________________________________________________
_ Putting all care behind them, the young folks
ran down the hill, with a very lively dog gambolling
beside them, and took a delightfully
tantalizing survey of the external charms of the big
tent. But people were beginning to go in, and it
was impossible to delay when they came round to
the entrance.
Ben felt that now "his foot was on his native
heath," and the superb air of indifference with which
he threw down his dollar at the ticket-office, carelessly
swept up the change, and strolled into the tent
with his hands in his pockets, was so impressive that
even big Sam repressed his excitement and meekly
followed their leader, as he led them from cage to
cage, doing the honors as if he owned the whole concern.
Bab held tight to the flap of his jacket, staring
about her with round eyes, and listening with
little gasps of astonishment or delight to the roaring
of lions, the snarling of tigers, the chatter of the
monkeys, the groaning of camels, and the music of
the very brass band shut up in a red bin.
Five elephants were tossing their hay about in the
middle of the menagerie, and Billy's legs shook under
him as he looked up at the big beasts whose long
noses and small, sagacious eyes filled him with awe.
Sam was so tickled by the droll monkeys that the
others left him before the cage and went on to see
the zebra, "striped just like Ma's muslin gown," Bab
declared. But the next minute she forgot all about
him in her raptures over the ponies and their tiny
colts; especially one mite of a thing who lay asleep
on the hay, such a miniature copy of its little mouse-colored
mamma that one could hardly believe it was alive.
"Oh, Ben, I must feel of it! -- the cunning baby
horse!" and down went Bab inside the rope to pat
and admire the pretty creature, while its mother
smelt suspiciously at the brown hat, and baby lazily
opened one eye to see what was going on.
"Come out of that, it isn't allowed" commanded
Ben, longing to do the same thing, but mindful of the
proprieties and his own dignity.
Bab reluctantly tore herself away to find consolation
in watching the young lions, who looked so like
big puppies, and the tigers washing their faces just
as puss did.
"If I stroked 'em, wouldn't they purr?" she
asked, bent on enjoying herself, while Ben held her
skirts lest she should try the experiment.
"You'd better not go to patting them, or you'll
get your hands clawed up. Tigers do purr like fun
when they are happy, but these fellers never are, and
you'll only see 'em spit and snarl," said Ben, leading
the way to the humpy carrels, who were peacefully
chewing their cud and longing for the desert,
with a dreamy, far-away look in their mournful eyes.
Here, leaning on the rope, and scientifically biting
a straw while he talked, Ben played showman to his
heart's content till the neigh of a horse from the
circus tent beyond reminded him of the joys to come.
"We'd better hurry along and get good seats before
folks begin to crowd. I want to sit near the curtain
and see if any of Smitthers's lot are 'round."
"I ain't going way off there; you can't see half so
well, and that big drum makes such a noise you can't
hear yourself think," said Sam, who had rejoined
them.
So they settled in good places where they could
see and hear all that went on in the ring and still
catch glimpses of white horses, bright colors, and the
glitter of helmets beyond the dingy red curtains. Ben
treated Bab to peanuts and pop-corn like an indulgent
parent, and she murmured protestations of undying
gratitude with her mouth full, as she sat blissfully
between him and the congenial Billy.
Sancho, meantime, had been much excited by the
familiar sights and sounds, and now was greatly exercised
in his doggish mind at the unusual proceeding
of his master; for he was sure that they ought to be
within there, putting on their costumes, ready to take
their turn. He looked anxiously at Ben, sniffed
disdainfully at the strap as if to remind him that a
scarlet ribbon ought to take its place, and poked peanut
shells about with his paw as if searching for the letters
with which to spell his famous name.
"I know, old boy, I know; but it can't be done.
We've quit the busin'ess and must just look on. No
larks for us this time, Sanch, so keep quiet and behave,'
whispered Ben, tucking the dog away under
the seat with a sympathetic cuddle of the curly head
that peeped out from between his feet.
"He wants to go and cut up, don't he?" said Billy,
"and so do you, I guess. Wish you were going
to. Wouldn't it be fun to see Ben showing off in
there?"
