But how he did wish the others would send something—“something that would count,” as he said. He was down on the ground gathering up a basketful of chips when one of the well-kept horses and the light wagon passed out of the yard and down the lane bearing Mr. Mitchel away to the town. A host of brilliant possibilities suddenly trooped through Kip’s thoughts as he watched the vehicle out of sight. His wish grew into something deeper and stronger.
“Oh please do make him think and bring back something nice for them!” he murmured.
Bud, who had a fashion of appearing in the most unexpected times and places, looked at him wonderingly from around a corner of the wood-pile.
“What makes you do that for?” she asked solemnly.
“’Cause,” answered Kip briefly, with a flush rising to his freckled cheeks. “I don’t care,” he whispered to himself. “The minister’s folks are good and care for other folks, and it’s ’bout time somebody was takin’ care of them.”
Bud did not quite accept the lucid explanation given her. She seated herself on a log and pondered the subject until she reached a conclusion that she considered satisfactory; and after that, though she said nothing about it, she watched quite as eagerly and much more expectantly for her father’s return than did Kip.
There certainly was something new and unusual in the light wagon when at last it drove up to the door again. Both children discovered that at once—Bud from the window, Kip from the piazza—a great, easy, luxurious arm-chair. Mr. Mitchel lifted it out and carried it into the house.
“See here! What do you think of that?” he said to his wife triumphantly. “I happened into a furniture store where they were auctioning everything off and I got this at such a bargain that I took it in a hurry. Isn’t that as comfortable a chair as you ever saw? Just try it.”
Mrs. Mitchel examined and admired; Nancy who came to the kitchen door exclaimed and interjected; and the household generally bestowed such unqualified commendation that Mr. Mitchel’s gratification increased.
“I think I know a good thing when I see it,” he declared, “and this couldn’t be bought anywhere else for that money. Nothing in the world the matter with it either, not a flaw about it except”—showing where the back could be lowered to make it more of a reclining chair—“this spring works a little hard. But a cabinet-maker could fix that in a few moments, and we’ll have it done right away. Kip!” as the boy passed the door—“Kip, could you take this down to the parson’s this afternoon? I want it to go at once.”