Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration: THE GOOSE DUCKED HER HEAD, OPENED HER WINGS,
AND RUSHED FORWARD WITH A SCREAM.]
FARMER BLUFF'S
DOG BLAZER
OR
AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR
BY
FLORENCE E. BURCH
AUTHOR OF "JOSH JOBSON," "RAGGED SIMON," ETC.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY GORDON BROWNE_
LONDON
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
56 PATERNOSTER ROW AND 65 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD
[Illustration]
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
I. IN SEARCH OF A COMPANION
II. GRIP AND BLAZER
III. FARMER BLUFF
IV. THE SQUIRE'S GRANDSONS
V. "WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT"
VI. THE YOUNG SQUIRE
VII. THE SHORTEST CUT
VIII. "CONSCIENCE MAKES COWARDS OF US ALL"
IX. RENEWING ACQUAINTANCE
X. THE INQUEST
XI. AN ARTIST-DETECTIVE
XII. BILL'S FUTURE
XIII. THE YOUNG SQUIRE ASSUMES A NEW CHARACTER
XIV. THE VERY ONE
XV. UNDER SENTENCE
XVI. A RUNAWAY'S STORY
XVII. LOOSE AGAIN
XVIII. TO THE RESCUE
XIX. REVENGE
XX. IN MEMORY OF FARMER BLUFF
[Illustration]
FARMER BLUFF'S DOG BLAZER.
CHAPTER I.
IN SEARCH OF A COMPANION.
"I CAN'T see why I shouldn't use my own common sense," said Dick
Crozier to himself one fine morning, as he sauntered along the lane.
"What else was it given to me for, I should like to know?"
It was a holiday, and Dick had a mind to enjoy himself. Now it happened
that Dick's idea of enjoyment on this particular morning did not quite
agree with his father's. Before leaving home, Mr. Crozier had given him
particular injunctions not to extend his walk beyond the common, and
not to go near the river.
"Another time," said he, "I shall have leisure to teach you how to
manage a boat. Then I shall not be afraid to trust you; but until then
I would rather you kept away."
Dick ventured to argue the point. "Another time," he mightn't have a
holiday. His parents had only recently removed into the neighbourhood;
and he felt pretty certain that his father would put him to school as
soon as ever they got settled in the new place.
"No time like the present," said Dick to himself, as he tried to
shake his father's determination. "To-day is my own; no knowing whose
to-morrow may be."
But when a wise father has really made up his mind, his determination
is not to be shaken.
"You must be content to let me judge what is best for the present,"
said Mr. Crozier. "When you are older, you will see that I was right."
So Dick had to submit—outwardly, at any rate; and as soon as he had
watched his father disappear round the corner towards the railway, away
he walked in the opposite direction, grumbling to himself as he went.
It was not a morning for grumbling. The time of year was the end of
March. The wind, having made the discovery that all its roar and
bluster could not stop the trees and flowers from coming out to meet
the spring, had gone to sleep, and left them to enjoy the sunshine till
the April showers came on. Birds were singing blithely on the boughs,
and even a few humble-bees were to be seen riding through the air with
an important buzz, as if they felt that they had got things their own
way at last; whilst their working relatives flew hither and thither in
quest of honey, with a sharp-toned hum that plainly said—"We must be
busy."
Dick heard them, and stopped grumbling. It was too bad to be in an
ill-humour whilst everything else—from the kingcups in the hedge to the
larks in the sky—was so full of enjoyment. It was not even as if all
the ill-humour in the world could alter what his father had said. So
he just gave one or two cuts at the hedge with the stick in his hand
as a final protest, and began to whistle. A few minutes later he was
climbing along a grassy bank, holding by the wooden palings at the top.
There was a plantation on the other side of these palings, and just
then a clock in a little tower, with a golden weathercock, struck nine.
Dick had heard his father speak of this house as the residence of the
Lord of the Manor, so he stopped to have a peep at it through the trees.
It was a large, white stone building, with balconies to the upper
windows, supported on twisted pillars, so as to form a shady verandah
in front of the lower rooms. A smooth lawn, green as emerald and soft
as velvet, sloped up to the gravelled terrace; and behind the house,
the grass slanted away to an iron hurdle-fence, within which deer were
grazing. Beyond was a little copse, where pines and Scotch firs showed
dark against the pale green mist of leaf-buds on the other trees. A
gate leading into this copse was painted red; and Dick now noticed that
all the gates and railings about the place were of the same unusual
colour—which formed a very pretty contrast with the grass.
As he clung to the fence, making these observations, a French window at
one end of the verandah opened, and three boys trooped out, followed
by a lady, whom Dick took to be their mother. She was young, and
very beautiful—or so Dick thought, as she stepped into the sunlight,
shading her eyes with one hand, to watch them off; so beautiful that,
for the moment, his eyes seem riveted. But only for a moment. The boys
no sooner reached the steps than Dick's eyes left her for them. The
foremost two bounded down, three or four steps at a time, leaving the
third one far behind; and Dick now perceived that the poor fellow went
upon crutches, and that upon one sole he wore an iron stand, which
raised it full two inches from the ground, whilst the other barely
reached so low. In spite of this, he was considerably shorter than his
brothers; and Dick immediately concluded that he was the youngest of
the three.
"Poor fellow!" said he to himself. "I shouldn't care to be like that. I
daresay, though, they're good to him,"' he added, as the others pulled
up short and waited for the cripple, who swung himself carefully down,
step by step.
But Dick little guessed how hard it is to "be good" to a boy who has to
go at a snail's pace, when you yourself have the strength to run and
jump. He didn't even notice how the others continually walked a step
ahead, nor how the cripple laboured to keep up with them. Neither did
he guess how tiring it was to get along so fast. Presently, however,
something attracted the attention of the three boys—an early butterfly
it must have been. The cripple saw it first, and nodded towards it, and
forthwith off the others raced, and left him resting on his crutches
watching them. Then Dick understood a little more clearly how hard it
was for him; for his brothers entirely forgot him in their wild, mad
chase, and he was left alone.
He followed them a minute with his eyes, then turned and looked towards
the terrace; but his mother was not even there to wave her hand. She
had gone in.
It came into Dick's head to wonder whether the poor fellow could see
him there above the fence. He had half a mind to whistle. Dick—with
nothing else to do—could very well spare time for half an hour's chat
to cheer his loneliness. But just then he remembered who this cripple
was, and how presumptuous it might be thought to dream of showing pity
for a son of the great man to whom all the land about belonged. And as
the other boys, panting and puffing, cap in hand, returned just then,
the question was decided once for all. Dick watched them out of sight
behind the avenue of trees that led to the lodge, then he jumped down
from the bank and went his way, turning now and then to see if they
were following.
[Illustration]