Gaspar went on with his task of clearing the barn floor and arranging tying places for the visitors’ teams; but his dark face was clouded and anxious, showing little of the anticipation which Abel’s did.
“I’m going to ask you, Father Abel, to let me try for a job somewhere else; that is, if you can’t really pay me anything, as your wife declares. Then, by and by, when I can earn enough to get ahead a little, I’d pay you back for all you’ve spent on us three.”
Abel’s face had fallen, and he now looked as if he might be expecting some dire disaster rather than a frolic. But it brightened presently.
“Yes, Gaspar; I know you’re big, and well-growed. But you’re young yet—dreadful young——”
“I’m near fifteen.”
“Well, you won’t be out your time till you’re twenty-one.”
“What ‘time’?” asked the lad, angrily, though he knew the answer.
“Hmm. Of course, there wasn’t no regular papers drawed, but it was understood; it was always understood between ma and me that if we took you all in, and did for you while you was growin’ up, your service belonged to us. Same’s if you’d been bound by the authorities.”
“Get over there, Dobbin!”
“Pshaw! You must be real tried in your mind to hit a four-footed creatur’ like that. I hain’t never noticed that you was short-spoke with the stock—not before this morning. I wish you wouldn’t get out of sorts to-day, boy! I—well, there’s things afoot ’at I think you’d like to take a share in. There. That’ll do. Now, just turn another edge on them reapin’ knives, an’ see that there’s plenty o’ water in the troughs, an’ feed them fattin’ pigs in the pen, an’—Shucks! He’s off already. I wonder what’s took him so short! I wonder if he’s got wind of anything out the common!”