue-ribboned hats in a distant pew, and finding itimpossible to restrain a momentary twinkle in returnfor the solemn wink Billy Barton bestowed upon himacross the aisle. Ten minutes of this decorous demeanormade it absolutely necessary for him to stir;so he unfolded his arms and crossed his legs ascautiously as a mouse moves in the presence of acat; for Mrs. Allen's eye was on him, and he............