They drove Duke in the carriage to the depot station, and left him in a stable close by, so that he would be ready as soon as they returned from the city. Bertie was in the gayest of spirits. He sat by the window, watching the farmers at work in the fields, ploughing, harrowing, or making furrows for putting the seed into their land. He enjoyed all this vastly, because he understood how it ought to be done.
He was so absorbed in watching these operations as they whizzed along past one farm and then another, that he quite forgot the pleasant errand on which he was bound. But suddenly he was recalled to the present by a plaintive voice asking,—"Have a paper, sir? This morning's paper, sir, and all the telegram news."
Mr. Curtis was absorbed in thought, and took no notice of the newsboy; but there was something in the sad voice, which awoke Bertie's quick sympathies.
"Papa! papa!" he repeated, pulling his father's arm, "won't you please buy a paper? See how many the boy has left."
"I've too much on my mind to care for newspapers, dear."
Bertie raised himself till he could speak in his father's ear.
"Please, papa, see how sick he looks. Can't you buy one?"
The gentleman opened his pocket-book, and gave his son fifty cents.
"Use it as you please," he said, softly.
All this time the newsboy had been making change for a coarse, rough-looking man who sat opposite, who was obliged to squirt a whole mouthful of tobacco juice out of his mouth, before he could say,—