Bob had heard such remarks dinned into his ears at every turn for a good while, but one evening an event happened which made matters worse than ever. He was not given to crying, but his cheeks were wet with tears, and as he entered the cottage he looked the picture of misery. He had been turned away from his situation as pig-tender by Farmer Oliver.
Neither mother nor granny waited to ask any questions, but took it for granted that Bob was to blame, and scolded accordingly. They only knew one fact: a little pig, one of his charges, had lost its life— a thing that happens to most pigs sooner or later, only this was sooner, and altogether at the wrong time, and in the wrong way; so Farmer Oliver, sharing the bad opinion of the villagers generally, had first cuffed Bob soundly, and then sent him off with a warning not to show his face on his premises again.
The poorest and most miserable of human beings is rarely quite friendless. Bob had one friend in Miss Amy, and, fortunately for him, she was on her way to his mother's cottage when he entered it in disgrace after his dismissal. If he had but known this! Had he not been in her class at the Sunday-school, and so loth to leave it for a higher, that he had purposely bungled over his lessons and played the dunce so as to stay amongst the little ones and with his beloved teacher?
Miss Amy had found him out, of course, and brought him then and there to tears and penitence. But though he had gone to another class and among the elder boys, he always felt that he belonged to Miss Amy, and she was the one being who ever encouraged and comforted poor Bob.
It was like sunshine to see her enter the cottage now. First she softened mother by telling her that Bob, though rash, thoughtless, and consequently always in hot water, was not such a bad fellow at the bottom. "He was in my class for four years, and no person ever knew Bob tell a lie, say a bad word, or ill-use or tease a child younger than himself," she said.
Then she made granny happy by presenting her with some flannel and a packet of tea, and insisted afterwards that some day she would be proud of her grandson Bob. "He has the making of a fine fellow in him," she continued, "only there's a great deal of smoothing and shaping to be done before the material can be seen to advantage."
However much mothers may scold their own lads, or grandmothers predict evil, the former do not like others to grumble at their offspring any more than do the latter wish their prophecies to come true. Mrs. Marsh's forehead lost its frown as she listened to Miss Amy; and granny for once gave the lad a more kindly look, and hoped the young lady would turn out right in the long run. "Now come with me," said Miss Amy to Bob; "I must try and get Farmer Oliver to take you on again."
"He won't, miss; it's no good," said Bob, hanging back. But he had to go, for there was no resisting Miss Amy. She could not, however, succeed in taking him into the farmer's presence, for Bob had such a lively recollection of the cuffing he had received, that he ran away and hid behind a hedge.
How Miss Amy managed to persuade the farmer—whom she met driving home his own pigs, and very angry at having to do it—to take back Bob and give him one more chance, would take too long to tell. But she did it, and more, for she proved to him that on this particular occasion Bob had really done his best for his unruly flock, only a ferocious dog had proved too much for the young drover, and the one little pig had been the sacrifice.
"I'm afraid, Miss Amy, I was too hasty," replied Farmer Oliver; "but everybody gives that Bob a bad name, and when I saw the pig worried I took it for granted it was his fault. Pigs are not the easiest things to manage, and you know that old saying, 'Give a dog a bad name.' I'm afraid I acted on it in turning off Bob. He may come in the morning, and we'll say no more about it."