第367章

You would have seen a short boy, barefooted, with trousers at once too big and too short, held up perhaps by one suspender only, a checked cotton shirt, and a hat of braided palm-leaf, frayed at the edges and bulged up in the crown.It is impossible to keep a hat neat if you use it to catch bumblebees and whisk 'em; to bail the water from a leaky boat; to catch minnows in; to put over honey-bees'

nests, and to transport pebbles, strawberries, and hens' eggs.John usually carried a sling in his hand, or a bow, or a limber stick, sharp at one end, from which he could sling apples a great distance.

If he walked in the road, he walked in the middle of it, shuffling up the dust; or if he went elsewhere, he was likely to be running on the top of the fence or the stone wall, and chasing chipmunks.

John knew the best place to dig sweet-flag in all the farm; it was in a meadow by the river, where the bobolinks sang so gayly.He never liked to hear the bobolink sing, however, for he said it always reminded him of the whetting of a scythe, and that reminded him of spreading hay; and if there was anything he hated, it was spreading hay after the mowers."I guess you would n't like it yourself," said John, "with the stubbs getting into your feet, and the hot sun, and the men getting ahead of you, all you could do."Towards evening, once, John was coming along the road home with some stalks of the sweet-flag in his hand; there is a succulent pith in the end of the stalk which is very good to eat,--tender, and not so strong as the root; and John liked to pull it, and carry home what he did not eat on the way.As he was walking along he met a carriage, which stopped opposite to him; he also stopped and bowed, as country boys used to bow in John's day.A lady leaned from the carriage, and said:

"What have you got, little boy?

She seemed to be the most beautiful woman John had ever seen; with light hair, dark, tender eyes, and the sweetest smile.There was that in her gracious mien and in her dress which reminded John of the beautiful castle ladies, with whom he was well acquainted in books.

He felt that he knew her at once, and he also seemed to be a sort of young prince himself.I fancy he did n't look much like one.But of his own appearance he thought not at all, as he replied to the lady's question, without the least embarrassment:

"It's sweet-flag stalk; would you like some?""Indeed, I should like to taste it," said the lady, with a most winning smile."I used to be very fond of it when I was a little girl."John was delighted that the lady should like sweet-flag, and that she was pleased to accept it from him.He thought himself that it was about the best thing to eat he knew.He handed up a large bunch of it.The lady took two or three stalks, and was about to return the rest, when John said:

"Please keep it all, ma'am.I can get lots more.""I know where it's ever so thick."

"Thank you, thank you," said the lady; and as the carriage started, she reached out her hand to John.He did not understand the motion, until he saw a cent drop in the road at his feet.Instantly all his illusion and his pleasure vanished.Something like tears were in his eyes as he shouted:

"I don't want your cent.I don't sell flag!"John was intensely mortified."I suppose," he said, "she thought Iwas a sort of beggar-boy.To think of selling flag!"At any rate, he walked away and left the cent in the road, a humiliated boy.The next day he told Jim Gates about it.Jim said he was green not to take the money; he'd go and look for it now, if he would tell him about where it dropped.And Jim did spend an hour poking about in the dirt, but he did not find the cent.Jim, however, had an idea; he said he was going to dig sweet-flag, and see if another carriage wouldn't come along.

John's next rebuff and knowledge of the world was of another sort.

He was again walking the road at twilight, when he was overtaken by a wagon with one seat, upon which were two pretty girls, and a young gentleman sat between them, driving.It was a merry party, and John could hear them laughing and singing as they approached him.The wagon stopped when it overtook him, and one of the sweet-faced girls leaned from the seat and said, quite seriously and pleasantly:

"Little boy, how's your mar?"

John was surprised and puzzled for a moment.He had never seen the young lady, but he thought that she perhaps knew his mother; at any rate, his instinct of politeness made him say:

"She's pretty well, I thank you."

"Does she know you are out?"

And thereupon all three in the wagon burst into a roar of laughter, and dashed on.

It flashed upon John in a moment that he had been imposed on, and it hurt him dreadfully.His self-respect was injured somehow, and he felt as if his lovely, gentle mother had been insulted.He would like to have thrown a stone at the wagon, and in a rage he cried:

"You're a nice...." but he could n't think of any hard, bitter words quick enough.

Probably the young lady, who might have been almost any young lady, never knew what a cruel thing she had done.

XI

HOME INVENTIONS

The winter season is not all sliding downhill for the farmer-boy, by any means; yet he contrives to get as much fun out of it as from any part of the year.There is a difference in boys: some are always jolly, and some go scowling always through life as if they had a stone-bruise on each heel.I like a jolly boy.