Betty Gordon at Bramble Farm; Or, The Mystery of a Nobody
Page 10
CHAPTER X
ROAD COURTESY
"WE'LL have to hurry," said Bob, quickening his steps, "if I'm to getback at eleven. I hope Turner has the sorrel ready."
"Hasn't the horse a name?" queried Betty curiously, running to keep upwith Bob. "I must go out and see the cows and things. Do you like pigs,Bob?"
The boy laughed a little at this confusion of ideas.
"No, none of the horses are named," he answered, taking the questionsin order. "Peabody has three; but we just call 'em the sorrel and theblack and the bay. Nobody's got time to feed 'em lumps of sugar andmake pets out of them. Guess that's what you've got in mind, Betty. OldPeabody would throw a fit if he saw any one feeding sugar to a horse."
"But the cows?" urged Betty. "Do they get enough to eat? Or do theyhave to suffer to save money, like this poor horse we brought over tobe shod?"
"Cows," announced Bob sententiously, "are different A cow won't giveas much milk if she's bothered, and Joe Peabody can see a butter checkas far as anybody else. So the stables are screened and the cows arefed pretty well. Now, of course, they're out on pasture. They're notblood stock, though--just mixed breeds. And I hate pigs!"
Betty was surprised at his vehemence, but she had no chance to ask foran explanation, for by this time they had reached the smithy, and theblacksmith led out the sorrel.
After they were well started on their way toward the farm, she venturedto ask Bob why he hated pigs.
"If you had to take care of 'em, you'd know why," he answered moodily."I'd like to drown every one of 'em in the pails of slop I've carriedout to 'em. And whitewashing the pig house on a hot day--whew! The pigscan go out in the orchard and root around, while I have to clean upafter 'em. Besides, if you lived on ham for breakfast the year round,you'd hate the sight of a pig!"
Betty laughed understandingly.
"I know I should," she agreed. "Isn't it funny, I never thought so muchabout eating in my life as I have since I've been here. It's on my mindcontinually. I bought this canned stuff to keep up in my room so if Idon't want to eat what the Peabodys have every meal I needn't. You canhave some, too, Bob. Let's eat these sandwiches now--I'm hungry, aren'tyou? Why didn't you tell me you were tired of ham and I would havebought something else?"
But Bob was far from despising well-cooked cold, boiled ham, and hethoroughly enjoyed his share of the sandwiches. While eating he glancedonce or twice uncertainly at Betty, wishing he could find the courageto tell her how glad he was that she had come to Bramble Farm. Bob'slife had had very few pleasant events in it so far.
"Don't you think it was funny that Mr. Peabody let me come?" askedBetty presently, following her own train of thought. "If he's so close,I should think he'd hate to have any one come to see his wife."
"He's doing it for the check your uncle sent," retorted Bob shrewdly."Didn't you know your board was paid for two weeks in advance? That'swhy Peabody isn't making a fuss about your going; he figures he'll bein that much. Hello, what's this?"
"This" was a buggy drawn up at one side of the road, the fat, whitehorse lazily cropping grass, while two slight feminine figures stoodhelplessly by.
Bob was going to drive past, but Betty put out her hand and jerked thesorrel to a halt.
"Ask 'em what the matter is," she commanded.
"They've lost a wheel," said Bob in a low tone, his practiced eyehaving detected at once that one of the rear wheels was lying on thegrass. "We can't stop, Betty; we're late now, and Joe Peabody's in araging temper anyway this morning."
"Why, Bob Henderson, how you do talk!" Betty's dark eyes began to shootfire. "Just because you have to live with the meanest man in the worldis no excuse for you to grow like him! If you drive on and don't try tohelp these women, I'll never speak to you again--never!"
Bob looked shamefaced. His first impulse had been to stop and offerhelp, but he had had first-hand experience with the Peabody temperand had endured more than one beating for slight neglect of iron-cladorders. When he still hesitated, Betty spoke scornfully.
"They're old ladies--so don't bother," she said bitingly. "Uncle Dicksays no one should ever leave any one in trouble on the road, but Isuppose he meant men who could whack you over the head if you refusedto assist them. Why don't you drive on, Bob?"
"You hush up!" Bob, stung into action, closed his mouth grimly andhanded over the reins to his tormentor. "It's a half hour's job to putthat wheel on, but I suppose there's no way out of it, so here goes."
The two women were, as Betty had said, old ladies; that is, each hadvery white hair. And, although the day was warm, they were so muffledup in veils and shawls and gloves that the boy and the girl marveledhow they could see to drive.
"The wheel just came off without warning," said the taller of thetwo, in a high, sweet voice, as Bob asked to be allowed to help them."Sister and I were so frightened! It might have been serious, you know,but Phyllis is such a good horse! She never even attempted to run."
