While Caroline Was Growing | Page 7

cows about you, and the long, sweet day free before!
They sipped turn about; the boy divided the orange mathematically; the
pie was filled with fruit of the Hesperides.
"That was mighty good, that dinner," he announced luxuriously, "an'
now I'll have a pipe."
The pungent, fresh odor of the burning tobacco was sweet in the air; a

dreamy content held them quiet.
He did not ask her whence or whither; she had no apologies or regrets.
Two vagabonds from every law of home and duty, they were as
peaceful and unthoughtful of yesterday's bed and to-morrow's meal as
William Thayer, who slept in the sun at their feet.
For long they did not talk. An unspoken comprehension, an essential
comradeship, filled the deep spaces of silence that frighten and irritate
those whom only custom has associated; and Caroline, flat on her filled
stomach, her nose in the grass, was close in thought and vague
well-being to the boy who puffed blue rings toward the little river, his
head on his arms.
"I put the plate into that door in the barn," he said, finally. "Did you put
those silver things back?"
Caroline grunted assent.
"But they wouldn't think that you--what you said," she assured him
earnestly. "It's only tramps they're afraid of."
He glanced quickly over at her, but she was utterly innocent.
"One came to the kitchen once, and asked Mary for some hot tea or
coffee, and she hadn't any, but she said if he was very hungry she'd give
him a piece of bread and butter, and he said to go to hell with her bread
and butter. So she doesn't like them."
The boy gasped.
"You oughtn't to--had you--that isn't just right for you to say, is it?" he
asked awkwardly.
"What--hell?" Caroline inquired placidly. "No, I s'pose not. Nor damn
nor devil, either. But, of course, I know 'em. Those are the only three I
know. I guess they're about the worst, though," she added with
pardonable pride. "My cousin, the Captain, knows some more. He's

twelve 'n a half. But he won't tell 'em to me. He says boys always know
more than girls. I suppose," respectfully, "you know more than those
three, yourself?"
Her companion coughed.
"A boy--" he began, then paused, confronted with her round, trustful
eyes.
"A boy--" he started again, and again he paused.
"Oh, well, a boy's different," he blurted, finally.
Caroline nodded humbly.
"Yes, I know," she murmured.
There was silence for a while. The river slipped liquidly over the stones,
the white clouds raced along the blue above them, the boy smoked. At
length he burst out with:
"You're all right, now! You're just a regular little chum, aren't you?"
She blushed with pleasure.
"I never had anybody along with me," he went on dreamily. "I always
go alone. I--I didn't know how nice it was. I had a chum once, but
he--he--"
The boy's voice trembled. Caroline's face clouded with sympathy.
"Did he die?" she ventured.
"No," he said, shortly; "no, he didn't die. He's alive. He couldn't stand
my ways. I tried to stay in school and--and all that, but soon as spring
came I had to be off. So the last time, he told me we had to part, him
and me."
"What was his name?" she asked gently.

The boy jerked his head toward the dog.
"That's his name," he said, "William Thayer." A little frown gathered
on Caroline's smooth forehead; she felt instinctively the cloud on all
this happy wandering. The spring had beckoned, and he had followed,
helpless at the call, but something--what and how much?--tugged at his
heart; its shadow dimmed the blue of the April sky.
He shrugged his shoulders with a sigh; the smile came again into his
gray eyes and wrinkled his freckled face.
"Oh, well, let's be jolly," he cried, with a humorous wink. "The winter's
comin' soon enough!" and he burst into a song:
"There was a frog lived in a well, Kitty alone, Kitty alone; There was a
frog lived in a well; Kitty alone and I!"
His voice was a sweet, reedy tenor; the quaint old melody delighted
Caroline.
"This frog he would a-wooing ride, Kitty alone, Kitty alone."
She began to catch the air, and nodded to the time with her chin.
"Cock me cary, Kitty alone, Kitty alone and I!"
The boy lifted his polo-cap in a courtly manner, and began with
grimaces and bows to act out the song. His audience swayed responsive
to his every gesture, nodding and beaming.
"Quoth he, 'Miss Mouse, I'm come to thee'-- Kitty alone, Kitty alone;
Quoth he, 'Miss Mouse, I'm come to thee, To see if thou canst fancy
me.' Cock me cary, Kitty alone, Kitty alone and I!"
Caroline swung her hat by its