Then marvel of marvels, every now and then that engine and great train of cars came puffing and hissing by the house in full view, and the boy’s spirits mounted on wings as he thought of the wonders of the world.
Even with one arm disabled, he took hold at once to help with the work about the place. He fed the chickens, horse and cow. With only one hand he could not learn to milk, though he was eager to do so. He went over to the store on errands and made himself useful in many ways.
One day when at the store he said to Mr. Follet that as soon as his arm was well he would have to be going on to the city to take the fox skin.
“And how under the canopee do you expect to be ridin’ round on the railroad without money?” said Mr. Follet. He knew well the boy had none. “You ain’t a Rockefeller or a Jay Gould, air you?”
These allusions of course meant nothing to the 66 boy, and the question of money was a new one to him. None of his late friends in their simplicity had thought of it, and the man had to make clear the need of it in the business world which Steve had come into. With his people things had always been “swapped”; corn, tobacco and whiskey, for the few things they needed from a store, and he had seen very few pieces of money in his life.
“Now, how under the canopee are you going to come up with the money?” asked Mr. Follet briskly, and with practical pertinence.
Steve certainly did not know and then Mr. Follet proposed that he stay with them through the summer, work for him and he would give him his board and clothes and pay him fifty cents a week.
Steve agreed readily and at once felt a new sense of responsibility and manliness.
When his arm was quite well Mrs. Follet gave him some long white garments which she called “nightshirts,” and told him to undress at night and wear them for sleeping! It was a very needless performance, he felt in his secret heart, but he had already learned to love the gentle woman and he would have done even more foolish things to please her. In fact, the thing which she gave him for brushing his hair seemed at first to bring him to the limit of acquiescence, but the bit of broken looking-glass stuck 67 in one of the timbers of his room soon told him that a little smoothing down of his tousled head made an immense difference in his looks, and somehow made him seem a little more worthy to be in Nancy’s presence.
The little girl had lessons at night from her mother in wonderful books, and Steve listened with rapt attention each time, beginning very soon to catch their meaning. It was not long till he had confided to Nancy how his “mammy” had wanted him to “larn things” too, and that was another reason why he was trying to get to the city.