Anne of Windy Poplars - L. M. Montgomery [59]
‘Luckily it’s out of sight of the house,’ said Lewis.
Anne had just retied her shoe-lace when they heard something pushing softly through the jungle of shrubbery on their right. Then a small boy of about eight years of age came into view, and stood surveying them bashfully with a big apple turnover clasped tightly in his chubby hands. He was a pretty child, with glossy brown curls, big, trustful brown eyes, and delicately modelled features. There was an air of refinement about him in spite of the fact that he was bare-headed and bare-legged, with only a faded blue cotton shirt and a pair of threadbare velvet knickerbockers between head and legs. But he looked like a small prince in disguise.
Just behind him was a big black Newfoundland dog, whose head was almost on a level with the lad’s shoulder.
Anne looked at him with the smile that always won children’s hearts.
‘Hello, sonny!’ said Lewis. ‘Who belongs to you?’
The boy came forward with an answering smile, holding out his turnover.
‘This is for you to eat,’ he said shyly. ‘Dad made it for me, but I’d rather give it to you. I’ve lots to eat.’
Lewis, rather tactlessly, was on the point of refusing to take the little chap’s snack, but Anne gave him a quick nudge. Taking the hint, he accepted it gravely and handed it to Anne, who, quite as gravely, broke it in two and gave half of it back to him. They knew they must eat it, and they had painful doubts as to ‘Dad’s’ ability in the cooking line; but the first mouthful reassured them. ‘Dad’ might not be strong on courtesy, but he could certainly make turnovers.
‘This is delicious,’ said Anne. ‘What is your name, dear?’
‘Teddy Armstrong,’ said the small benefactor. ‘But Dad always calls me “Little Fellow”. I’m all he has, you know. Dad is awful fond of me, and I’m awful fond of Dad. I’m afraid you think my dad is impolite, ’cause he shut that door so quick. But he doesn’t mean to be. I heard you asking for something to eat.’ (‘We didn’t, but it doesn’t matter,’ thought Anne.) ‘I was in the garden behind the hollyhocks, so I just thought I’d bring you my turnover, ’cause I’m always so sorry for poor people who haven’t plenty to eat. I have, always. My dad is a splendid cook. You ought to see the rice-puddings he can make.’
‘Does he put raisins in them?’ asked Lewis, with a twinkle.
‘Lots and lots. There’s nothing mean about my dad.’
‘Haven’t you any mother, darling?’ asked Anne.
‘No. My mother is dead. Mrs Merrill told me once she’d gone to heaven, but my dad says there’s no such place, and I guess he ought to know. My dad is an awful wise man. He’s read thousands of books. I mean to be just ’zackly like him when I grow up – only I’ll always give people things to eat when they want them. My dad isn’t very fond of people, you know, but he’s awful good to me.’
‘Do you go to school?’ asked Lewis.
‘No. My dad teaches me at home. The trustees told him I’d have to go next year, though. I think I’d like to go to school and have some other boys to play with. Course, I’ve got Carlo, and Dad himself is splendid to play with when he has time. My dad is pretty busy, you know. He has to run the farm, and keep the house clean, too. That’s why he can’t be bothered having people around, you see. When I get bigger I’ll be able to help him lots, and then he’ll have more time to be polite to folks.’
‘That turnover was just about right, Little Fellow,’ said Lewis, swallowing the last crumb.
The Little Fellow’s eyes beamed. ‘I’m so glad you liked it,’ he said.
‘Would you like to have your picture taken?’ said Anne, feeling that it would never do to offer money to this generous small soul. ‘If you would Lewis will take it.’
‘Oh, wouldn’t I!’ said the Little Fellow eagerly. ‘Carlo too?’
‘Certainly Carlo too.’
Anne posed the two prettily before a background