Lucky | Page 3

to tell you something. It's a nawful secret!"
"Well, what is it!"
"By to-morrer morning, the Roysters will all be dead!" she answered in
a whisper not untinged with awe.
"The young 'un's crazy," Lund muttered.
"No I aint, and you'll see for yourself and oh, Lund, did you get my
almanick?"
"No. Forgot it. Come on to supper."

But Nana did not care for supper. That almanac had been the desire of
her heart for days. The Royster family had no books, not even a bible,
and the almanac, especially if there were pictures, contained for the
lonely child, food for a whole year of dreams. She crept up to her
ragged bed in the garret under the rafters, to sob out her disappointment.
She had not been there long when a rough, though not unkindly voice
called:
"Nane!"
The girl sat up and dried her tears.
"It's Lund! Maybe he has been teasing me, and has brought the
almanick, after all! Oh, Lund, where is it?" holding out her hand.
"Here," said Lund, depositing in the outstretched palm, a huge piece of
corn-bread savored with sorghum molasses.
"Oh, no, not that!"
"Well, what did you expect? Apple-pie and plumpuddin?"
"No, no! I only want my almanick!" she sobbed.
"I--I forgot it," stammered Lund. "I didn't go near the burg to-day. I
didn't know you cared so much. What do you want an almanick for
anyway, kid?"
"Oh, Lund, they are de-light-ful! Such pictures, and such readin'."
"Well, I'll go to-morrer, cross my heart, I will!"
"Bless you, Lund!" and Nana threw her arms about the boy's neck, and
kissed him.
"Oh my! The girl is crazy shore enough!" muttered Lund. "But," he
observed, after a little reflection, "I don't know but I like such craziness,
after all."

"You, Lundy!" called Mrs. Royster sharply, from below.
"I must go; Mis' Royster's a callin'," said Lund reluctantly.
"What are you a doin' a wastin' your time up there? Come down here
this minute, or I'll pack you right off to the Perform School! There's the
young calves to feed, and the turkeys to shut up, and the kindlin' to get
in 'gainst mornin'. What with you and that shiftless girl a shirkin' of
your work, I'll be driv' to my grave," the voice continued.
"Good-bye, kid. Sorry I can't stay," said Lund.
"You won't forget to remember to-morrer," the girl asked, creeping
close to him, and laying her cheek against his ragged sleeve.
"Catch me a forgettin'."
"If you aint the laziest, good for nothingest rascal that ever lived!" from
below.
"Yes'm, yes'm," answered Lund promptly, thus pouring oil on the
troubled waters.
An hour later every one on the farm was asleep except the boy. He was
tossing to and fro on his hard bed saying over and over to himself:
"She did take it hard didn't she? Well, I'll get it for her to-morrer, shore.
Pore little kid!"
CHAPTER II.
A DREAMING GIRL AND A PRAIRIE KNIGHT.
-- YOU, Lundy!"
"W-h-a-a-t?" was the drowsy reply.
"Is that the way to speak to me, you pack o' lazy bones? Why don't you
say, 'what mum' to your betters!"

"What mum?" repeated Lund obediently.
"You jest stir your stumps now and mount up to that loft, and tell that
girl to be up and about a searchin' for them ducks, for I swear she shan't
have a bite to eat till I see them, every blessed one before my very
eyes."
Having issued these peremptory orders, Mrs. Royster went her way
singing:
"How tedious and tasteless the hour."
She did not know the hymn and never got beyond the first line,
following out the air with a cracked and doleful hum. The farm hands
averred that she made many an hour tedious and tasteless for them with
that hum.
Lund opened his eyes, surprised to find it morning so soon. He arose
and dressed, then climbed the shaky ladder very softly, lest he should
awaken the sleeper a moment before he must. Lund's hours of slumber
were dear to him, being as they were the happiest of his life, and it
seemed cruel to rouse the girl from sweet unconsciousness to ugly hard
reality. Besides, Nana had become an especial object of consideration
to him since the previous night. No one but she had ever kissed him
since the day his mother had been laid to rest in the back woods of
Iowa.
"Nane!" he called gently, perking his head up over the floor of the loft.
No answer.
"Nane!" still louder.
"H-e-y?" from the corner where Nana lay, half asleep, half awake.
"Mis' Royster says--"
"Ain't she dead yet?" inquired the drowsy Nana.
"Dead, Nane? What do you mean?"

"Just what I say. Well, if she ain't, she will be soon. Tell her