OWEN FINDS HIMSELF A PRISONER.
The little girl, with that wonderful intuition that leads children to know who are in full sympathy with their hearts, seemed to need no other guide than that one look into his smiling face, and she was ready to trust him fully. Owen held out his hand impulsively.
"I am your cousin, Owen Dugdale. Perhaps you may have heard of me; and I want to say I'm awful glad to make your acquaintance, Jessie Ferguson. I didn't know I even had a cousin until just a short time ago this night; and I came out on purpose to see what you were like. Look! I carry a picture of my mother in this little waterproof case fastened around my neck. That is what she looked like when she was a very little girl; and you are her image. I'm glad I came back here now; something seemed to whisper to me that it was best, and I know it was her dear spirit speaking to my heart."
The child took the little locket and glanced at the face it contained, at the same time uttering a cry of delight.
"Why, it is my picture. But you said it was your mother—that must have been my Aunt Jessie! And you are my cousin, then? I have heard grandpapa speak of you. But you don't look bad, and he said——" and there she suddenly stopped, while Owen's face flushed angrily with a sudden wave of resentment.
"What did he say—I want you to tell me?" he asked imperiously.
"I wish I hadn't spoken—he said you were a willful, headstrong boy—there; but I think he didn't know you," she answered, clinging to his hand in a confiding way that gave Owen the joy of his life.
With that he laughed, this time aloud.
"I guess he knows the Gregory spirit all right. I am headstrong; yes, and willful, too, for I wouldn't be a Gregory otherwise. But don't let us talk any more about that. Show me your new dolly. I don't know anything about dolls, and never had one in my hands in all my life, for you see we didn't have a little girl in our home, and the neighbors were miles off. But I'd like to know your dolly. I heard you singing her to sleep. Ain't you afraid all this talking might wake her up?" he went on.
"Oh, no. She sleeps so soundly you see. I can do anything with her and she never cries. There, take her for a little while, Cousin Owen. How funny it is to know a real and true cousin. I never met one before; but I wanted to. I get awful lonely sometimes, for you see it's only me and grandpapa at the table; and he is so busy he can't play much with a little girl like me. Won't you stay here and be my real cousin? I don't think I'd mind it much if there was only somebody like you to talk with me. I get so tired being alone; and dolly won't answer me; she lets me do all the talking."
This ingenuous manner of speech, perhaps a trifle oldish in its way for a wee lassie of less than eight, acted like magic upon the heart of the desolate boy, who had known no home ever since his mother passed over to the Far Beyond; he then and there mentally vowed that he would settle this business before he turned in that night; and it was already a foregone conclusion as to what his decision must be—he could not bear the thought that he would never see this little fairy again.
"I'll think of it, Jessie—you'll let me call you cousin, won't you?" he said.
"Why, of course; we are cousins, ain't we? And you must be sure to say you'll stay, because I know grandpapa wants you; he told me so. He is getting old, and we worries a lot about me, just as if anybody would want to run away with a poor little child like me; but I heard him say that if Owen was only here to be with me he'd feel so much more contented. So you see you must stay, because grandpapa wants you to, and I want you ever so much, and dolly—don't hold dolly that way, boy. All the blood will run to her head, poor thing. I'll show you how you must do it," and like a wise little mother she took the imperiled one in her arms, held her close to her heart and began crooning so sweetly that Owen was enraptured more than ever. Here was a revelation, and it had come upon him as suddenly as a shooting star bursts upon the vision of the night watcher, and goes swiftly speeding down the heavens amid the spangled hosts of other worlds.
Owen had not felt so happy in the whole course of his life, for he saw before him a wonderful change in his miserable existence, and a future home amid surroundings so pleasant that he could hardly believe it could be meant for him.
Having quieted the imaginary disturbed dolly she tucked the object of her anxious care into its crib, as if doubting the expediency of allowing her in the clumsy grip of this newly found cousin until he had been given a few lessons on the way to hold little girls' babies.
"Now," she said, having patted the clothes that covered the object of her solicitude with a careful hand, "we can talk a little, if you will be sure not to speak too loud. Grandpapa often wakes her when he comes in, his voice is so awful gruff; but then he never means to and is always so sorry. He grabs us both up, but he kisses me more than he does my poor dolly."
Owen thought grandpapa was a very sensible old man, after all, and that given the opportunity he believed, indeed, he knew, that he would show the same partiality.