Bob with difficulty repressed a grin. Looking at the fat sides ofPhyllis he would have said that physical handicaps, rather than aninherent sweetness of disposition, kept Phyllis where she belongedbetween the shafts.
"You've lost a nut," announced the boy, after a brief examination.
"Dear, dear!" fluttered both ladies. "Isn't that unfortunate! Youhaven't a--a--nut with you, Mr.----?"
"I'm Bob Henderson," said the lad courteously. "I'll look around herein the dust a bit and maybe the nut will turn up. Why don't you sitdown in the shade and rest awhile?"
The two ladies accepted his suggestion gratefully. They retired toa crooked old apple tree growing on the bank further down the road,evincing no desire to make the acquaintance of Betty, who sat quietlyin the wagon holding the reins.
"I suppose they think we're backwoods country folks," thought Betty,the blood coming into her face. "Don't know that I blame them, seeingthat this wagon is patched and tied together in a hundred places andthe horse looks like a shadow of a skeleton."
Bob continued to search in the dust of the road painstakingly. The twowomen clearly had shifted their trouble to him, and apparently had nofurther interest in the outcome. Betty longed to offer to help him, butthe severity of his profile, as she glimpsed it now and then, deterredher.
"I wish I could stop before I say so much," mourned the girl toherself. "I ought to know that Bob can't help being afraid of Mr.Peabody. If he had control over me, I'd probably act just as his wifeand Bob do. When you can get away from an ogre, it's easy enough to sayyou're not afraid of him. Doesn't Bob dominate the situation, as Mrs.Arnold used to say!"
Bob had found the nut, and was now fitting the wheel into place,working with a quickness and skill that fascinated Betty. She timidlycalled to him and asked if she should not come and hold the axle,but he refused her offer curtly. In a very few minutes the wheel wasscrewed on and the two ladies at liberty to resume their journey. Theywere insistent that Bob accept pay for his help, but the boy declined,politely but resolutely, and seemingly at no loss for diplomatic wordsand phrases.
"Were you born in the poorhouse, Bob?" Betty asked curiously, wonderingwhere the lad had developed his ability to meet people on their ownground. The volubly thankful ladies had driven on, and the sorrel wasnow trotting briskly toward Bramble Farm.
"Yes, I was," said Bob shortly. "But my mother wasn't, nor my father.I've got a box buried in the garden that's mine, though the clotheson my back belong to old Peabody. And if I'm like Joe Peabody inother things, perhaps I'll learn to make money and save it. My fathercouldn't, or I wouldn't have been born in an alms-house!"
"Oh, Bob!" Betty cried miserably, "I didn't mean you were like Mr.Peabody--you know I didn't. I'm so sorry! I always say things I don'tmean when I'm mad. Uncle Dick told me to go out and chop wood when Iget furious, and not talk. I am so sorry!"
"We've got a wood pile," grinned Bob. "I'll show you where it is. Therest of it's all right, Betty. I'd probably have stayed awake all nightif I'd driven by those women. Only I suppose
Peabody will be in atowering rage. It must be noon."
If Betty was not afraid of Mr. Peabody, it must be confessed that shelooked forward with no more pleasure than Bob to meeting him. Still shewas not prepared for the cold fury with which he greeted them when theydrove into the yard.
"Just as I figured," he said heavily. "Here 'tis noon, and that boyhasn't done a stroke of work since breakfast. Gallivanting all overtown, I'll be bound. Going to be like his shiftless, worthless fatherand mother--a charge on the township all his days. You take that pailof whitewash and don't let me see you again till you get the pig housedone, you miserable, sneaking poorhouse rat! You'll go without dinnerto pay for wasting my time like this! Clear out, now."
"How dare you!" Betty's voice was shaking, but she stood up in thewagon and looked down at Mr. Peabody bravely. "How dare you taunt a boywith what he isn't responsible for? It isn't his fault that he was bornin the poorhouse, nor his fault that we're late. I made him stop andhelp put a buggy wheel on. Oh, how can you be so mean, and close andhateful?"
Betty's eyes overflowed as she gathered up her bundles and jumpedto the ground. Mrs. Peabody, standing in the doorway, was a silentwitness to her outburst, and the two hired men, who had come up tothe house for dinner, were watching curiously. Bob had disappearedwith the bucket of whitewash. No one would say anything, thought Bettydespairingly, if a murder were committed in this awful place.
"Been spending your money?" sneered Mr. Peabody, eyeing the bundleswith disfavor. "Never earned a cent in your life, I'll be bound, yetyou'll fling what isn't yours right and left. Let me give you a word ofadvice, young lady; as long as you're in my house you hold your tongueif you don't want to find yourself in your room on a diet of bread andwater. Understand?"
Betty Gordon fled upstairs, her one thought to reach the haven of herbed. Anger and humiliation and a sense of having lowered herself to thePeabody level by quarreling when in a bad temper swept over her in awave. She buried her head in the hard little pillow.