Glengarry Schooldays [54]
know, and doesn't suspect."
"Well, then, laddie," said Mrs. Finch, with quiet firmness, "let her tell ye what to do. Mak ye're offer to tell her, and warn her that it'll grieve ye baith, and then let her say."
"Yes, I'll do it. I'll do it to-night, and if she says so, then I'll tell her."
And so he did, and when he came back to the Finch's on Monday morning, for his mother saw that leaving school for a time would be no serious loss, and a week or two with the Finches might be a great gain, he came radiant to Mrs. Finch, and finding her in her chair by the open window alone, he burst forth, "I told her, and she wouldn't let me. She didn't want to know so long as I said it was all made right. And she promised she would trust me just the same. Oh, she's splendid, my mother! And she's coming this week to see you. And I tell you I just feel like--like anything! I can't keep still. I'm like Fido when he's let off his chain. He just goes wild."
Then, after a pause, he added, in a graver tone, "And mother read Zaccheus to me. And isn't it fine how He never said a word to him?"--Hughie was too excited to be coherent--"but stood up for him, and"--here Hughie's voice became more grave--"I'm going to restore fourfold. I'm going to work at the hay, and I fired that old pistol into the pond, and I'm not afraid of Foxy any more, not a bit."
Hughie rushed breathlessly through his story, while the dark face before him glowed with intelligent sympathy, but she only said, when he had done, "It is a graund thing to be free, is it no'?"
CHAPTER X
THE BEAR HUNT
"Is Don round, Mrs. Cameron?"
"Mercy me, Hughie! Did ye sleep in the woods? Come away in. Ye're a sight for sore eyes. Come away in. And how's ye're mother and all?"
"All right, thank you. Is Don in?"
"Don? He's somewhere about the barn. But come away, man, there's a bit bannock here, and some honey."
"I'm in a hurry, Mrs. Cameron, and I can't very well wait," said Hughie, trying to preserve an evenness of tone and not allow his excitement to appear.
"Well, well! What's the matter, whatever?" When Hughie refused a "bit bannock" and honey, something must be seriously wrong.
"Nothing at all, but I'm just wanting Don for a--for something."
"Well, well, just go to the old barn and cry at him."
Hughie found Don in the old barn, busy "rigging up" his plow, for the harvest was in and the fall plowing was soon to begin.
"Man, Don!" cried Hughie, in a subdued voice, "it's the greatest thing you ever heard!"
"What is it now, Hughie? You look fairly lifted. Have you seen a ghost?"
"A ghost? No, something better than that, I can tell you."
Hughie drew near and lowered his voice, while Don worked on indifferently.
"It's a bear, Don."
Don dropped his plow. His indifference vanished. The Camerons were great hunters, and many a bear had they, with their famous black dogs, brought home in their day, but not for the past year or two; and never had Don bagged anything bigger than a fox or a coon.
"Where did you see him?"
"I didn't see him." Don looked disgusted. "But he was in our house last night."
"Look here now, stop that!" said Don, gripping Hughie by the jacket and shaking him.
But Hughie's summer in the harvest-field had built up his muscles, and so he shook himself free from Don's grasp, and said, "Look out there! I'm telling you the truth. Last night father was out late and the supper things were left on the table--some honey and stuff-- and after father had been asleep for a while he was wakened by some one tramping about the house. He got up, came out of his room, and called out, 'Jessie, where are the matches?' And just then there was an awful crash, and something hairy brushed past his leg in the dark and got out of the door. We all came down, and there was the table upset, the dishes all on the floor, and four great, big, deep scratches in the table."
"Pshaw! It must have been Fido."
"Fido was in the barn, and just mad to get out; and besides, the tracks are there yet behind
"Well, then, laddie," said Mrs. Finch, with quiet firmness, "let her tell ye what to do. Mak ye're offer to tell her, and warn her that it'll grieve ye baith, and then let her say."
"Yes, I'll do it. I'll do it to-night, and if she says so, then I'll tell her."
And so he did, and when he came back to the Finch's on Monday morning, for his mother saw that leaving school for a time would be no serious loss, and a week or two with the Finches might be a great gain, he came radiant to Mrs. Finch, and finding her in her chair by the open window alone, he burst forth, "I told her, and she wouldn't let me. She didn't want to know so long as I said it was all made right. And she promised she would trust me just the same. Oh, she's splendid, my mother! And she's coming this week to see you. And I tell you I just feel like--like anything! I can't keep still. I'm like Fido when he's let off his chain. He just goes wild."
Then, after a pause, he added, in a graver tone, "And mother read Zaccheus to me. And isn't it fine how He never said a word to him?"--Hughie was too excited to be coherent--"but stood up for him, and"--here Hughie's voice became more grave--"I'm going to restore fourfold. I'm going to work at the hay, and I fired that old pistol into the pond, and I'm not afraid of Foxy any more, not a bit."
Hughie rushed breathlessly through his story, while the dark face before him glowed with intelligent sympathy, but she only said, when he had done, "It is a graund thing to be free, is it no'?"
CHAPTER X
THE BEAR HUNT
"Is Don round, Mrs. Cameron?"
"Mercy me, Hughie! Did ye sleep in the woods? Come away in. Ye're a sight for sore eyes. Come away in. And how's ye're mother and all?"
"All right, thank you. Is Don in?"
"Don? He's somewhere about the barn. But come away, man, there's a bit bannock here, and some honey."
"I'm in a hurry, Mrs. Cameron, and I can't very well wait," said Hughie, trying to preserve an evenness of tone and not allow his excitement to appear.
"Well, well! What's the matter, whatever?" When Hughie refused a "bit bannock" and honey, something must be seriously wrong.
"Nothing at all, but I'm just wanting Don for a--for something."
"Well, well, just go to the old barn and cry at him."
Hughie found Don in the old barn, busy "rigging up" his plow, for the harvest was in and the fall plowing was soon to begin.
"Man, Don!" cried Hughie, in a subdued voice, "it's the greatest thing you ever heard!"
"What is it now, Hughie? You look fairly lifted. Have you seen a ghost?"
"A ghost? No, something better than that, I can tell you."
Hughie drew near and lowered his voice, while Don worked on indifferently.
"It's a bear, Don."
Don dropped his plow. His indifference vanished. The Camerons were great hunters, and many a bear had they, with their famous black dogs, brought home in their day, but not for the past year or two; and never had Don bagged anything bigger than a fox or a coon.
"Where did you see him?"
"I didn't see him." Don looked disgusted. "But he was in our house last night."
"Look here now, stop that!" said Don, gripping Hughie by the jacket and shaking him.
But Hughie's summer in the harvest-field had built up his muscles, and so he shook himself free from Don's grasp, and said, "Look out there! I'm telling you the truth. Last night father was out late and the supper things were left on the table--some honey and stuff-- and after father had been asleep for a while he was wakened by some one tramping about the house. He got up, came out of his room, and called out, 'Jessie, where are the matches?' And just then there was an awful crash, and something hairy brushed past his leg in the dark and got out of the door. We all came down, and there was the table upset, the dishes all on the floor, and four great, big, deep scratches in the table."
"Pshaw! It must have been Fido."
"Fido was in the barn, and just mad to get out; and besides, the tracks are there yet behind