_ PART ONE CHAPTER IX
The little trickle of uneven days was broken one morning by a message which was brought by the "hired man from Randall's."
"We've got visitors from the city tew our house," he announced. "They want you to send Janey over tew play with their little gal."
Befitting the honor of the occasion, Janey was attired in her blue-sprigged muslin and allowed to wear the turquoises. David drove her to Maplewood, the pretentious home of the Randalls, intending to call for her later. When they came to the entrance of the grounds at the end of a long avenue of maples a very tiny girl, immaculate in white, with hair of gold and eyes darkly blue, came out from among the trees. She regarded David with deep, grave eyes as he stepped from the wagon to open the gate.
"You've come to play with me," she stated in a tone of assurance.
"I've brought Janey to play with you," he rejoined, indicating his little companion. "If you'll get in the wagon, I'll drive you up to the house."
She held up her slender little arms to him, and David felt as if he were lifting a doll.
"My name in Carey Winthrop. What is yours?" she demanded of Janey as they all rode up the shaded, graveled road.
"Janey Brumble," replied the visitor, gaining ease from the ingenuousness of the little girl and from the knowledge that she was older than her hostess.
"And he's your brother?" indicating David.
"He's my adopted brother," said Janey; "he's David Dunne."
"I wish I had a 'dopted brother," sighed the little girl, eying David wistfully.
David drove up to the side entrance of the large, white-columned, porticoed house, on the spacious veranda of which sat a fair-haired young woman with luminous eyes and smiling mouth. The smile deepened as she saw the curiously disfigured horse ambling up to the stone step.
"Whoa, Old Hundred!" commanded David, whereupon the smile became a rippling laugh. David got out, lifted the little girl to the ground very carefully, and gave a helping hand to the nimble, independent Janey.
"Mother," cried Carey delightedly, "this is Janey and her 'dopted brother David."
David touched his cap gravely in acknowledgment of the introduction. He had never heard his name pronounced as this little girl spoke it, with the soft "a." It sounded very sweet to him.
"I'll drive back for you before sundown, Janey," said David, preparing to climb into the wagon.
"No," objected Carey, regarding him with apprehension, "I want you to stay and play with me. Tell him to stay, mother."
There was a regal carriage to the little head and an imperious note--the note of an only child--in her voice.
"Maybe David has other things to do than to play with little girls," said her mother, "but, David, if you can stay, I wish you would."
"I should like to stay," replied David earnestly, "but they expect me back, and Old Hundred is needed in the field."
"Luke can drive your horse back, and we will see that you and Janey ride home."
So Carey, with a hand to each of her new playmates, led them across the driveway to the rolling stretch of shaded lawn. The lady watched David as he submitted to be driven as a horse by the little girls and then constituted himself driver to his little team of ponies as he called them. Later, when they raced to the meadow, she saw him hold Janey back that Carey might win. Presently the lady was joined by her husband.
"Where is Carey?" he asked.
"She is having great sport with a pretty little girl and a guardian angel of a boy. Here they come!"
They were trooping across the lawn, the little girls adorned with blossom wreaths which David had woven for them.
"May we go down to the woods--the big woods?" asked Carey.
"It's too far for you to walk, dear," remonstrated her mother.
"David says he'll draw me in my little cart."
"Who is it that was afraid to go into the big woods, and thought it was a forest filled with wild beasts and scary things?" demanded Mr. Winthrop.
The earnest eyes fixed on his were not at all abashed.
"With him, with David," she said simply, "I would have no afraidments."
"Afraidments?" he repeated perplexedly. "I am not sure I understand."
"Don't tease, Arthur; it's a very good word," interposed Mrs. Winthrop quickly. "It seems to have a different meaning from fear."
"Come up here, David," bade Mr. Winthrop, "and let me see what there is in you to inspire one with no 'afraidments'."
The boy came up on the steps, and did not falter under the keen but good-humored gaze.
"Do you like to play with little girls, David?"
"I like to play with these little girls," admitted David.
"And what do you like to do besides that?"
"I like to shoot."
"Oh, a hunter?"
"No; I like to shoot at a mark."
"And what else?"
"I like to read, and fish, and swim, and--"
"Eat ice cream!" finished Janey roguishly, showing her dimples.
The man caught her up in his arms.
"You are a darling, and I wish my little girl had such rosy cheeks. David, can you show me where there is good fishing?"