"I'd be afraid to have him go up on a pile of elephants
and jump through hoops like these folks," answered
Bab, poring over her pictured play-bill with
unabated relish.
"Done it a hundred times, and I'd just like to
show you what I can do. They don't seem to have
any boys in this lot; shouldn't wonder if they'd take
me if I asked 'em," said Ben, moving uneasily on his
seat and casting wistful glances toward the inner tent
where he knew he would feel more at home than in
his present place.
"I heard some men say that it's against the law to
have small boys now; it's so dangerous and not good
for them, this kind of thing. If that's so, you're done
for, Ben," observed Sam, with his most grown-up air,
remembering Ben's remarks on "fat boys."
"Don't believe a word of it, and Sanch and I could
go this minute and get taken on, I'll bet. We are a
valuable couple, and I could prove it if I chose to,"
began Ben, getting excited and boastful.
"Oh, see, they're coming! -- gold carriages and
lovely horses, and flags and elephants, and every
thing, cried Bab, giving a clutch at Ben's arm as
the opening procession appeared headed by the band,
tooting and banging till their faces were as red as
their uniforms.
Round and round they went till every one had seen
their fill, then the riders alone were left caracoling
about the ring with feathers flying, horses prancing,
and performers looking as tired and indifferent as if
they would all like to go to sleep then and there.
"How splendid!" sighed Bab, as they went dashing out,
to tumble off almost before the horses stopped.
"That's nothing! You wait till you see the bareback
riding and the 'acrobatic exercises,' " said Ben,
quoting from the play-bill, with the air of one who
knew all about the feats to come, and could never be
surprised any more.
"What are 'crowbackic exercises'?" asked Billy,
thirsting for information.
"Leaping and climbing and tumbling; you'll see
George! what a stunning horse!" and Ben forgot
every thing else to feast his eyes on the handsome
creature who now came pacing in to dance, upset
and replace chairs, kneel, bow, and perform many
wonderful or graceful feats, ending with a swift gallop
while the rider sat in a chair on its back fanning
himself, with his legs crossed, as comfortably as you
please.
"That, now, is something like," and Ben's eyes shone
with admiration and envy as the pair vanished, and the
pink and silver acrobats came leaping into the ring.
The boys were especially interested in this part,
and well they might be; for strength and agility are
manly attributes which lads appreciate, and these
lively fellows flew about like India-rubber balls, each
trying to outdo the other, till the leader of the acrobats
capped the climax by turning a double somersault
over five elephants standing side by side.
"There, Sir, how's that for a jump?" asked Ben,
rubbing his hands with satisfaction as his friends
clapped till their palms tingled.
"We'll rig up a spring-board and try it," said
Billy, fired with emulation.
"Where'll you get your elephants?" asked Sam,
scornfully. for gymnastics were not in his line.
"You'll do for one," retorted Ben, and Billy and
Bab joined in his laugh so heartily that a rough-
looking, man who sat behind them, hearing all they
said, pronounced them a "jolly set," and kept his eye
on Sancho, who now showed signs of insubordination.
"Hullo, that wasn't on the bill!" cried Ben, as a
parti-colored clown came in, followed by half a dozen
dogs.
"I'm so glad; now Sancho will like it. There's a
poodle that might be his ownty donty brother -- the
one with the blue ribbon," said Bab. beaming with delight
as the dogs took their seats in the chairs arranged
for them.
Sancho did like it only too well, for be scrambled
out from under the seat in a great hurry to go and
greet his friends; and, being sharply checked, sat up
and begged so piteously that Ben found it very hard
to refuse and order him down. He subsided for a
moment, but when the black spaniel, who acted the
canine clown, did something funny and was applauded,
Sancho made a dart as if bent on leaping into the
ring to outdo his rival, and Ben was forced to box
his ears and put his feet on the poor beast, fearing he
would be ordered out if he made any disturbance.