He was not quite ready to face the old factor as yet; before that came about he wanted to be by himself and look the matter calmly in the face, so as to decide once and for all, though deep down in his soul the boy knew that this self-scrutiny must be pretty much of a farce, since he would never be content to go away now and see this cunning little fairy cousin no more.
Still, he did not want Alexander Gregory to come in suddenly and find him there, so he considered that, having made the acquaintance of Jessie, he had better leave.
If she chose she could tell the old man of his visit and that would break the matter gently, so that when it came time for Owen to face his grandfather the factor would be prepared to extend the olive branch, if so inclined.
"Now I must be going, Cousin Jessie; I'm glad to have made the acquaintance of your wonderful dolly, but more than that to know you, and I hope to see you again tomorrow. Kiss your dolly for me when she wakes, won't you?" he said, with another of those smiles that had quite won the heart of the demure little maid.
"Why, of course, if you give me one for her," she remarked, without the slightest affectation, and as if it were the most natural thing for one cousin to thus salute another on parting.
Well, he did, with the greatest pleasure he had ever known without any exception, and if the kiss were a bit bunglingly given that could be excused on the plea of lack of experience.
And with the pressure of those rosebud lips against his went the last lingering gleam of Owen's former resolution to hold resentment against the factor, because of his harsh treatment of the mother whose memory he treasured.
So he went out again into the night air, but it was no longer the same Owen as of yore who looked up to the star-bedecked sky—many a time and oft he had found sighs welling from his heart as he contemplated the heavens and speculated upon what little of hope the future held for him; but now he was thrilled with joy and peace such as he had never known.
He sauntered around for a time trying to collect his thoughts, but there were so many things to distract his attention within the great stockade that he concluded it would be advisable to walk outside, where he could be really alone with his reflections.
Before doing so, however, he could not resist the temptation to steal back once more for another glimpse of the little fairy under the factor's roof, so that he could carry the picture with him while he settled the momentous question.
Perhaps he felt a vague sense of its all having been a dream, and wished to thus reassure himself as to the reality.
Be that as it might, some subtle power took him back to the vicinity of the door through which he had first caught his glimpse of Jessie, the flower of Fort Harmony. For the first time he believed the post to be well named, after all.
All seemed to be quiet in that part of the stockade, and as he did not wish any one to see what he was doing, Owen carefully made out to avoid contact with such of the habitues of the post who might still be wandering about.
Thus he came to where he could look through the still open door.
The child was there, and seemed to be holding her precious dolly in her arms as she rocked to and fro in a little chair; and Owen smiled to see that every now and then the diminutive maid would bend down and kiss the inanimate face with the greatest vigor.
Perhaps she was keeping her word and giving dolly the salute this new and "awfully nice" cousin had left for her.
The picture was something worth while carrying with him as he went out to commune with his thoughts and decide on his future.
Owen was just about tearing himself away, much against his will, when he became aware of a strange thing.
Apparently some one else was hovering around that darkened part of the stockade with the express purpose of peeping in at the door and feasting their eyes on the pretty picture disclosed, for he discovered a head between himself and the opening and which certainly did not belong to the old factor by any means.
The man wore a skin cap and must belong to the brigade of trappers working for the company, else why should he be here; but what right had he prowling around at the back of the factor's dwelling at this time of night?
Owen felt indignation taking hold of him, and this was increased tenfold when to his surprise he saw that the individual was actually beginning to glide noiselessly through the doorway.
It may be all very right for a cousin to do this, especially when invited by the little lady of the room to enter and make the acquaintance of her new doll, but in another it must appear a crime.
So Owen stood there, quivering with suspense and indignation, hardly knowing what he ought to do under the circumstances.
Who was this individual and by what right did he dare to enter here?
When the light fell upon his face Owen saw that so far as he was concerned the other was a stranger, and a man with gray streaks in his beard; but that put the boy no wiser than before.
Unconsciously Owen began to advance closer to the open door, as if he believed it might devolve upon him to act as the child's protector, although in one sense it seemed ridiculous to suspect that danger could menace her, here in the domain of her grandfather, the factor, whose word was law.
The man glided forward and seemed to speak to the child, for Owen saw her turn and survey him wonderingly; then it seemed as if she shrank back when the man put out his arms, still speaking in a wheedling tone, and Owen could see Jessie shaking her little head in a decided negative in answer to his questions—evidently the intruder was well known to her, but at the same time she seemed to have no good opinion of him, and again and again repulsed his advances, each time more decidedly, until the man lost all discretion and proceeded to show a different side to his nature.