JOHN BENTON, on his part.
Budd read the paper, and could scarcely suppress a smile as he signed his name under Mr. Benton's, and in imitation of him, added the words "on his part" after the signature. He knew, however much importance Mr. Benton might attach to it, that as a legal document it had no special force. He simply set the whole act down as one of the whims of his employer, and gave no more thought to the matter. But it was destined to serve that gentleman's purpose, nevertheless, until taken forcibly from him.
Mr. Benton now showed Budd up to a back room on the second floor, and telling him that he would call him early in the morning, bade him good-night.
The room the lad had entered was bare and cold. A single chair, a narrow bedstead, a rude rack on the wall to hang his garments upon, were all it contained. Yet it was evidently with some satisfaction that the lad opened his bundle, hung up the few clothes it held, and prepared for bed. As he drew the quilts over himself he murmured:
"I don't think I ever had more uncomfortable quarters in my life, and the outlook for the next six months, at least, is far from encouraging. Still, I would not go back to what I have left behind for anything."
He was tired. The rain that was now falling heavily upon the roof just over his head acted as a sedative and lulled him to sleep. But his was not an unbroken rest, for at times he tossed to and fro, and muttered strange sentences. One was, "Father never did it; how could they treat him so?" Another, "I can never face them again; no, never!" Still another, "Thank Heaven, mother never lived to know the worst!" After that the troubled sleeper must have had pleasanter dreams, for he murmured the words, "Mother; father; a home at last!" From these, however, he was rudely awakened by a gruff call:
"Budd! Budd! get up and come out to the barn."
Dazed, bewildered, he arose, and groped about in the darkness for his clothing. By the time he was dressed a full consciousness of his situation had come back to him, and with a stout heart he went out, to begin what was to him equally new duties and a new life.
[CHAPTER II.--A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING.]
It was still dark, and the rain fell in torrents as Budd opened the kitchen door and ran hastily out to the barn, where Mrs. Benton, who was making preparations for breakfast, had told him he would find her husband. He noticed the kitchen time-piece as he passed through the room, and knew it was not yet four o'clock. Early rising was evidently one of the things to be expected in his new home.