"Uncle Larimy can show you the best places. He knows where the bass live, and how to coax them to bite."
"And will you take me to this wonderful person to-morrow?"
"Yes, sir."
Carey now came out of the hall with her cart, and David drew her across the lawn, Janey dancing by his side. Down through the meadows wound a wheel-tracked road leading to a patch of dense woods which, to a little girl with a big imagination, could easily become a wild forest infested with all sorts of nameless terrors--terrors that make one draw the bedclothes snugly over the head at night. She gave a little frightened cry as they came into the cool, olive depths.
"I am afraid, David. Take me!"
He lifted her to his shoulder, and her soft cheek nestled against his face.
"Now you are not afraid," he said persuasively.
"No; but I would be if you put me down."
They went farther into the oak depths, until they came to a fallen tree where they rested. Janey, investigating the forestry, finally discovered a bush with slender red twigs.
"Oh," she cried, "now David will show you what beautiful things he can make for us."
"I have no pins," demurred David.
"I have," triumphantly producing a paper of the needful from her pocket. "I always carry them now."
David broke up the long twigs into short pieces, from which he skillfully fashioned little chairs and tables, discoursing the while to Carey on the beauty and safety of the woods. Finally Carey acquired courage to hunt for wild flowers, though her hand remained close in David's clasp.
When they returned to the house Carey gave a glowing account of the expedition.
"Sit down on the steps and rest, children," proposed Mrs. Winthrop, "while Lucy prepares a little picnic dinner for you."
"What will we do now, David?" appealed Carey, when they were seated on the porch.
"You mustn't do anything but sit still," admonished her mother. "You've done more now than you are used to doing in one day."
"Davey will tell us a story," suggested Janey.
"Yes, please, David," urged Carey, coming to him and resting her eyes on his inquiringly, while her little hand confidently sought his knee. Instinctively and naturally his fingers closed upon it.
Embarrassed as he was at having a strange audience, he could not resist the child's appeal.
"She'll like the kind that you don't," he said musingly to Janey, "the kind about fairies and princes."
"Yes," rejoined Carey.
So he fashioned a tale, partly from recollections of Andersen but mostly from his own fancy. As his imagination kindled, he forgot where he was. Inspired by the spellbound interest of the dainty little girl with the worshiping eyes, he achieved his masterpiece.
"Upon my word," exclaimed Mr. Winthrop, "you are a veritable Scheherazade! You didn't make up that story yourself?"
"Only part of it," admitted David modestly.
When he and Janey started for home David politely delivered M'ri's message of invitation for Carey to come to the farm on the morrow to play.
"It is going to be lovely here," said the little girl happily. "And we are going to come every summer."
Janey kissed her impulsively. "Good-by, Carey."
"Good-by, Janey. Good-by, David."
"Good-by," he returned cheerily. Looking back, he saw her lips trembling. His gaze turned in perplexity to Mrs. Winthrop, whose eyes were dancing. "She expects you to bid her good-by the way Janey did," she explained.
"Oh!" said David, reddening, as two baby lips of scarlet were lifted naturally and expectantly to his.
As they drove away, the light feet of the horse making but little sound on the smooth road, Mrs. Winthrop's clear treble was wafted after them.
"One can scarcely believe that his father was a convict and his mother a washerwoman."
A lump came into the boy's throat. Janey was very quiet on the way home. When they were alone she said to him, with troubled eyes:
"Davey, is Carey going to be your sweetheart?"
His laugh was reassuring.
"Why, Janey, I am just twice her age."
"She is like a little doll, isn't she, David?"
"No; like a little princess."
The next morning Little Teacher came to show them her present from Joe.
"I am sure he chose a camera so I could take your pictures to send to him," she declared.
"Miss Rhody wants her picture taken in the black silk Joe gave her. If you will take it, she won't have to spend the money he sent her," said the thoughtful David.
Little Teacher was very enthusiastic over this proposition, and offered to accompany him at once to secure the picture. Miss Rhody was greatly excited over the event. Ever since the dress had been finished she had been a devotee at the shrine of two hooks in her closet from which was suspended the long-coveted garment, waiting for an occasion that would warrant its débût. She nervously dressed for the "likeness," for which she assumed her primmest pose. A week later David sent Joe a picture of Miss Rhody standing stiff and straight on her back porch and arrayed, with all the glory of the lilies of the field, in her new silk. _