W. A. G.'s Tale

by Margaret Turnbull

Then he offered to take me with him, and to carry me part of the way, as I was little and got tired too easily to keep up with him. But though he was kind, and I wanted very much to go with him, and not be left alone, I couldn't, because I remembered this was the day Aunty May was coming home; and now, what would she and the Turners think of me!

I was so sorry that I was pretty near crying, except that the Indian boy was looking at me with his bright eyes, and I remembered that Indians do not cry, and would think me a poor kind of a boy if I did.

So I just shook my head, and told him I must go back and meet Aunty May. He didn't like this, until I had promised him that I would only say he'd left me and had gone on to Carlisle, and I would not say where he'd left me, so that he'd get a fair start. But I didn't like to say even that for fear I'd have to tell what wasn't so, until he told me it was all right, because I didn't know where we were, and he wouldn't tell me.

He told me he liked me very much and was sorry I wouldn't go with him, and he divided the crackers and told me to sit still and not look until I had counted 100. I did, and when I'd finished there wasn't any Henry to be seen.

I ate a cracker, and started back down the road again, and now everybody was up and I met men on the roads and dogs barked at me, and oh, how long the road seemed!

I went on and on till I thought I should fall down, and I was so thirsty I didn't know what to do.

By and by, I came to a place where there was a toll-gate, and then I knew I was lost, for we hadn't passed any on the road coming up, and besides I hadn't any money.

So I stood still and tried to think, but I felt hot and tired and my head went round a little. Then I thought I'd go to the back door of the tollhouse, and then maybe some one would tell me how to go and they wouldn't have to feel so badly about telling me I couldn't get through without any money. So I went round to the back yard and there was nobody in it.

Then I went up to the kitchen door and knocked and nobody came, but I heard a little voice at the kitchen window say, "Hey, boy, what do you want?"

I looked and there was a little boy, just about seven or eight, sitting in a chair by the window, and I came up to it, and called to him—"I want to know the road to East Penniwell, and I want a drink of water."