Too well trained to rebel again, Sancho lay meditating
on his wrongs till the dog act was over, carefully
abstaining from any further sign of interest in
their tricks, and only giving a sidelong g;ance at the
two little poodles who came out of a basket to run
up and down stairs on their fore-paws, dance jigs on
their hind-legs, and play various pretty pranks to the
great delight of all the children in the audience. If
ever a dog expressed by look and attitude, "Pooh!
I could fo much better than that, and astonish you
all, if I were only allowed to," that dog was Sancho,
as he curled himself up and affected to turn his back
on an unappreciative world.
"It's too bad, when he knows motr than all those
chaps put together. I'd give any thing if I could
show him off as I used to. Folks always like it, and
I was ever so proud of him. He's mad now because
I had to cuff him, and won't take any notice of me
till I make up," said Ben, regretfully eying his offended
friend, but not daring to beg pardon yet.
More riding followed, and Bab was kept in a breathless
state by the marvellous agility and skill of the
gauzy lady who drove four horses at once, leaped
through hoops, over banners and bars, sprang off and
on at full speed, and seemed to enjoy it all so much
it was impossible to believe that there could be any
danger or exertion in it. Then two girls flew about
on the trapeze, and walked on a tight rope, causing
Bab to feel that she had at last found her sphere; for,
young as she was, her mother often said,
"I really don't know what this child is fit for, except
mischief, like a monkey."
"I'll fix the clothes-line when I get home, and
show Ma how nice it is. Then, may be, she'd let me
wear red and gold trousers, and climb round like
these girls," thought the busy little brain, much excited
by all it saw on that memorable day.
Nothing short of a pyramid of elephants with a
glittering gentleman in a turban and top boots on the
summit would have made her forget this new and
charming plan. But that astonishing spectacle, and
the prospect of a cage of Bengal tigers with a man
among them, in immenent danger of being eaten
before her eyes, entirely absorbed her thoughts till,
just as the big animals went lumbering out, a peal of
thunder caused considerable commotion in the audience.
Men on the highest seats popped their heads
through the openings in the tent-cover and reported
that a heavy shower was coming up. Anxious mothers
began to collect their flocks of children as hens do
their chickens at sunset; timid people told cheerful
stories of tents blown over in gales, cages upset and
wild beasts let loose. Many left in haste, and the
performers hurried to finish as soon as possible.
"I'm going now before the crowd comes, so I can
get a lift home. I see two or three folks I know, so
I'm off;" and, climbing hastily down, Sam vanished
without further ceremony.
"Better wait till the shower is over. We can go
and see the animals again, and get home all dry, just
as well as not," observed Ben, encouraginly, as Billy
looked anxiously at the billowing canvas over his
head, the swaying posts before him, and heard the
quick patter of drops outside, not to mention the
melancholy roar of the lion which sounded rather awful
through the sudden gloom which filled the strange
place.
"I wouldn't miss the tigers for any thing. See,
they are pulling in the cart now, and the shiny man
is all ready with his gun. Will he shoot any of them,
apprehension, for the sharp crack of a rifle startled her
more than the loudest thunder-clap she ever heard.
"Bless you, no, child; it 's only powder to make
a noise and scare 'em. I wouldn't like to be in his
place, though; father says you can never trust tiglers
as you can lions, no matter how tame they are. Sly
fellers, like cats, and when they scratch it's no joke,
I tell you," answered Ben, with a knowing wag of the
head, as the sides of the cage rattled down, and the
poor, fierce creatures were seen leaping and snarling
as if they resented this display of their captivity.
Bab curled up her feet and winked fast with excitement
as she watched the "shiny man" fondle the
great cats, lie down among them, pull open their red
mouths, and make them leap over him or crouch at
his feet as be snapped the long whip. When he fired
the gun and they all fell as if dead, she with difficulty
suppressed a small scream and clapped her hands
over her ears; but poor Billy never minded it a bit,
for he was pale and quaking with the fear of "heaven's
artillery" thundering overhead, and as a brighht flash
of lightning seemed to run down the tall tent-poles he
hid his eyes and wished with all his heart that he was
safe with mother.
