“Yes,—they turned him into the pasture last night; but they can’t find anything of him this morning,” replied the doctor.
“That is very singular; it looks as if some roguery had been going on,” observed Mr. Davenport.
“O, yes; the barn was set on fire,—there is no doubt of that,” continued the doctor. “There hadn’t been any fire or light near it for several months.”
“Who do they suppose did it?” inquired Clinton, who had returned to the room while the doctor was telling the news.
“They don’t suspect anybody, that I know of,” replied the doctor. “Mr. Walker says he hasn’t the slightest idea who did it, and other folks are as much in the dark as he is. People can’t help thinking of that drunken, vagrant son of his; but, then, I don’t believe Tom would do such a fiendish act, bad as he is.”
“O, no; Tom Walker never could have done such a thing as that,” said Mrs. Davenport.
“Well, I’m sorry it has happened,” said the doctor, as he arose to depart, “not only on Mr. Walker’s account, but because it diminishes the security of the whole community. There is no safety for any of us, when such villains are prowling around. Good-by, Willie; I’ll call to see how you are getting along, in a day or two. Good-day, all.”
Soon after the doctor departed, Clinton and his father rode over to Mr. Walker’s to see the ruins, and to tender their sympathies to the sufferers. It was indeed a sad, and, in that village, an unusual spectacle, that they beheld. The smouldering heaps of half-burned grain and hay, the blackened remains of the animals that perished, the partially consumed carts, ploughs and implements, the iron of which only remained, and the surrounding trees, stripped of every green leaf, presented a gloomy picture of desolation, where peace and plenty smiled but a few hours before. The family had not recovered from their alarm and excitement, and seemed to feel their loss very deeply. Mr. Davenport tendered his sympathies and his services to his afflicted neighbors, and soon after returned home.
Whistler, during the absence of his uncle and cousin, talked quite cheerfully with Annie, and seemed in his usual spirits.
“I’ve got a baby, now, that beats yours,” he said, as Annie brought out her doll to play with it.