"Who was the man I saw talking to you in the hayfield?" asked Aunt
Kate, as Uncle Richard came to dinner.
"Bob Marks," said Uncle Richard briefly. "I've sold Laddie to him."
Ernest Hughes, the twelve-year-old orphan boy whom Uncle "boarded and
kept" for the chores he did, suddenly stopped eating.
"Oh, Mr. Lawson, you're not going to sell Laddie?" he cried chokily.
Uncle Richard stared at him. Never before, in the five years that
Ernest had lived with him, had the quiet little fellow spoken without
being spoken to, much less ventured to protest against anything Uncle
Richard might do.
"Certainly I am," answered the latter curtly. "Bob offered me twenty
dollars for the dog, and he's coming after him next week."
"Oh, Mr. Lawson," said Ernest, rising to his feet, his small, freckled
face crimson. "Oh, don't sell Laddie! _Please_, Mr. Lawson, don't sell
him!"
"What nonsense is this?" said Uncle Richard sharply. He was a man who
brooked no opposition from anybody, and who never changed his mind
when it was once made up.
"Don't sell Laddie!" pleaded Ernest miserably. "He is the only friend
I've got. I can't live if Laddie goes away. Oh, don't sell him, Mr.
Lawson!"
"Sit down and hold your tongue," said Uncle Richard sternly. "The dog
is mine, and I shall do with him as I think fit. He is sold, and that
is all there is about it. Go on with your dinner."
But Ernest for the first time did not obey. He snatched his cap from
the back of his chair, dashed it down over his eyes, and ran from the
kitchen with a sob choking his breath. Uncle Richard looked angry, but
Aunt Kate hastened to soothe him.
"Don't be vexed with the boy, Richard," she said. "You know he is very
fond of Laddie. He's had to do with him ever since he was a pup, and
no doubt he feels badly at the thought of losing him. I'm rather sorry
myself that you have sold the dog."
"Well, he _is_ sold and there's an end of it. I don't say but that the
dog is a good dog. But he is of no use to us, and twenty dollars will
come in mighty handy just now. He's worth that to Bob, for he is a
good watch dog, so we've both made a fair bargain."
Nothing more was said about Ernest or Laddie. I had taken no part in
the discussion, for I felt no great interest in the matter. Laddie was
a nice dog; Ernest was a quiet, inoffensive little fellow, five years
younger than myself; that was all I thought about either of them.
I was spending my vacation at Uncle Richard's farm on the Nova Scotian
Bay of Fundy shore. I was a great favourite with Uncle Richard, partly
because he had been much attached to my mother, his only sister,
partly because of my strong resemblance to his only son, who had died
several years before. Uncle Richard was a stern, undemonstrative man,
but I knew that he entertained a deep and real affection for me, and I
always enjoyed my vacation sojourns at his place.
"What are you going to do this afternoon, Ned?" he asked, after the
disturbance caused by Ernest's outbreak had quieted down.
"I think I'll row out to Island Rock," I replied. "I want to take some
views of the shore from it."
Uncle Richard nodded. He was much interested in my new camera.
"If you're on it about four o'clock, you'll get a fine view of the
'Hole in the Wall' when the sun begins to shine on the water through
it," he said. "I've often thought it would make a handsome picture."
"After I've finished taking the pictures, I think I'll go down shore
to Uncle Adam's and stay all night," I said. "Jim's dark room is more
convenient than mine, and he has some pictures he is going to develop
tonight, too."
I started for the shore about two o'clock. Ernest was sitting on the
woodpile as I passed through the yard, with his arms about Laddie's
neck and his face buried in Laddie's curly hair. Laddie was a handsome
and intelligent black-and-white Newfoundland, with a magnificent coat.
He and Ernest were great chums. I felt sorry for the boy who was to
lose his pet.
"Don't take it so hard, Ern," I said, trying to comfort him. "Uncle
will likely get another pup."
"I don't want any other pup!" Ernest blurted out. "Oh, Ned, won't you
try and coax your uncle not to sell him? Perhaps he'd listen to you."