“No matter who I am,” said the stranger, roughly. “I ain’t got no use for yer, that’s one thing, sure. Now just yer remember, Dave! yer can’t work yer pious notions on me, an’ I’ll do as I like. I’ve been crooked a good long time, now, an’ I’ll stay crooked. Yer was as crooked yerself once, an’ I guess yer are yet, only yer find it don’t pay just at the present time. I’ll leave yer here,” he added with an oath, and suddenly disappeared among the trees by the roadside.
“That surely can’t be your brother, Dave,” said Sophy, disapprovingly. “I don’t like the way he talks, at all. I’m glad he went away. Oh, I’m so glad I saw you, though! I don’t feel half as tired now.”
Dave said little,—he was a lad of few words,—but he held the little girl’s hand and helped her over the rough or the steep places in the road; and at last they were in sight of the house, and the light which shone from an upper window seemed like a beacon of hope to the little wanderer.
And presently she was in the house, with Honor’s arms about her, and Katherine taking her hat and coat, while Victoria ran to the barn, calling to Peter that she was found. He and Victoria had been to the place in the woods where he had left her, and then had come back to get lanterns, and to ask some neighbors to join in the search. The brother and sisters had been quite beside themselves with anxiety, and their joy and relief when Sophy appeared was almost too great for words.
As for Sophy herself, she felt amply repaid for her fatigue and fear when she found herself the centre of importance. She was led in state to the supper table, she was helped before any of the others with the choicest viands, including an egg which B. Lafferty cooked in a little dish especially for her, and brought to her with much circumstance, and, crowning feature of the occasion, a vase of wild flowers which Katherine had gathered that afternoon was placed beside her plate.
When her appetite was somewhat appeased, Sophy recounted her adventures, and even Peter refrained from condemning her with cold criticism, when she described her fear of the snake which had “stuck out its tongue at her.” In fact, she was in every sense of the word the heroine of the evening, and it was so unusual an experience that she could not help enjoying it.
“I wonder where Dave had been,” remarked Honor. “It was odd that he should have come along just at the right moment for you, Sophy. I am perfectly thankful that he did. Do you suppose that was his brother, Peter?”
“Don’t know,” replied Peter, as he helped himself to toast, and proceeded to butter it with a lavish hand. “Carney’s got a brother, only he never says much about him.”
“Peter, it is very bad form to spread butter on your bread or your toast like that!” said Katherine. “You ought to put it on just where you are going to eat it.”
“Pshaw! Who cares for form?” demanded Peter, crunching his toast with an air of distinct enjoyment. “What I want is taste, not form, Miss K. R. Starr.”