“Don’t you worry,” answered Ben. “I’ve passed my word, and I never broke it yet. I can manage to give her somethin’ and make it seem natural. What do you say to makin’ her a bracelet out o’ them curls of yourn that we shaved off?”
“That red hair! Frederic would know it at once,” and Marian shook her head ruefully, but Ben persisted. “’Twould look real pretty, just like gingerbread when ’twas braided tight,” and bringing out the curls, he selected the longest one, and hurried off.
The result proved his words correct, for when a few days after he brought home the little bracelet, which was fastened with a neat golden clasp, Marian exclaimed with delight at the soft beauty of her hair:
“Darling Alice,” she cried, kissing the tiny ornament, “I wish she could know that my lips have touched it—that it once grew on my head—but it wouldn’t be best. She couldn’t keep the secret, and you mustn’t tell.”
“Don’t worry, I say,” returned Ben. “I’ve got an idee in my brains for a wonder, and I’m jest as ’fraid of tellin’ as you be. So cheer up a bit and grow fat, while I’m gone, for I want you to be well when I come back, so as to go to school and get to be a great scholar, that Mr. Raymond won’t be ashamed on when the right time comes,” and Ben spoke as cheerfully as if within his heart there was no grave where during the weary nights when he watched with Marian he buried his love for her, and vowed to think of her only as a cherished sister.
Marian smiled pleasantly upon him, watching him with interest as he made up his pack, consisting of laces, ribbons, muslin, handkerchiefs, combs and jewelry, a little real, and a good deal brass, “for the niggers,” he said. Many were the charges she gave him concerning the blacks, telling him which ones to notice particularly, so as to report to her.
“Jehoshaphat!” he exclaimed at last, “how many is there? I shall never remember in the world,” and taking out a piece of paper, he wrote upon it, “Dinah, Hetty, Lid, Victory, Uncle Phil, Josh, and the big dog. There!” said he, reading over the list, “if I don’t bring you news of every one, my name ain’t Ben Burt. I’ll wiggle myself inter their good feelin’s and get ’em to talkin’ of you, see if I don’t.”
Marian had the utmost confidence in Ben’s success, and though she knew she should be lonely when he was gone, she was glad when, at last, the morning came for him to leave them. Ben, too, was equally delighted, for the novelty lent a double charm to the project; and, bidding his mother and Marian good-by, he gathered up his large boxes, and whistling a lively tune, by way of keeping up his spirits, started for Kentucky.
CHAPTER XII.
THE YANKEE PEDDLER.
The warm, balmy April day was drawing to a close, and the rays of the setting sun shone like burnished gold on the western windows of Redstone Hall. It was very pleasant there now, for the early spring flowers were all in blossom, the grass was growing fresh and green upon the lawn, and the creeping vines were clinging lovingly to the time-worn pillars, or climbing up the massive walls of dark red stone, which gave the place its name. The old negroes had returned from their labors, and were lounging about their cabins, while the younger portion looked wistfully in at the kitchen door, where Dinah and Hetty were busy in preparing supper. On the back piazza several dogs were lying, and as their quick ears caught the sound of a gate in the distance, the whole pack started up and went tearing down the avenue, followed by the furious yell of Bruno, who tried in vain to escape from his confinement.