CHAPTER VIII.
KING WINTER.
If Fred had been the hero of one of the stories of good little boys, whose pages our mothers and grandmothers used to bedew with salt tears, from the hour of his midnight talk with Bess his whole character would have undergone a sudden and miraculous change. But he was only a natural boy, just starting to fight his own way against heavy odds, and his progress was slow and tiresome. Though he forced himself to go out with Bess, and to see the boys when they came to the house, he still had the old longing to avoid them, and the old quick temper would flash out at Rob now and then. But Bess, watching him closely, could see his struggle, and often rejoiced over some victory too slight to attract the attention of any one else. With a quiet word of suggestion or encouragement she helped the boy onward when he was cross and discouraged, or let fall some expression of approval to show that she appreciated his efforts to live well, as a hero should do.
The first meeting with the boys was a trying one on both sides. Sam, in particular, was so anxious to make the most soothing remarks, that he well-nigh overwhelmed Fred by his expressions of sympathy and solicitude. But just as Fred felt he could endure it no longer, and must beat a retreat, Bert came to the rescue with some well-timed question that turned the conversation to less personal subjects. It was by no means the first time that Bess had been grateful to Bert for his quick perception of danger signals in the conversation, and she hastily followed his lead. But the hour the boys spent together was rather a stiff one, for Fred was silent and shy, and the boys had not the courage to approach him, as they felt, more strongly than ever, the sad difference between them. It was with a sigh of relief that Fred heard the door close behind them; and, returning to the parlor, he threw himself wearily into a chair, while Fuzz climbed on his knee and licked his face. A moment afterwards Bessie's hand was laid on his shoulder.
"In a brown study, Fred?" she asked gayly.
"Yes—no—I don't know," was the somewhat vague response.
"What is it now?" she inquired, as she bent over the fireplace to pile up the scattered embers.
"Nothing, only I didn't enjoy the boys much," said Fred candidly. "And I don't think they enjoyed me. Do you think we shall ever have any more fun together, Miss Bess?"
"Yes, indeed, Fred! It will take a little while to make up for the year you have lost. But be patient; the time will come, and come soon. Was it as bad as you expected?"
"I am afraid it was," confessed Fred. "Sam was the worst of all."