A FUGITIVE.
Plums enjoyed his dinner quite as much as if he had performed his full share of the gardening, and, when the meal was concluded, there came into his mind the thought that aunt Dorcas Milford's home was a most pleasant abiding-place.
Even though he was, so to speak, in temporary exile, he was exceedingly well content, save for the disagreeable fact that Joe had stated positively he should go back to Weehawken on the following day.
It seemed as if the thoughts of both the guests were running in the same channel, for Joe, after gazing a moment at aunt Dorcas's placid face, gave vent to a sigh of regret, and then looked out of the window, abstractedly.
"I s'pose we'd better get that garden planted this afternoon, if you've got the seeds, aunt Dorcas, an' even then we sha'n't be payin' for what we've had," Joe said, after a long pause, while the three yet remained at the table.
"Perhaps it will be as well to wait until to-morrow, and give the newly turned earth a chance to get warm," the little woman said.
"It seems as though we ought to do it to-day, if it would be jest as well for the garden, 'cause we don't count on your keepin' us for ever; an' after we leave here to-morrow it wouldn't be right to come back."
"I did think boys would be a dreadful nuisance around the house," aunt Dorcas began, as if speaking to herself, "but somehow I've felt real contented-like while you've been here, and it's a deal more cheerful with three at the table than to sit down alone."
"It's the first time I was ever in a house like this," Joe added, in a low tone. "It's awful nice, an' fellers what have a reg'lar home must be mighty happy."
"Where did you live in the city?" aunt Dorcas asked, after a pause.