Timothy's Quest

by Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin

  SCENE XIV.

  _A Point of Honor._

  TIMOTHY JESSUP RUNS AWAY A SECOND TIME, AND, LIKE OTHER BLESSINGS,BRIGHTENS AS HE TAKES HIS FLIGHT.

  It was almost dusk, and Jabe Slocum was struggling with the nightlyproblem of getting the cow from the pasture without any expenditure ofpersonal effort. Timothy was nowhere to be found, or he would go and beglad to do the trifling service for his kind friend without otherremuneration than a cordial "Thank you." Failing Timothy there wasalways Billy Pennell, who would not go for a "Thank you," being a boy ofa sordid and miserly manner of thought, but who would go for a cent andchalk the cent up, which made it a more reasonable charge than wouldappear to the casual observer. So Jabe lighted his corn-cob pipe, andextended himself under a willow-tree beside the pond, singing in acheerful fashion,--

  "'Tremblin' sinner, calm your fears! Jesus is always ready. Cease your sin and dry your tears, Jesus is always ready!'"

  "And dretful lucky for you He is!" muttered Samantha, who had come tolook for Timothy. "Jabe! Jabe! Has Timothy gone for the cow?"

  "Dunno. Jest what I was goin' to ask you when I got roun' to it."

  "Well, how are you goin' to find out?"

  "Find out by seein' the cow if he hez gone, an' by not seein' no cow ifhe hain't. I'm comf'table either way it turns out. One o' them writin'fellers that was up here summerin' said, 'They also serve who'd rutherstan' 'n' wait' 'd be a good motto for me, 'n' he's about right whenI've ben hayin'. Look down there at the shiners, ain't they cool? Gorry!I wish I was a fish!"

  "If you was you wouldn't wear your fins out, that's certain!"

  "Come now, Samanthy, don't be hard on a feller after his day's work.Want me to git up 'n' blow the horn for the boy?"

  "No, thank you," answered Samantha cuttingly. "I wouldn't ask you tospend your precious breath for fear you'd be too lazy to draw it inagin. When I want to get anything done I can gen'ally spunk up sprawlenough to do it myself, thanks be!"

  "Wall now, Samanthy, you cheat the men-folks out of a heap o' pleasurebein' so all-fired independent, did ye know it?

  "'Tremblin' sinner, calm your fears! Jesus is always ready.'"

  "When 'd you see him last?"

  "I hain't seen him sence 'bout noon-time. Warn't he into supper?"

  "No. We thought he was off with you. Well, I guess he's gone for thecow, but I should think he'd be hungry. It's kind o' queer."

  Miss Vilda was seated at the open window in the kitchen, and Lady Gaywas enthroned in her lap, sleepy, affectionate, tractable, adorable.

  "How would you like to live here at the White Farm, deary?" asked MissVilda.

  "O, yet. I yike to live here if Timfy doin' to live here too. I yike oo,I yike Samfy, I yike Dabe, I yike white tat 'n' white tow 'n' whitebossy 'n' my boofely desses 'n' my boofely dolly 'n' er day hen 'n' Iyikes evelybuddy!"

  "But you'd stay here like a nice little girl if Timothy had to go away,wouldn't you?"

  "No, I won't tay like nite ittle dirl if Timfy do 'way. If Timfy do'way, I do too. I's Timfy's dirl."

  "But you're too little to go away with Timothy."

  "Ven I ky an keam an kick an hold my bwef--I s'ow you how!"

  "No, you needn't show me how," said Vilda hastily. "Who do you lovebest, deary, Samanthy or me?"

  "I yuv Timfy bet. Lemme twy rit-man-poor-man-bedder-man-fief on yourbuckalins, pease."

  "Then you'll stay here and be my little girl, will you?"

  "Yet, I tay here an' be Timfy's ittle dirl. Now oo p'ay by your own seffittle while, Mit Vildy, pease, coz I dot to det down an find Samfy an'put my dolly to bed coz she's defful seepy."

  "It's half past eight," said Samantha coming into the kitchen, "andTimothy ain't nowheres to be found, and Jabe hain't seen him sencenoon-time."

