A CHILDISH CONSULTATION.
The life which these children and their companion led at Bays Hollow was
quiet and peaceful, especially to those strange beings, after the
privations and bitter troubles through which they had passed. The
mournful look that had seemed natural to Paul, went out from his eyes,
which grew soft or bright with changing feelings, but the haggard
anguish which had made their glance so painfully sad, never came back to
them. As for Jube, he was like a Newfoundland dog--full of courage,
strength, and cheerfulness.
The minister and Mrs. Prior were a great deal happier for having these
children in the house. Indeed Mrs. P. put on the most awkward little
maternal airs, like a great girl beginning to play with dolls late in
life, for which the minister admired her prodigiously. Once, when they
were quite alone, he observed in a dreamy way, "That it was a sad pity
such talent for government should be exhausted on other people's
children," at which Mrs. Prior went off in a spasm of blushes, and the
minister crept out of the room, quite ashamed of himself, feeling that
he had approached the verge of total depravity in that unhappy speech.
One day when Paul and Jube were busy among the strawberry vines in the
meadow, searching, with great anxiety, for the first tinge of red upon
the slowly ripening fruit, for the boy was eager to secure a handful for
little Rose, that young lady was seen dashing through the back door of
the house, and running full speed toward the strawberry hollow. Paul
started up and shook his head to indicate that there was no hope of
strawberries yet, while Jube, who was on all fours among the vines,
lifted his broad face like an expectant dog, and laughed till all his
teeth shone again, with the joyousness of her approach.
On she came, rushing through the fresh wind, her curls floating out
behind her, and her face full of wild excitement.
"Something is the matter," said Paul, stepping forward to meet her. "Who
has frightened Rose, I should like to know?"
"Paul, Paul, come here, under the apple tree," were the first breathless
words of our little girl. "I want to tell you something."
Paul took her hand with his usual gentle kindness, and the two ran to
the apple tree's shade.
"This is it," said Rose, panting for breath, while her eyes sparkled
like diamonds. "He has come--that man who loves my mother so much. He's
a going to marry her right off, as sure as you live. Marry her--my own,
own mother--who never will love me again after that; never, never!"
Rose burst into a passion of tears, and flinging herself against the
trunk of the tree wept bitterly.
Paul was greatly troubled; not that he understood the matter, but
because it grieved him to see Rose cry so bitterly.
"Oh," she exclaimed, dropping two dimpled hands from her eyes, and
stamping her tiny feet on the grass, "oh dear, how I wish that Captain
Thrasher was dead."
Paul started, and turned very pale. "Jube, Jube," he called out, with a
cry of pain.
Jube started up from his knees, and came running toward the children.
"What is it--what is it, little masser?"
"He is here, that bad man--he wants to marry Rose's mother," cried the
lad, flinging his arms around the little girl, and looking the brave,
bright boy he really was.
"Who, who, little masser?" cried Jube, looking around for some enemy.
"Captain Thrasher." Paul uttered the name in a whisper.
Jube clenched his hand, looking fiercely toward the house.
"He there, Masser Paul?"
"Yes," said the angry child, shaking her little rosebud of a fist at the
house. "He's there with my own mother, this minute. He'll carry her off
in spite of us all."
"What can we do?" said Paul, anxiously looking at Jube.
"Couldn't you just kill him, Jube, as you did the garter snake," cried
Rose, shaking the drops from her eager eyes.
Jube hesitated; the fellow had a vague idea that some one might object
to this mode of settling the difficulty. Paul drew back with affright.
He had received a cruel knowledge of the laws regarding human life, and
the remedy pointed out by little Rose made him shrink.
"We must not ask Jube to be wicked," he said, gently.
Rose dashed his hand away. "Isn't it wicked for that man to come here
after my own mother?" she cried, indignantly.
"Yes, Rose; but it would be more wicked for Jube to harm him. The law,
Rose, the law."
"Well, I don't care. What is the law? If it's a man, Jube can whip him,
can't you, Jube?" cried the little damsel, going for belligerent rights
with all her puny strength.
"But it isn't a man, Rose," said Paul, solemnly. "It's something that no
one ever sees. It comes like death, and when a person does wrong, even
if it was a beautiful lady, strikes her down till her heart breaks. It
shuts people up in prison."
"Oh don't, don't," cried Rose.
"It hangs 'em by the neck between two beams."
"Oh, how you frighten me, Paul."
"It hunts after a person who has done wrong, day and night, and catches
him at last. Oh, Rose, if you only knew how cruel the law can be."
Rose hushed her sobs and drew close to Paul, quite awe-stricken. "Never
mind, Jube needn't do it. I'll ask the minister to pray God to help us,
that will be the best thing."
"Yes," said Paul, brightening, "and I'll--no matter about that, people
shouldn't talk about these things, but 'our Lady' has done great things
for people in distress."
They sat down in a group under the apple tree, consulting eagerly
together. After awhile the parlor window opened, and a clear, ringing
voice called out:
"Rose! Rose Mason, I say."
"I must go," said the little girl, with a look of deplorable
helplessness. "She'll want me to kiss him, but I wont!"
Paul lifted her little hand to his lips, and kissed it with touching
grace.
"Don't be afraid, Rose. Jube wont let anybody hurt you."
"I--I aint afraid," cried Rose, tossing her golden curls. "He daren't
kiss me, I know that."
She went away slowly, looking over her shoulder from time to time during
her progress toward the house. The apple tree was not within sight of
the parlor windows, thus both Jube and Paul remained unseen by the two
people who occupied that room; an unfortunate circumstance, perhaps, for
their recognition might have changed the whole course of events. As it
was, both Paul and Jube were anxious to keep out of sight. When they
left the meadow, Paul went to his room, and in the simplicity of his
faith, put up many an orison to the Virgin, in behalf of this pretty
friend. What else could the child do?