h, tom,” said minnie, “is not this a terrible misfortune that has happened to poor mrs. bright?”
tom gave a sort of grunt of assent.
“and the baby so ill! mother doubts if he will live over the night! i am glad that you found the doctor so soon. but what can have become of dear little johnny? the barnes and the smiths have been all on the search; they say that if the wind had not been blowing the dust so much along the lane, the little fellow might have been tracked by his footsteps. no one can imagine where he can have gone,—he is so[118] very young,—so unable to wander far. poor polly! i am so sorry for her!”
“i wish that you would not be talking for ever about johnny!” exclaimed tom in a petulant tone.
“how can one think or talk of anything else?” replied minnie sadly,—“i did so love that noble boy!”
“have done with it!” cried her brother, more angrily than before.
minnie looked at him with pain, and then said in a low tone, “i thought that you had even joined in the search.”
“i have joined,—i would give anything to find him!” exclaimed tom, striking his hand on the table as he spoke, with such passionate energy that he almost startled his sister.
“did you see nothing of the dear child,” said minnie, as a thought suddenly occurred to her, “when you came to our cottage,—just before you went for the doctor, you know?”
[119]“didn’t i tell you that i wanted to hear no more about the matter!” cried tom, his whole face becoming the colour of crimson.
minnie’s eyes were fixed upon him, steadily, earnestly; rude, bold boy as he was, he shrank from her piercing gaze. going nearer to her brother, and speaking very distinctly, but in a voice hardly above a whisper, she said, “i believe that you know more about johnny than you will tell.”
“believe what you like, and let me alone.”
“tom, i implore you, hide nothing from us. oh, think of the misery of the poor broken-hearted mother!” and she laid her hand upon his arm.
“speak another word and i’ll strike you!” cried tom, roughly shaking her off.
“strike me if you will, but i must speak. where did you see that child last?”
“you can get nothing out of me,” growled tom.
“then i must call those who can,” said minnie firmly, turning round as if to quit[120] the cottage. “this is a matter of life or death.” she looked pale, but very determined.
“whom are you going to call?” said tom, his manner betraying some fear.
“my mother—if necessary, the clergyman—or—the magistrate!”
tom caught her by the arm as he exclaimed, “stop, minnie, oh, stop,—you shall hear all and judge! i don’t know where the boy is,—i would give my right hand that i did. it is true that i saw him last, and i have searched all the place again and again. you would not betray me—you would not, minnie?—you might ruin me, but could not help johnny. sit down here, and listen to me quietly, and you shall know everything that has happened!”
minnie sat down beside him, her heart beating fast. he gave her a short but true account of what had passed, omitting, however, some little particulars which we shall relate more at length.
[121]you will remember that we left poor johnny crying in the lane, vainly trying to call back his sister, as she hurried in pursuit of the pedlar. when the child found his terrors unheeded, his loud roar gradually sank into a low broken sob, he scrambled to his feet, rubbed his plump dusty hand across his eyes to brush away the tears, and began to think of trotting back to the cottage.
just as the little fellow was commencing his journey, he heard a voice call him from the other side of the hedge which bordered the narrow lane. at first, fancying that it might be silly sally, with whom he had been threatened, johnny was inclined to run the faster for the call; but he soon knew tom, when he saw him clambering over and holding something in his hand.
“here’s something for you, my jolly little man!” cried tom, who amused himself sometimes by playing with, but more often by teasing, his little rosy-cheeked neighbour.
“what got?” asked the child, as tom[122] jumped down beside him. johnny was always sparing of his words.
a nest of little birds.
“a nest of little birds that was swinging on a bough. i knocked off the nest, and down came the birds!”
“all dead!” said johnny sadly.
“why, yes; you see they had some way[123] to fall. the little things broke their necks, so there was an end of them.”
[124]
tom teasing johnny
[125]“poor ’ittle birds! knocked off tree!” said the pitying child. tom was provoked at seeing the pity.
“what a silly little goose you are, johnny! it was fine fun to set nest and all a-flying, and finish the whole family at once!”
but whatever might be the opinion of tom, the plump little cottager kept to his own, and only more sadly repeated the words, “poor ’ittle birds! knocked off tree!”
