“Let me get into the sleigh with you and we will talk it over,” Mr. Danforth said, stepping in quickly. Ben sprang in at the other side and pushed the blue-and-white flannel bundle to the floor, under the seat.
“Now, first of all, tell me why you are going to run away?” Mr. Danforth inquired in such a friendly, sympathetic tone that Ben could not help opening his heart at once.
“I want to earn a lot of money, sir. You see, my father’s away teaching, and he isn’t very well, so he can’t send us much money. And mother—mother has to buy so many things, she was counting on her fingers last night,—coal, and things to eat, and clothes, and pay the hired man, and pay the rent, and she just gets all the fingers paid off and she has to begin again. She spent her last money yesterday for coal, and she won’t have any more till the first of January, and I can’t stand it, sir; I’ve got to earn some money to help her.” Ben turned aside with a sound very much like a sob, but which of course must not be heard from a boy who was going to run away. Bravely facing ahead again after a moment he added: “I want to earn a lot of money, so that mother won’t have to work so hard and so that we can go and live with father.”
“Do you help your mother any now?” Mr. Danforth inquired in the same quick, sympathetic voice.
“Yes, sir, a little; I feed and take care of the hens and I do errands and shovel snow and help with the market-garden, and I talk over things with mother, and I take the Convalescings out driving pleasant Saturday mornings and vacations.” Ben named everything he could think of, for he wanted to prove that he was a capable and trusty boy. He looked up, anxiously: “Maybe, as you live in the city, you could tell me where to begin work?”
“Who will do all those things for your mother if you run away, Ben?” came the next question.
“Why—she can hire a boy with the money I send,” Ben answered, miserably.
“I wouldn’t run away just yet, Ben, if I were you,” said Mr. Danforth very gravely. “Your mother might get used to that other boy. Boys who run away always want to come back home, and once in awhile their fathers and mothers won’t let them come back, but send them off to some institution. Think it over awhile, Ben. It’s queer, but you are the very boy I wanted to see this morning.”
Ben turned questioningly toward his companion. There was a keen, clear sparkle in Mr. Danforth’s gray eyes, and good-humoured lines around his firm mouth.
“What do you say to our spending a part of the morning at that wonderful hut near your house, which Elsa has told me about? We can talk some more of your running away, and I want your advice about a Christmas surprise for the Club.”