At last, one cold bitter night in winter, a little low tap was heard at the wagoner's door.
"See if that be not Roger!" said his wife.
And Roger it was. Tattered, thin, and wearied, there he stood. He had begged his way and come back all the sixty miles on foot. It was impossible for the good woman to refuse to take him in.
The farmer declared the boy must be an idiot, when she went to him in the morning with her story; but she said, it was all along of his love of a country life.
"He has no turn, like, for scholarship," said she. "Could not you please to find him some work to do on the farm, and give him a trial?" Nancy looked imploringly through her tears, and Mrs. Truman said a kind word for him; so the farmer consented, and Roger was made cow-boy that very day.
Never was such a change seen as came over him. He brightened up. He shewed himself the most active, clever boy that had ever been there. He soon learned to do all manner of things, and was always ready to help at everything. He could harness the horses for ploughing or carting, clean them, feed them, or bring them back. He could feed the pigs and calves, drive the sheep to the fold, and at shearing time, hay-making, and harvesting, was of the greatest use. In short, as the men said, he could lend a hand at anything; and all this was done without neglecting his cows. Before he was sixteen he was made a carter, and drove a team of horses, with a great whip on his shoulder, and a white smock frock on; and no king was ever prouder of his sceptre and his robes. The farmer said he never had a better lad in his service, and he hoped he would never leave it, but grow up to be one of his regular labourers, and have a good cottage, and get a good wife of his own.
THOMPSON AND DAVIDSON. PRINTERS, GREAT ST. HELENS, LONDON.
Transcriber's Notes:
hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in the original