Farmer Bluff's dog Blazer

by Florence E. Burch

"Not a bit of it," returned the Squire. "I've been waiting this hour or more in Mrs. Crozier's parlour to lecture him."

Then Hal told his tale.

Bill also had heard half-past one go, and had suddenly recollected that he was on a promise of good behaviour. Now, he was sorely perplexed what to do. It was clear enough that his behaviour was not exactly good; but how to tell his story to his own credit, or, in fact, to get believed at all, Bill was entirely at a loss. So, hungry as he was, he did what cowards always do—kept out of it, and went wandering about the fields behind the farm.

"I don't see much in Bill's fine promises," remarked his mother, as her husband set foot on the threshold; "for all the Squire made himself surety for the boy. He ought to ha' been in this hour ago; and I ha'n't set eyes on him since nine o'clock, when he went down to school."

"'Spare the rod and spoil the child,'" quoted Mumby, sitting down heavily in his accustomed corner by the chimney-piece. "I wouldn't ha' let him off so easy for anybody else; but if the worst comes to the worst, why, I must reckon up wi' him, for all the Squires in the world. A father's got his dooty to his boy to think of first; and I ain't agoin' to shirk mine, not for all the firmament." After which paternal speech, he fell to work in silence on the steaming lump of steak pudding which his wife served out to him.

"Now, wife," said he, as he pushed his plate back and got up, "when Bill turns up, you don't give him a scrap o' this, d'ye mind? Dinner-time's when I come in, and, if he ain't ready for his'n then, why, he can go without, or else make shift to fill himself with bread." And having lighted his pipe, he went out again.

But Bill, having once given way to his cowardly fears, grew less and less brave about showing his face at home, and, as he was getting dreadfully famished, he began to wonder how he could get a meal. He thought of the gap in the hedge; but that was almost within sight of home, and the men would be just returning to work. Besides, Bill had had enough of stealing eggs. But it struck him that he might find some small birds' eggs to suck. At the bottom of the field in the hedge which bounded it from the orchard were some trees of which the blackbirds were particularly fond; and to these Bill now directed his steps, in hopes that he might find something to stay his hunger.

He was unusually lucky too. The first nest which he found contained four or five fledglings; but the second and the third had each five eggs in it, all of which he sucked.

"Better than nothing," said Bill to himself, as he threw the last shell down, and prepared to descend the trunk again. "It'd take a lot o' them to make up a goose's egg, though."

But in moving on to the next group of trees, Bill passed the haystack, and, casting a look round, to see that no one was about, whom should he discover but his old enemy, lying fast asleep in the hay, his clothes spread out around him on the grass to dry?