into so close relation with his auditor as did this young ranchman with David Dunne. 27

“I must go home,” said the boy reluctantly when Joe had concluded.

“Come down to-morrow, David, and we’ll go fishing.”

“All right. Thank you, sir.”

With heart as light as air, David sped through the woods. He had found his Hero. 28

CHAPTER II

David struck out from the shelter of the woodland and made his way to his home, a pathetically small, rudely constructed house. The patch of land supposed to be a garden, and in proportion to the dimensions of the building, showed a few feeble efforts at vegetation. It was not positively known that the Widow Dunne had a clear title to her homestead, but one would as soon think of foreclosing a mortgage on a playhouse, or taking a nest from a bird, as to press any claim on this fallow fragment in the midst of prosperous farmlands.

Some discouraged looking fowls picked at the scant grass, a lean cow switched a lackadaisical tail, and in a pen a pig grunted his discontent.

David went into the little kitchen, where a woman was bending wearily over a washtub.

“Mother,” cried the boy in dismay, “you said you’d let the washing go till to-morrow. That’s why I didn’t come right back.” 29

She paused in the rubbing of a soaped garment and wrung the suds from her tired and swollen hands.

“I felt better, David, and I thought I’d get them ready for you to hang out.”

David took the garment from her.

“Sit down and eat this ice cream Miss M’ri sent––no, I mean Joe Forbes sent you. There was more, but I sold it for half a dollar; and here’s a pail of eggs and a drawing of tea she wants you to sample. She says she is no judge of black tea.”

“Joe Forbes!” exclaimed his mother interestedly. “I thought maybe he would be coming back to look after the estate. Is he going to stay?”

“I’ll tell you all about him, mother, if you will sit down.”

He began a vigorous turning of the wringer.

The patient, tired-looking eyes of the woman brightened as she dished out a saucer of the cream. The weariness in the sensitive lines of her face and the prominence of her knuckles bore evidence of a life of sordid struggle, but, above 30 all, the mother love illumined her features with a flash of radiance.

“You’re a good provider, David; but tell me where you have been for so long, and where did you see Joe?”

He gave her a faithful account of his dinner at the Brumble farm and his subsequent meeting with Joe, working the wringer steadily as he talked.

“There!” he exclaimed with a sigh of satisfaction, “they are ready for the line, but before I hang them out I am going to cook your dinner.”

“I am rested now, David. I will cook me an egg.”

“No, I will,” insisted the boy, going to the stove.

A few moments later, with infinite satisfaction, he watched her partake of crisp toast, fresh eggs, and savory tea.

“Did you see Jud and Janey?” she asked suddenly.

“No; they were at school.”

“David, you shall go regularly to school next fall.” 31

“No,” said David stoutly; “next fall I am going to work regularly for some of the farmers, and you are not going to wash any more.”

Her eyes grew moist.

“David, will you always be good––will you grow up to be as good a man as I want you to be?”

“How good do you want me to be?” he asked dubiously.

A radiant and tender smile played about her mouth.

“Not goodygood, David; but will you always be honest, and brave, and kind, as you are now?”

“I’ll try, mother.”

“And never forget