The man on the settle watched her in silence, marvelling at the womanly tenderness, which was in such sharp contrast to her appearance; then presently, growing more drowsy, he fell asleep.
Once or twice he was conscious of being roused, and made to swallow something, but the disturbance seemed only like a part of his dreams, and it was hours before he was fully awake again.
Sounds of rather heated argument assailed his ears now. A man’s voice, raised in fretful complaint, was saying—
“I’ve told you often enough that I wouldn’t have a lot o’ strange folk clutterin’ round, pokin’ their noses into what doesn’t belong to ’em, and when I says a thing I mostly means it, as you ought fer to know.”
“Oh, I know it well enough, and I wouldn’t have kept him here if I could have sent him on. But, granfer, he dropped like dead at my feet, and at first I thought he was gone.”
“Not much loss if he had died that I can see. I expect he will be no end of expense to us,” grumbled the man’s voice; and at this Dick considered it high time to make them aware that he was awake and listening.
“I can pay you for all I need, thank you. Although I’m afraid no money can really recompense your granddaughter for her great kindness to me.”
The room was in heavy shadow, and the wood fire gave only a dull red glow, so that Dick Bronson could not see clearly the face of the old man, who turned round with a note of snarling query in his thin voice.
“What are you, anyway? A sheriff’s officer?”
“Nothing half so important. Only just a hard-working man, taking a holiday in the forest; but my horse got stranded in a soft spot, and I had to shoot the poor beast. Then I lost my bearings, and had come almost to the end of my endurance, when I reached this house.”
There was such a ring of sincerity in the simple statement, that Doss Umpey’s suspicions about the good faith of the unknown were allayed to a certain extent, and he asked, in a grudging tone—
“Well, what do you want, anyhow?”
“I don’t quite know what you mean,” said Dick, in a bewildered manner.
“How long do you want to stop, and what do you want us to do for you?” asked the old man, impatiently.
“I want to lie here only until I am strong enough to get on to the nearest hotel. I will pay you for the accommodation, and for the food I eat. I am really very hungry now; may I have something more to eat?” Dick asked, turning his head to look at Nell, who stood by the side of the settle, her face a study of vexation and worry.
“Can you pay for it, I want to know?” Doss Umpey began, but Nell silenced him in an imperious fashion.
“It won’t make any difference, anyhow, granfer, for we ain’t going to let him starve, and if you ain’t willing for him to have supper, you won’t get any yourself.”
“Of course I’m willing he should eat. Only a poor man like me, with others depending on him, has got to be careful,” grumbled the old man, climbing down with so much haste that Dick would have laughed if he had not been so angry.
He was about to fumble for his pocket-book in order to hurl some money at his inhospitable host; but Nell, divining his intention, stopped him with an authoritative gesture, then spoke to the old man with quiet decision in her manner.
“If you are so anxious to get rid of the gentleman, granfer, you had best give Blossom a good supper to-night; then by to-morrow morning the horse could take him to Button End. They’d be able to house him comfortable at Joe Lipton’s.”
“That’s a good idea, Nell. What a pity you didn’t think of it sooner! Then I’d have saddled the beast and taken him over to-night. We should have been able to be quit of him the sooner.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t have been fit to go to-night,” she answered.
“Well, he shall go bright and early to-morrow morning, anyhow,” said the old man; then departed, slamming the door behind him.
When he had gone, Nell stirred the dull fire into a cheerful blaze, then brought a bowl of some savoury stew to the settle where Dick was lying.
“You’d best sit up and take your supper now, while you can have it in peace. Granfer is a bit trying sometimes, and he just hates strangers like poison,” Nell said, as she arranged the bowl and the iron spoon so that her guest, by turning on his elbow, could sup comfortably without rising.
“I should think he just is trying. Why, he is about the most disagreeable old man that it has ever been my ill fortune to meet. Why do you stay and put up with it? If I were in your place I should run away,” Dick said.
“Where should I run to? And who would take me in? A girl isn’t able to shift for herself and defy the world like a man. Besides, I don’t know how to do things properly. I can saw wood, do rough cooking, and such work, but nothing nicer, so no one would want me,” Nell responded wistfully.
“The stew is good, anyhow, if it is only rough cooking, and I suppose you could learn to do other things if you had the chance,” Dick went on, as he ate his supper with slow enjoyment, covertly studying Nell the while as she sat in the light of the fire.
“I can learn anything if only I get the chance. I’ve got an old dictionary upstairs, and I’ve taught myself to spell every word there is in it. I know I talk rough, but that is only because I haven’t had a chance of being with educated people and hearing how they sound their words.”
“A whole dictionary? Why, you must be a perfect prodigy of learning!” exclaimed Dick, smothering a laugh, as he looked at the thin girl in her shabby attire.
“That means something out of the ordinary course of nature,” she said quickly, evidently quoting from her much-studied dictionary. “No, I don’t think I’m out of the ordinary, only, you see, I do have such a lot of time to myself when granfer is working down beyond, that I just have to do something.”
“I see. Have you got any more books?” asked Dick, who was finding Nell decidedly interesting to talk to.
“Only a few. There is a Bible, an old geography with a great many leaves gone, Longfellow’s poetical works, and Bacon’s essays. I wanted some of father’s books, only granfer said they must be sold to pay for my board, so he let the schoolmaster have the lot for ten dollars.”
“What a shame!” There was a thrill of boyish indignation in Dick’s voice that brought a flush of pleasure to Nell’s thin cheek. Then he asked, “Are your father and mother dead?”
Nell nodded, rose abruptly from her seat, and going over to the opposite side of the fire, stooped down to do something to Pip. When she came back there was only a strained something in her tone to show that he had touched on a sore subject.
“Mother died ever so long ago, when I was only three years old. But I was eleven when father died, and I came up here to live with granfer.”
The door opened at this minute, and the old man came in, the water dripping from his garments, and his mood even more unpleasant than before.
But Dick Bronson, soothed by his supper and weak from his long fasting, fell asleep very soon, and so escaped the constant complaints of his unwilling host, who grumbled as long as he was awake, then, betaking himself to a hammock, snored loudly until the morning. Nell did not close her eyes, however, but, sitting on the floor of her loft, kept vigil from reasons best known to herself.
CHAPTER III
The Old Coat
THE next morning broke gloriously fine,