The Forbidden Trail | Page 3

mother, he threw his arms about her neck and kissed her passionately.
"Oh, Mother! Mother! I love you so! I'm so sorry I slapped your hand. I will be good! Oh, I will be good!"
He took the hand which he had struck in both his own and kissed it.
"Poor hand," he half sobbed, "poor hand!"
"All right, dear," said his mother, freeing her hand gently. "Now, go make up with the other children."
Roger darted out the door and his mother heard him shouting to his playmates.
It was an hour later that she went to the back door, to send Roger home with Charley. What she saw there sent her flying once more to interfere with the children's play. Fastened by bits of rope and twine to the plank were her three choicest sofa cushions, of white silk which she herself had embroidered. A child lay on its stomach on each of these, wildly gesticulating with legs and arms while Roger played the garden hose on them.
The four culprits in a sodden row before her, Mrs. Moore sought counsel from Mrs. Wolf, who had come hurrying at her neighbor's call.
"What shall I do with him? It was his idea, he says."
"Sure it was," exclaimed Roger stoutly. "We were shipwrecked sailors. The tempest had raged for three days like in 'Swiss Family Robinson.'"
"But why did you get the sofa cushions?" asked Mrs. Wolf.
"Oh, that was my invention to make the teeter-tauter more comfortable. Then they made nice waves for us to rest our stomachs on when we swam."
"You knew how I prize those cushions. That one with the roses took me all last winter to do," said Roger's mother sternly.
"I--I--yes, I kind of knew, but I forgot. I always forget when I'm inventing. Don't I, Ern?"
Ern nodded and put his arm over Roger's shoulder.
"I must try to help you to remember, little son." Mrs. Moore sighed. "For three days you cannot play with Ernie and Elschen."
Instantly a howl rose from the two little Wolfs. "We can't play without Roger! It was our fault too!"
"Indeed, that's too hard on all of them, Mrs. Moore. We'll have bedlam for three days," protested Mrs. Wolf.
"But he's always losing his temper and hurting your children," exclaimed Mrs. Moore.
"But he keeps them interested, anyhow," replied the little German mother. "They never ask to go away when Roger is with them. There's something so lovable about him in spite of his temper."
"He hit me in my poor little belly--" began Elschen.
"Elschen!" shrieked her mother.
"Stomach," Elschen substituted hastily. "My poor little stomach. But I don't care, I love him anyhow."
"But how about my sofa pillows?" asked Mrs. Moore.
"We'll give you the money out of our banks," said Ernie.
Elsa jumped up and down. "So we will! And you too, Roger!"
"Sure I will. And I'll iron the roses out for you."
The two mothers looked at each other with a glimmer of a smile in light and dark blue eyes.
"You can each put a quarter in the Sunday School contribution box next Sunday and we'll call it square. Do you agree, Mrs. Wolf?" Then as her little neighbor nodded, Roger's mother went on. "Go change your wet suit, Roger, and take Charley home. Lend me some of Elschen's little things for her, Mrs. Wolf. The child is soaked."
"Mamma! That's a mile out to Prebles'," roared Roger.
His mother looked at him, completely out of patience. "Well, Roger! after this afternoon's various performances!"
"Oh, I'll go!" cried Roger hastily. "I was just talking, that was all!" and he fled to the house.
Roger and Charley, hand in hand, trailed up the street in the haphazard manner of childhood. The Prebles lived on a farm half a mile beyond the limits of the town of Eagle's Wing. The board walk ended not far beyond the Moores' house and the children automatically chose the center of the road where the dust was deepest. By scuffling their bare feet continuously they managed to travel most of the distance to the farm in a cloud of dust which Roger explained was a deep sea fog.
Dick Preble met them at the door of the farm house. Dick was a stocky boy of ten with a freckled face surmounted by a thatch of sandy hair.
"Charley! Where have you been? We thought you were asleep upstairs. Mamma was just getting scared. And whose clothes have you got on?"
Charley rushed headlong past her brother, shrieking for her mother, while Roger struggled with his explanation of certain of the afternoon's complications.
"Gee!" was Dick's comment, "I'll bet Charley gets the paddle whacks for running away."
"You weren't thinking of driving into town, were you?" asked Roger.
"Naw, lazy bones! You can just foot it, after half drowning my sister."
"You better keep your old sister home then," replied Roger, starting for the gate.
It was a long walk for seven-year legs. Roger