“oh, if you’ve such a fancy for swinging on a tree, we’ll have you up directly, and make an ‘’ittle bird of you!’” and laughing at the struggles and entreaties of the child, tom suddenly lifted him over the hedge, and followed him into the field, flinging the wretched dead birds into a ditch.
in vain johnny kicked and pushed and roared; tom was a remarkably tall and[126] strong boy, and catching the poor child up in his arms, he ran with him across the field. there was another hedge at the opposite side, which tom passed as easily as he had done the first, and they now found themselves at the edge of a wood, thickly filled with trees of various sizes.
it was a delight to tom to cause terror and alarm; no feeling of pity with him ever cut short a joke. in a few moments poor johnny was perched upon a branch, clinging and roaring with all his might.
“there, ‘’ittle bird,’ i hope that you like your bough. shall i shake it an ’ittle, just to give you a nice swing? hold tight, mind you don’t fall, or you’ll break your fat neck as the ’ittle birds did!” then he began to sing—
“hushaby, baby, on the tree-top,
when the wind blows the cradle will rock;
when the bough breaks the cradle will fall,
down comes poor baby, cradle and all!”
how long tom might have gone on tormenting the child no one can tell, if suddenly[127] he had not been struck by the appearance of a curious bee, which had alighted for a moment upon a wild flower near.
“oh, what a splendid bee!” he cried, leaving hold of the branch to which johnny still clung. “sit you there till i catch it. isn’t it a beauty!—i never saw such fine purple wings!”
my reader has probably guessed that it was poor violetta whose fatal beauty had attracted his eye. johnny and his terrors all were forgotten, while tom rushed forward in eager pursuit; the frightened child stopping his crying to watch the chase, which ended in tom’s securing his prize in his handkerchief.
impatient to carry it at once to a safe place, afraid of its either escaping or being crushed in his hold, tom, whose cottage was so near that he could reach it in a few minutes, sprang over the hedge, and ran fast across the field. thus johnny was left in a position of some peril. not knowing how[128] long the boy’s absence might be, he shouted as loudly and as vainly after tom as he before had done after his sister.
“and did you not return soon?” cried minnie, as tom reached this part of his story.
“how could i? mother sent me off directly for the doctor.”
“oh, why, why did you not tell her?”
“very likely, indeed, that i should tell her that i had left little johnny sticking in a tree? i could only hope that he would stick there until i could get back. i returned at full speed from the doctor’s, i can assure you; but when i reached the wood not a trace of the little fellow could i find.”
“o tom,” exclaimed minnie, with a look of horror, “such a terrible thought has struck me!”
“i daresay that it has struck me before,” gloomily replied her brother.
“was it, oh! was it far from the well?”
[129]“if he’s there,” said tom in a hollow voice, “he’s dead long before now.”
“did you search there?”
“i looked down, and saw nothing.”
“looked down! o tom, this is worse than mockery! if the waters were above him—it is so deep—so dark!—”
“what is to be done?” exclaimed the boy.
“some one must go down in the bucket. oh, there is not a moment to be lost!” minnie would have rushed from the cottage, but her brother held her fast.
“there is no use in rousing the village now!” he cried. “do you mean to ruin, to destroy me? minnie, if you betray me—if it is found that the child is drowned—people will say that—that,”—and his look of terror told a great deal more than his words.
“but you never threw him in—it was only foolish play.”
“who can prove that? o minnie, would you bring me to a jail, or perhaps to worse?”
“then let us go ourselves,” exclaimed[130] the little girl, divided between anxiety for her brother and fears for the lost child. “i must either go or send; and if there is danger to you—”
“we will go—do anything, only in pity be silent! minnie, minnie, you cannot tell how miserable i am!”
without pausing another moment, both ran out of the cottage, only fearful lest they should be seen and detained. tom helped minnie over the low hedge; but she hardly needed help, so eager was she to reach the well. the rose-tint of sunset had now given place to evening’s gray, the dew was falling, dark clouds gathered over the sky; but heeding nothing, pausing for nothing, the wingfields pressed on, and were soon standing by the side of the well.
