She gave him a scolding for running away, but took him in, gave him some
supper, and sent him to bed. The farmer was very angry, would not see
him, nor let Nancy speak to him, and sent him back next morning.
Four evenings afterwards there was a tap at the wagoner's door as he and
his wife sat at supper; and when they opened it there stood Roger again.
They were very angry this time, and sent him to bed without any supper.
The farmer reproved him severely when he sent him back, and told him
not to dare to run away again.
A week afterwards, when the wagoner came home from work, he saw Roger
sitting under a tree near his door; and this time they would not take
him in again at the school.
Nobody knew what to do with him now. His new clothes were sent back to
the Orphan School, and his shabby old ones put on. Nancy was in great
distress, and Roger was shut up in the garret till the farmer made up
his mind about him.
Some kind ladies, relations of the farmer's, who were rich, happened to
be at the farm then, and they said they would take the poor boy home.
They lived in a town sixty miles off; so it was impossible, they said,
he could run back from there. They took him away, therefore, and were
very kind to him, clothed him well, taught him to read and write, gave
him all his meals beside them, made him walk before them when they
walked out, and never let him be out of their sight, except when they
went out visiting, and then he was locked into a room with some
play-things, and the servants told to take care of him. He seemed
contented, and learned fast, but he never forgot his happy days. If he
was told about some beautiful place, he asked if it was like the farm.
If he read of some great man, he asked if he was as great as Farmer
Truman.
Six months of this life had passed, when one day, Roger was missing and
could be found nowhere. The kind ladies wrote to the farm, but many
weeks passed and no one saw or heard of him.
At last, one cold bitter night in winter, a little low tap was heard at
the wagoner's door.
"See if that be not Roger!" said his wife.
And Roger it was. Tattered, thin, and wearied, there he stood. He had
begged his way and come back all the sixty miles on foot. It was
impossible for the good woman to refuse to take him in.
The farmer declared the boy must be an idiot, when she went to him in
the morning with her story; but she said, it was all along of his love
of a country life.
"He has no turn, like, for scholarship," said she. "Could not you please
to find him some work to do on the farm, and give him a trial?" Nancy
looked imploringly through her tears, and Mrs. Truman said a kind word
for him; so the farmer consented, and Roger was made cow-boy that very
day.
Never was such a change seen as came over him. He brightened up. He
shewed himself the most active, clever boy that had ever been there. He
soon learned to do all manner of things, and was always ready to help at
everything. He could harness the horses for ploughing or carting, clean
them, feed them, or bring them back. He could feed the pigs and calves,
drive the sheep to the fold, and at shearing time, hay-making, and
harvesting, was of the greatest use. In short, as the men said, he could
lend a hand at anything; and all this was done without neglecting his
cows. Before he was sixteen he was made a carter, and drove a team of
horses, with a great whip on his shoulder, and a white smock frock on;
and no king was ever prouder of his sceptre and his robes. The farmer
said he never had a better lad in his service, and he hoped he would
never leave it, but grow up to be one of his regular labourers, and have
a good cottage, and get a good wife of his own.