"Afraid of thunder, Bill?" asked Ben, trying to
speak stoutly, while a sense of his own responsibilities
began to worry him, for how was Bab to be got home
in such a pouring rain?
"It makes me sick; always did. Wish I hadn't
come," sighed Billy, feeling, all too late, that lemonade
and "lozengers" were not the fittest food for man, or
a stifling tent the best place to be in on a hot July
day, especially in a thunder-storm.
"I didn't ask you to come; you asked me; so it
isn't my fault," said Ben, rather gruffly, as people
crowded by without pausing to hear the comic song
the clown was singing in spite of the confusion.
"Oh, I'm so tired," groaned Bab, getting up with
a long stretch of arms and legs.
"You'll be tireder before you get home, I guess.
Nobody asked you to Come, any way;" and Ben
gazed dolefully round him, wishing he could see a
familiar face or find a wiser head than his own to help
him out of the scrape he was in.
"I said I wouldn't be a bother, and I won't. I'll
walk right home this minute. I ain't afraid of thunder,
and the rain won't hurt these old clothes. Come
along," cried Bab, bravely, bent on keeping her word,
though it looked much harder after the fun was all
over than before.
"My head aches like fury. Don't I wish old Jack
was here to take me back," said Billy, following his
companions in misfortune with sudden energy, as a
louder peal than before rolled overhead.
"You might as well wish for Lita and the covered
wagon while you are about it, then we could all ride,"
answered Ben, leading the way to the outer tent, where
many people were lingering in hopes of fair weather.
"Why, Billy Barton, how in the world did you get
here? " cried a surprised voice as the crook of a cane
caught the boy by the collar and jerkcd him face to
face with a young farmer, who was pushing along,
followed by his, wife and two or three children.
"Oh, Uncle Eben, I'm so glad you found Me! I
walked over, and it's raining, and I don't feel well.
Let me go with you, can't I? " asked Billy, casting
himself and all his woes upon the strong arm that
had laid hold of him.
"Don't see what your mother was about to let you
come so far alone, and you just over scarlet fever.
We are as full as ever we can be, but we'll tuck you
in somehow," said the pleasant-faced woman, bundling
up her baby, and bidding the two little lads
"keep close to father."
"I didn't come alone. Sam got a ride, and can't
you tuck Ben and Bab in too? They ain't very big,
either of them," whispeied Billy, anxious to serve his
friends now that he was provided for himself.
"Can't do it, any way. Got to pick up mother at
the corner, and that will be all I can carry. It's
lifting a little; hurry along, Lizzie, and let us get
out of this as quick is possible," said Uncle Eben,
impatiently; for going to a circus with a young
family is not an easy task, as every one knows who
has ever tried it.
"Ben, I'm real sorry there isn't room for you.
I'll tell Bab's mother where she is, and may be some
one will come for you," said Billy, hurriedly, as he
tore himself away, feeling rather mean to desert the
others, though he could be of no use.
"Cut away, and don't mind us. I'm all right, and
Bab must do the best she can," was all Ben had time
to answer before his comrade was hustled away by
the crowd pressing round the entrance with much
clashing of umbrellas and scrambling of boys and
men, who rather enjoyed the flurry.
"No use for us to get knocked about in that
scrimmage. We'll wait a minute and then go out
easy. It's a regular rouser, and you'll be as wet as
a sop before we get home. Hope you'll like that?"
added Ben, looking out at the heavy rain poring
down as if it never meant to stop.
"Don't care a bit," said Bab, swinging on one of
the ropes with a happy-go-lucky air, for her spirits
were not extinguished yet, and she was bound to
enjoy this exciting holiday to the very end. "I like
circuses so much! I wish I lived here all the time,
and slept in a wagon, as you did, and had these dear
little colties to play with."
