Frank's Campaign [31]
"At any rate, my hands are. I wonder where the pump is. But then it won't do to pump; it'll make too much noise. Oh, here's some water in the trough."
Dick succeeded in getting some of the dirt off his hands, which he dried on his handkerchief. Then with a feeling of relief, he took the road toward home.
Although he may be said to have failed most signally in his design, he felt considerably better than if he had succeeded.
"Frank's a good fellow," he said to himself. "Some boys would have been mad, and made a great fuss. But he didn't seem angry at all, not even with John Haynes, and did all he could to screen me. Well I'm glad I didn't succeed."
Dick reached home without any further mischance, and succeeded in crawling in at the window without making any sound loud enough to wake up his parents.
The next day John, who had been informed of his intention to make the attempt the evening previous, contrived to meet him.
"Well, Dick," he said eagerly, "what success last night?"
"None at all," answered Dick.
"Didn't you try?"
"Yes."
"What prevented your succeeding, then?"
"Frank came out to get some herbs to make tea for the hired man, and so caught me."
"You didn't tell him who put you up to it?" said John apprehensively.
"No," said Dick coolly; "I don't do such things."
"That's good," said John, relieved. "Was he mad?"
"No, he didn't make any fuss. He asked what made me do it, and I told him somebody else put it into my head."
"You did! I thought you said you didn't."
"I didn't tell who that somebody was, but Frank said he could guess."
"He can't prove it," said John hastily.
"I don't think he'll try," said Dick. "The fact is, John, Frank's a good fellow, and if you want to get anybody to do him any mischief hereafter, you'd better not apply to me."
"I don't know as he's any better than other boys," said John, sneering. He did not enjoy hearing Frank's praises.
"He's better than either of us, I'm sure of that," said Dick decidedly.
"Speak for yourself, Dick Bumstead," said John haughtily. "I wouldn't lower myself by a comparison with him. He's only a laborer, and will grow up a clodhopper."
"He's my friend, John Haynes," said Dick stoutly, "and if you've got anything else to say against him, you'll oblige me by going farther off."
John left in high dudgeon.
That day, to his father's surprise, Dick worked with steady industry, and did not make a single attempt to shirk.
CHAPTER XV. POMP BEHAVES BADLY
The village of Rossville was distant about five miles from the long line of railway which binds together with iron bands the cities of New York and Boston. Only when the wind was strongly that way could the monotonous noise of the railway-train be heard, as the iron monster, with its heavy burden, sped swiftly on its way.
Lately a covered wagon had commenced running twice a day between Rossville and the railway-station at Wellington. It was started at seven in the morning, in time to meet the early trains, and again at four, in order to receive any passengers who might have left the city in the afternoon.
Occupying a central position in the village stood the tavern--a two-story building, with a long piazza running along the front. Here an extended seat was provided, on which, when the weather was not too inclement, the floating population of the village, who had plenty of leisure, and others when their work was over for the day, liked to congregate, and in neighborly chat discuss the affairs of the village, or the nation, speculating perchance upon the varying phases of the great civil contest, which, though raging hundreds of miles away, came home to the hearts and hearths of quiet Rossville and every other village and hamlet in the land.
The driver of the carriage which made its daily journeys to and fro from the station had received from his parents the rather uncommon name of Ajax, not probably from any supposed resemblance to the ancient Grecian hero, of whom it is doubtful whether his worthy progenitor had ever heard. He had been
Dick succeeded in getting some of the dirt off his hands, which he dried on his handkerchief. Then with a feeling of relief, he took the road toward home.
Although he may be said to have failed most signally in his design, he felt considerably better than if he had succeeded.
"Frank's a good fellow," he said to himself. "Some boys would have been mad, and made a great fuss. But he didn't seem angry at all, not even with John Haynes, and did all he could to screen me. Well I'm glad I didn't succeed."
Dick reached home without any further mischance, and succeeded in crawling in at the window without making any sound loud enough to wake up his parents.
The next day John, who had been informed of his intention to make the attempt the evening previous, contrived to meet him.
"Well, Dick," he said eagerly, "what success last night?"
"None at all," answered Dick.
"Didn't you try?"
"Yes."
"What prevented your succeeding, then?"
"Frank came out to get some herbs to make tea for the hired man, and so caught me."
"You didn't tell him who put you up to it?" said John apprehensively.
"No," said Dick coolly; "I don't do such things."
"That's good," said John, relieved. "Was he mad?"
"No, he didn't make any fuss. He asked what made me do it, and I told him somebody else put it into my head."
"You did! I thought you said you didn't."
"I didn't tell who that somebody was, but Frank said he could guess."
"He can't prove it," said John hastily.
"I don't think he'll try," said Dick. "The fact is, John, Frank's a good fellow, and if you want to get anybody to do him any mischief hereafter, you'd better not apply to me."
"I don't know as he's any better than other boys," said John, sneering. He did not enjoy hearing Frank's praises.
"He's better than either of us, I'm sure of that," said Dick decidedly.
"Speak for yourself, Dick Bumstead," said John haughtily. "I wouldn't lower myself by a comparison with him. He's only a laborer, and will grow up a clodhopper."
"He's my friend, John Haynes," said Dick stoutly, "and if you've got anything else to say against him, you'll oblige me by going farther off."
John left in high dudgeon.
That day, to his father's surprise, Dick worked with steady industry, and did not make a single attempt to shirk.
CHAPTER XV. POMP BEHAVES BADLY
The village of Rossville was distant about five miles from the long line of railway which binds together with iron bands the cities of New York and Boston. Only when the wind was strongly that way could the monotonous noise of the railway-train be heard, as the iron monster, with its heavy burden, sped swiftly on its way.
Lately a covered wagon had commenced running twice a day between Rossville and the railway-station at Wellington. It was started at seven in the morning, in time to meet the early trains, and again at four, in order to receive any passengers who might have left the city in the afternoon.
Occupying a central position in the village stood the tavern--a two-story building, with a long piazza running along the front. Here an extended seat was provided, on which, when the weather was not too inclement, the floating population of the village, who had plenty of leisure, and others when their work was over for the day, liked to congregate, and in neighborly chat discuss the affairs of the village, or the nation, speculating perchance upon the varying phases of the great civil contest, which, though raging hundreds of miles away, came home to the hearts and hearths of quiet Rossville and every other village and hamlet in the land.
The driver of the carriage which made its daily journeys to and fro from the station had received from his parents the rather uncommon name of Ajax, not probably from any supposed resemblance to the ancient Grecian hero, of whom it is doubtful whether his worthy progenitor had ever heard. He had been