  "You needn't be scared for fear you've lost your bargain," remarked MissVilda sarcastically. "There ain't so many places open to the boy thathe'll turn his back on this one, I guess!"

  Yet, though the days of chivalry were over, that was precisely whatTimothy Jessup had done.

  Wilkins's Wood was a quiet stretch of timber land that lay along thebanks of Pleasant River; and though the natives (for the most part)never noticed but that it was paved with asphalt and roofed in withoilcloth, yet it was, nevertheless, the most tranquil bit of lovelinessin all the country round. For there the river twisted and turned andsparkled in the sun, and "bent itself in graceful courtesies offarewell" to the hills it was leaving; and kissed the velvet meadowsthat stooped to drink from its brimming cup; and lapped the treesgently, as they hung over its crystal mirrors the better to see theirown fresh beauty. And here it wound "about and in and out," laughing inthe morning sunlight, to think of the tiny streamlet out of which itgrew; paling and shimmering at evening when it held the stars andmoonbeams in its bosom; and trembling in the night wind to think of thegreat unknown sea into whose arms it was hurrying.

  Here was a quiet pool where the rushes bent to the breeze and the quaildipped her wing; and there a winding path where the cattle came down tothe edge, and having looked upon the scene and found it all very good,dipped their sleek heads to drink and drink and drink of the river'snectar. Here the first pink mayflowers pushed their sweet heads throughthe reluctant earth, and waxen Indian pipes grew in the moist places,and yellow violets hid themselves beneath their modest leaves.

  And here sat Timothy, with all his heart in his eyes, bidding good-by toall this soft and tender loveliness. And there, by his side, faithfulunto death (but very much in hopes of something better), sat Rags, andthought it a fine enough prospect, but one that could be beaten at allpoints by a bit of shed-view he knew of,--a superincumbent hash-pan, anempty milk-dish, and an emaciated white cat flying round a corner! Theremembrance of these past joys brought the tears to his eyes, but heforbore to let them flow lest he should add to the griefs of his littlemaster, which, for aught he knew, might be as heavy as his own.

  Timothy was comporting himself, at this trying crisis, neither as a heronor as a martyr. There is no need of exaggerating his virtues. Enough tosay, not that he was a hero, but that he had in him the stuff out ofwhich heroes are made. Win his heart and fire his imagination, and thereis no splendid deed of which the little hero would not have beencapable. But that he knew precisely what he was leaving behind, or whathe was going forth to meet, would be saying too much. One thing he didknow: that Miss Vilda had said distinctly that two was one too many, andthat he was the objectionable unit referred to. And in addition to thishe had more than once heard that very day that nobody in Pleasant Riverwanted him, but that there would be plenty of homes open to Gay if hewere safely out of the way. A little allusion to a Home, which he caughtwhen he was just bringing in a four-leafed clover to show to Samantha,completed the stock of ideas from which he reasoned. He was very clearon one point, and that was that he would never be taken alive and put ina Home with a capital H. He respected Homes, he approved of them, forother boys, but personally they were unpleasant to him, and he had nointention of dwelling in one if he could help it. The situation did notappear utterly hopeless in his eyes. He had his original dollar andeighty-five cents in money; Rags and he had supped like kings off wildblackberries and hard gingerbread; and, more than all, he was young andmercifully blind to all but the immediate present. Yet even in takingthe most commonplace possible view of his character it would be folly toaffirm that he was anything but unhappy. His soul was not sustained bythe consciousness of having done a self-forgetting and manly act, for hewas not old enough to have such a consciousness, which is something thegood God gives us a little later on, to help us over some of the hardplaces.