"It wouldn't be fun if you didn't have any folks
to take care of you," began Ben, thoughtfully looking
about the familiar place where the men were now
feeding the animals, setting their refreshment tables,
or lounging on the hay to get such rest as they
could before the evening entertainment. Suddenly
he started, gave a long look, then turned to Bab, and
thrusting Sancho's strap into her hand, said, hastily:
"I see a fellow I used to know. May be he can tell
me something about father. Don't you stir till I
come back."
Then he was off like a shot, and Bab saw him run
after a man with a bucket who bad been watering the
zebra. Sancho tried to follow, but was checked with
an impatient,--
"No, you can't go! What a plague you are,
tagging around when people don't want you."
Sancho might have answered, "So are you," but,
being a gentlemanly dog, he sat down with a resigned
expression to watch the little colts, who were now
awake and seemed ready for a game of bo-peep behind
their mammas. Bab enjoyed their funny little
frisks so much that she tied the wearisome strap to
a post, and crept under the rope to pet the tiny
mouse-colored one who came and talked to her with
baby whinnies and confiding glances of its soft, dark
eyes.
"Oh, luckless Bab! why did you turn your back?
Oh, too accomplished Sancho! why did you neatly
untie that knot and trot away to confer with the disreputable
bull-dog who stood in the entrance beckoning with
friendly wavings of an abbreviated tail?
Oh, much afflicted Ben! why did you delay till it
was too late to save your pet from the rough man
who set his foot upon the trailing strap, and led poor
Sanch quickly out of sight among the crowd?
"It was Bascum, but he didn't know any thing.
Why, where's Sanch?" said Ben, returning.
A breathless voice made Bab turn to see Ben
looking about him with as much alarm in his hot
face as if the dog had been a two years' child.
"I tied him -- he's here somewhere --ith the
ponies," stammered Bab, in sudden dismay, for no
sign of a dog appeared as her eyes roved wildly to
and fro.
Ben whistled, called and searched in vain, till one
of the lounging men said, lazily,
"If you are looking after the big poodle you'd
better go outside; I saw him trotting off with another
dog."
Away rushed Ben, with Bab following, regardless
of the rain, for both felt that a great misfortune had
befallen them. But, long before this, Sancho had
vanished, and no one minded his indignant howls as
he was driven off in a covered cart.
"If he is lost I'll never forgive you; never, never,
never!" and Ben found it impossible to resist giving
Bab several hard shakes, which made her yellow
braids fly up and down like pump handles.
"I'm dreadful sorry. He'll come back -- you
said he always did," pleaded Bab, quite crushed by
her own afflictions, and rather scared to see Ben look
so fierce, for he seldom lost his temper or was rough
with the little girls.
"If he doesn't come back, don't you speak to me
for a year. Now, I'm going home." And, feeling
that words were powerless to express his emotions,
Ben walked away, looking as grim as a small boy
could.
A more unhappy little lass is seldom to be found
than Bab was, as she pattered after him, splashing
recklessly through the puddles, and getting as wet
and muddy as possible, as a sort of penance for her
sins. For a mile or two she trudged stoutly along,
while Ben marched before in solemn silence, which
soon became both impressive and oppressive because
so unnsual, and such a proof of his deep displeasure.
Penitent Bab longed for just one word, one sign of
relenting; and when none came, she began to wonder
how she could possibly bear it if he kept his dreadful
threat and did not speak to her for a whole year.
But presently her own discomfort absorbed her,
for her feet were wet and cold as well as very tired;
pop-corn and peanuts were not particularly nourishing food;
and hunger made her feel faint; excitement
was a new thing, and now that it was over she longed
to lie down and go to sleep; then the long walk with
a circus at the end seemed a very different affair from
the homeward trip with a distracted mother awaiting
her. The shower had subsided into a dreary drizzle,
a chilly east wind blew up, the hilly road seemed to
lengthen before the weary feet, and the mute, blue
flannel figure going on so fast with never a look
or sound, added the last touch to Bab's remorseful
anguish.
