Lucky | Page 8

thing or
two, and one thing they know is that dried sunflower stalks are the very
best kindling in the world. Why, I've seen them skylarking about on
this very dairy farm, whisking their tails to keep off the flies, and
gathering sunflowers by the armful. They are all black, my children,

with long hair and horns. I fell in with the captain of the band one day,
and we sat down and had quite a chat."
"Wasn't you afraid?"
"No, the heart of the virtuous knows no fear."
"Why didn't I ever see him? I always pull my sunbonnet over my ears
and eyes, and run as fast as I can whenever I pass a cornfield, for Bub
Royster says he's apt to rush out and catch me any day."
"Ho! He's too much of a gentleman to do that. He'll leave sneaking
ways to Bub Royster and his like. In fact he said as much to me. And
moreover, he said, 'Mr. Fielding,' he always addressed me as Mr., he
was so polite; 'Mr. Fielding,' said he, 'I want to tell you something in
strict confidence. I have an eye to business though I do seem gay and
festive now. I've been thinking pretty hard about that Royster family up
there on the dairy farm. I have been wondering for a long time if I
hadn't better bag them, but I can't make up my mind. The fact is, Mr.
Fielding, (do not mention it, for if it should get abroad 'twould ruin my
reputation forever,) I am half afraid of them, they are so much worse
than I am.' And the father of darkness actually blushed blushed, mind
you, and hid his face in his bandana."
While he was finishing his peculiar little tale, a young lady mounted on
a gentle looking mustang rode up and joined the company. So
engrossed were Lucky and the children that they became aware of her
presence only when she spoke.
"My dear Lucky! What nonsense to be giving those poor, credulous
children!"
Lucky looked half guilty, half amused. Taking off his hat he bowed to
the beautiful creature and muttered something about stating the case as
it stood.
"As it stands in your imagination," was the gay reply. " Don't mind him,
my dears, he isn't truthful. He is a bad boy. He ran away from home

this morning to escape a disagreeable duty, and I'll tell you about it.
One day he hired to a certain Mr. Slocum to do some breaking, but my
fastidious brother, not liking that gentleman's cooking I believe he is
his own housekeeper played hooky, and vowed he'd never go back
again. This morning as his employer came to see about it, the brave
young man shouldered his gun, and escaped through the back window
as Mr. S. entered the front door. Now shame him."
"I'm not to blame now, am I?" said Lucky. "Everybody knows that
Slocum first kneads his bread, then sets it under the stove for the pussy
cat to sleep in. Why, when the bread comes upon the table it is
furnished with such a nice set of furs that it is hard to tell where cat
leaves off and bread begins."
"I don't believe you, Lucky," said his sister.
"Can't help it. Have given you the gospel truth as did the prophets
before me, and if you don't accept it 'tisn't my fault. I've done my duty."
Both Miss Fielding and her brother laughed heartily at this, and Lund
could not help smiling from sympathy. But Nana's countenance did not
change.
"Why so sober, little one?" asked the lady.
"She is thinking of the Great Terrible," said Lucky.
"Come, cheer up, you little wild elfin. There is not a word of truth in
these stories."
"Pooh! I don't care for that," returned Nana, "I've things to bother me
that no one knows."
Lucky and his sister smiled again, thinking this speech caught from her
elders.
"What is the trouble, little witch? Has your doll broken its head?" asked
Miss Fielding.

"I don't have a doll," answered Nana.
"Indeed! wouldn't you like to have one?"
"No, I'd rather have a almanick."
"Why?" again asked the young lady wonderingly.
"Because it is nice to read."
"Then you can read?"
"Yes. I went to school a term once."
"And you love to read?"
"I should say so. It's my only fun. But I have to hide to do it."
Having promised to bring the child a whole armful of story books at no
late date, Miss Fielding and her brother turned to go.
"What an odd child," mused Miss Fielding.
"A regular sprite," said Lucky. " Her name is Nana, the boy tells me;
I've seen him often before, you know. By the way, that