  "Nobody wants me! Nobody wants me!" he sighed, as he lay down under thetrees. "Nobody ever did want me,--I wonder why! And everybody loves mydarling Gay and wants to keep her, and I don't wonder about that. But,oh, if I only belonged to somebody! (Cuddle up close, little Ragsy;we've got nobody but just each other, and you can put your head into theother pocket that hasn't got the ging
erbread in it, if you please!) IfI only was like that little butcher's boy that he lets ride on the seatwith him, and hold the reins when he takes meat into the houses,--or ifI only was that freckled-face boy with the straw hat that lives on theway to the store! His mother keeps coming out to the gate on purpose tokiss him. Or if I was even Billy Pennell! He's had three mothers and twofathers in three years, Jabe says. Jabe likes me, I think, but he can'thave me live at his house, because his mother is the kind that needsplenty of room, he says,--and Samanthy has no house. But I did what Itried to do. I got away from Minerva Court and found a lovely place forGay to live, with two mothers instead of one; and maybe they'll tell herabout me when she grows bigger, and then she'll know I didn't want torun away from her, but whether they tell her or not, she's only a littlebaby, and boys must always take care of girls; that's what mydream-mother whispers to me in the night,--and that's ... what ... I'malways ..."

  Come! gentle sleep, and take this friendless little knight-errant in thykind arms! Bear him across the rainbow bridge, and lull him to restwith the soft plash of waves and sighing of branches! Cover him with thymantle of dreams, sweet goddess, and give him in sleep what he hathnever had in waking!

  Meanwhile, a more dramatic scene was being enacted at the White Farm. Itwas nine o'clock, and Samantha had gone from pond to garden, shed tobarn, and gate to dairy, a dozen times, but there was no sign ofTimothy. Gay had refused to be undressed till "Timfy" appeared on thepremises, but had fallen asleep in spite of the most valiant resolution,and was borne upstairs by Samantha, who made her ready for bed withoutwaking her.

  As she picked up the heap of clothes to lay them neatly on a chair, abit of folded paper fell from the bosom of the little dress. She glancedat it, turned it over and over, read it quite through. Then, afterretiring behind her apron a moment, she went swiftly downstairs to thedining-room where Miss Avilda and Jabe were sitting.

  "There!" she exclaimed, with a triumphant sob, as she laid the paperdown in front of the astonished couple. "That's a letter from Timothy.He's run away, 'n' I don't blame him a mite 'n' I hope folks 'll besatisfied now they've got red of the blessed angel, 'n' turned himoutdoors without a roof to his head! Read it out, 'n' see what kind of aboy we've showed the door to!"

  Dere Miss vilder and sermanthy. i herd you say i cood not stay here enny longer and other peeple sed nobuddy wood have me and what you sed about the home but as i do not like homes i am going to run away if its all the same to you. Please give Jabe back his birds egs with my love and i am sorry i broak the humming-bird's one but it was a naxident. Pleas take good care of gay and i will come back and get her when I am ritch. I thank you very mutch for such a happy time and the white farm is the most butifull plase in the whole whirld. TIM.

  p. s. i wood not tell you if i was going to stay but billy penel thros stones at the white cow witch i fere will get into her milk so no more from TIM.

  i am sorry not to say good by but i am afrade on acount of the home so i put them here.

  Kisses]

  The paper fell from Miss Vilda's trembling fingers, and two salt tearsdropped into the kissing places.

  "The Lord forgive me!" she said at length (and it was many a year sinceany one had seen her so moved). "The Lord forgive me for a hard-heartedold woman, and give me a chance to make it right. Not one reproachfulword does he say to us about showin' partiality,--not one! And my hearthas kind of yearned over that boy from the first, but just because hehad Marthy's eyes he kept bringin' up the past to me, and I never lookedat him without rememberin' how hard and unforgivin' I'd ben to her, andthinkin' if I'd petted and humored her a little and made lifepleasanter, perhaps she'd never have gone away. And I've scrimped andsaved and laid up money till it comes hard to pay it out, and when Ithought of bringin' up and schoolin' two children I cal'lated I couldn'tafford it; and yet I've got ten thousand dollars in the bank and thebest farm for miles around. Samanthy, you go fetch my bonnet andshawl,--Jabe, you go and hitch up Maria, and we'll go after that boy andfetch him back if he's to be found anywheres above ground! And if wecome across any more o' the same family trampin' around the country,we'll bring them along home while we're about it, and see if we can'tget some sleep and some comfort out o' life. And the Missionary Societycan look somewheres else for money. There's plenty o' folks that don'tget good works set right down in their front yards for 'em to do. I'lllook out for the individyals for a spell, and let the other folkssupport the societies!"