Wagons passed, but all were full, and no one offered
a ride. Men and boys went by with rough jokes on
the forlorn pair, for rain soon made them look like
young tramps. But there was no brave Sancho to
resent the impertinence, and this fact was sadly
brought to both their minds by the appearance of a
great Newfoundland dog who came trotting after a
carriage. The good creature stopped to say a friendly
word in his dumb fashion, looking up at Bab with
benevolent eyes, and poking his nose into Ben's hand
before he bounded away with his plumy tail curled
over his back.
Ben started as the cold nose touched his fingers,
gave the soft head a lingering pat, and watched the
dog out of sight through a thicker mist than any the
rain made. But Bab broke down; for the wistful look
of the creature's eyes reminded her of lost Sancho,
and she sobbed quietly as she glanced back longing
to see the dear old fellow jogging along in the rear.
Ben heard the piteous sound and took a sly peep
over his shoulder, seeing such a mournful spectacle
that he felt appeased, saying to himself as if to excuse
his late sternness, --
"She is a naughty girl, but I guess she is about
sorry enough now. When we get to that sign-post
I'll speak to her, only I won't forgive her till Sanch
comes back."
But he was better than his word; for, just before
the post was reached, Bab, blinded by tears, tripped
over the root of a tree, and, rolling down the bank,
landed in a bed of wet nettles. Ben had her out in a
jiffy, and vainly tried to comfort her; but she was
past any consolation he could offer, and roared dismally
as she wrung her tingling hands, with great
drops running over her cheeks almost as fast as the
muddy little rills ran down the road.
"Oh dear, oh dear! I'm all stinged up, and I want
my supper; and my feet ache, and I'm cold, and
every thing is so horrid!" wailed the poor child lying
on the grass, such a miserable little wet bunch that
the sternest parent would have melted at the sight.
"Don't cry so, Babby; I was real cross, and I'm
sorry. I'll forgive you right away now, and never
shake you any more," cried Ben, so full of pity for
her tribulations that he forgot his own, like a
generous little man.
"Shake me again, if you want to; I know I was
very bad to tag and lose Sanch. I never will any
more, and I'm so sorry, I don't know what to do,"
answered Bab, completely bowed down by this magnanimity.
"Never mind; you just wipe up your face and come
along, and we'll tell Ma all about it, and she'll fix us
as nice as can be. I shouldn't wonder if Sanch got
home now before we did," said Ben, cheering himself
as well as her by the fond hope.
"I don't believe I ever shall. I'm so tired my legs
won't go, and the water in my boots makes them feel
dreadfully. I wish that boy would wheel me a piece.
Don't you s'pose he would? asked Bab, wearily picking
herself up as a tall lad trundling a barrow came
out of a yard near by.
"Hullo, Joslyn!" said Ben, recognizing the boy as
one of the "hill fellows" who came to town Saturday
nights for play or business.
"Hullo, Brown! " responded the other, arresting
his squeaking progress with signs of surprise at the
moist tableau before him.
"Where goin'? " asked Ben with masculine brevity.
"Got to carry this home, hang the old thing."
"Where to?"
"Batchelor's, down yonder," and the boy pointed
to a farm-house at the foot of the next hill.
"Goin' that way, take it right along."
"What for?" questioned the prudent youth,
distrusting such unusual neighborliness.
"She's tired, wants a ride; I'll leave it all right,
true as I live and breathe," explained Ben, half
ashamed yet anxious to get his little responsibility
home as soon as possible, for mishaps seemed to
thicken.
"Ho, you couldn't cart her all that way! she's
most as heavy as a bag of meal," jeered the taller lad,
amused at the proposition.
"I'm stronger than most fellers of my size. Try,
if I ain't," and Ben squared off in such scientific style
that Joslyn responded with sudden amiability, --
"All right, let's see you do it."
Bab huddled into her new equipage without the
least fear, and Ben trundled her off at a good pace,
while the boy retired to the shelter of a barn to watch
their progress, glad to be rid of an irksome errand.
At first, all went well, for the way was down hill,
and the wheel squeaked briskly round and round;
Bab smiled gratefully upon her bearer, and Ben
"went in on his muscle with a will," as he expressed
it. But presently the road grew sandy, began to
ascend, and the load seemed to grow heavier with
every step.
"I'll get out now. It's real nice, but I guess I am
too heavy," said Bab, as the face before her got redder
and redder, and the breath began to come in puffs.
"Sit still. He said I couldn't. I'm not going to
give in with him looking on," panted Ben, and he
pushed gallantly up the rise, over the grassy lawn to
the side gate of the Batchelors' door-yard, with his
head down, teeth set, and every muscle of his slender
body braced to the task.
"Did ever ye see the like of that now? Ah, ha!
"The streets were so wide, and the lanes were so narry,
He brought his wife home on a little wheelbarry,"
sung a voice with an accent which made Ben drop his
load and push back his hat, to see Pat's red head
looking over the fence.
To have his enemy behold him then and there was
the last bitter drop in poor Ben's cup of humiliation.
A shrill approving whistle from the hill was some
comfort, however, and gave him spirit to help Bab
out with composure, though his hands were blistered
and he had hardly breath enough to issue the Command, --
"Go along home, and don't mind him."
"Nice childer, ye are, runnin' off this way, settin'
the women distracted, and me wastin' me time comin'
after ye when I'd be milkin' airly so I'd get a bit of
pleasure the day," grumbled Pat, coming up to untie
the Duke, whose Roman nose Ben had already recognized,
as well as the roomy chaise standing before the
door.
"Did Billy tell you about us?" asked Bab, gladly
following toward this welcome refuge.
"Faith he did, and the Squire sent me to fetch ye
home quiet and aisy. When ye found me, I'd jist
stopped here to borry a light for me pipe. Up wid
ye, b'y, and not be wastin' me time stramashin' after a
spalpeen that I'd like to lay me whip over," said Pat,
gruffly, as Ben came along, having left the barrow in
the shed.
"Don't you wish you could? You needn't wait
for me; I'll come when I'm ready," answered Ben
dodging round the chaise, bound not to mind Pat, if
he spent the night by the road-side in consequence.
"Bedad, and I won't then. It's lively ye are; but
four legs is better than two, as ye'll find this night,
me young man."
With that he whipped up and was off before Bab
could say a word to persuade Ben to humble himself
for the sake of a ride. She lamented and Pat chuckled,
both forgetting what an agile monkey the boy was,
and as neither looked back, they were unaware
Master Ben was hanging on behind among the straps
and springs, making derisive grimaces at his unconscious
foe through the little glass in the leathern
back.
At the lodge gate Ben jumped down to run before
with whoops of naughty satisfaction, which brought
the anxious waiters to the door in a flock; so Pat
could only shake his fist at the exulting little rascal
as he drove away, leaving the wanderers to be
welcomed as warmly as if they were a pair of model
children.
Mrs. Moss had not been very much troubled after
all; for Cy had told her that Bab went after Ben, and
Billy had lately reported her safe arrival among them,
so, mother-like, she fed, dried, and warmed the runaways,
before she scolded them.
Even then, the lecture was a mild one, for when
they tried to tell the adventures which to them seemed
so exciting, not to say tragical, the effect astonished
them immensely, as their audience went into gales of
laughter, especially at the wheelbarrow episode, which
Pat insisted on telling, with grateful minuteness, to
Ben's confusion. Thorny shouted, and even tender-
hearted Betty forgot her tears over the lost dog to
join in the familiar melody when Bab mimicked Pat's
quotation from Mother Goose.
"We must not laugh any more, or these naughty
children will think they have done something very
clever in running away," said Miss Celia, when the
fun subsided, adding, soberly, "I am displeased, but
I will say nothing, for I think Ben is already punished
enough."
"Guess I am," muttered Ben, with a choke in his
voice as he glanced towaid the empty mat where a
dear curly bunch used to he with a bright eye twinkling
out of the middle of it. _
Read next: CHAPTER XV. BEN'S RIDE
Read previous: CHAPTER XIII. SOMEBODY RUNS AWAY
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