The next day being town day, David "hooked up" Old Hundred and drove
to the house. After the butter crock, egg pails, and kerosene and
gasoline cans had been piled in, Barnabas squeezed into the space
beside David. M'ri came out with a memorandum of supplies for them to
get in town. To David she handed a big bunch of spicy, pink June
roses.
"What shall I do with them?" he asked wonderingly.
"Give them to some one who looks as if he needed flowers," she
replied.
"I will," declared the boy interestedly. "I will watch them all and
see how they look at the roses."
At last M'ri had a kindred spirit in her household. Jud would have
sneered, and Janey would not have understood. To Barnabas all flowers
looked alike.
It had come to be a custom for Barnabas to take David to town with him
at least once a week. The trip was necessarily a slow one, for from
almost every farmhouse he received a petition to "do a little errand
in town." As the good nature and accommodating tendency of Barnabas
were well known, they were accordingly imposed upon. He received
commissions of every character, from the purchase of a corn sheller to
the matching of a blue ribbon. He also stopped to pick up a child or
two en route to school or to give a lift to a weary pedestrian whom he
overtook.
While Barnabas made his usual rounds of the groceries, meatmarket,
drug store, mill, feed store, general store, and a hotel where he was
well known, David was free to go where he liked. Usually he
accompanied Barnabas, but to-day he walked slowly up the principal
business street, watching for "one who needed flowers." Many glances
were bestowed upon the roses, some admiring, some careless, and
then--his heart almost stopped beating at the significance--Judge
Thorne came by. He, too, glanced at the roses. His gaze lingered, and
a look came into his eyes that stimulated David's passion for
romance.
"He's remembering," he thought joyfully.
He didn't hesitate even an instant. He stopped in front of the Judge
and extended the flowers.
"Would you like these roses, Judge Thorne?" he asked courteously.
Then for the first time the Judge's attention was diverted from the
flowers.
"Your face is familiar, my lad, but--"
"My name is David Dunne."
"Yes, to be sure, but it must be four years or more since I last saw
you. How's your mother getting along?"
The boy's face paled.
"She died three weeks ago," he answered.
"Oh, my lad," he exclaimed in shocked tones, "I didn't know! I only
returned last night from a long journey. But with whom are you
living?"
"With Aunt M'ri and Uncle Barnabas."
"Oh!"
The impressive silence following this exclamation was broken by the
Judge.
"Why do you offer me these flowers, David?"
"Aunt M'ri picked them and told me to give them to some one who looked
as if they needed flowers."
The Judge eyed him with the keen scrutiny of the trained lawyer, but
the boy's face was non-committal.
"Come up into my office with me, David," commanded the Judge, turning
quickly into a near-by stairway. David followed up the stairs and into
a suite of well-appointed offices.
A clerk looked up in surprise at the sight of the dignified judge
carrying a bouquet of old-fashioned roses and accompanied by a country
lad.
"Good morning, Mathews. I am engaged, if any one comes."
He preceded David into a room on whose outer door was the deterrent
word, "Private."
While the Judge got a pitcher of water to hold the flowers David
crossed the room. On a table near the window was a rack of books
which he eagerly inspected. To his delight he saw a volume of
Andersen's Fairy Tales. Instantly the book was opened, and he was
devouring a story.
"David," spoke the Judge from the other end of the room, "didn't these
roses grow on a bush by the west porch?"
There was no answer.
The Judge, remarking the boy's absorption, came to see what he was
reading.
"Andersen's Fairy Tales! My favorite book. I didn't know that boys
liked fairy stories."
David looked up quickly.
"I didn't know that lawyers did, either."
"Well, I do, David. They are my most delightful diversion."
"Girls don't like fairy stories," mused David. "Anyway, Janey doesn't.
I have to tell true stories to please her."
"Oh, you are a yarner, are you?"
"Yes," admitted David modestly. "Aunt M'ri thinks I will be a writer
when I grow up, but I think I should like to be a lawyer."
"David," asked the Judge abruptly, "did Miss Brumble tell you to give
me those roses?"
With a wild flashing of eyes the Dunne temper awoke, and the boy's
under jaw shot forward.
"No!" he answered fiercely. "She didn't know that I know--"
He paused in mid-channel of such deep waters.
"That you know what?" demanded the Judge in his cross-examining tone.
David was doubtful of the consequences of his temerity, but he stood
his ground.
"I can't tell you what, because I promised not to. Some one was just
thinking out loud, and I overheard."
There was silence for a moment.
"David, I remember your father telling me, years ago, that he had a
little son with a big imagination which his mother fed by telling
stories every night at bedtime."
"Will you tell me," asked David earnestly, "about my father? What was
it he did? Uncle Barnabas told me something about his trouble last
Saturday."
"How did he come to mention your father to you?"
David reddened.
"Jud twitted me about my mother taking in washing and about my father
being a convict, and I knocked him down. I told him I would kill him.
Uncle Barnabas pulled me off."
"And then?"
"Then he let us fight it out."
"And you licked?"
"Yes, sir," replied the boy, with proud modesty.
"You naturally would, with that under jaw, but it's the animal in us
that makes us want to kill, and the man in us should rise above the
animal. I think I am the person to tell you about your father. He had
every reason to make good, but he was unfortunate in his choice of
associates and he acquired some of their habits. He had a violent
temper, and one night when he was--"
"Drunk," supplied David gravely.
"He became angry with one of his friends and tried to kill him. Your
father was given a comparatively short sentence, which he had almost
served when he died. You must guard against your temper and cultivate
patience and endurance--qualities your mother possessed."
It suddenly and overwhelmingly flashed across David what need his
mother must have had for such traits, and he turned away to force back
his tears. The Judge saw the heaving of the slender, square, young
shoulders, and the gray eyes that were wont to look so coldly upon the
world and its people grew soft and surprisingly moist.
"It's past now, David, and can't be helped, but you are going to aim
to be the kind of man your mother would want you to be. You must learn
to put up with Jud's tyranny because his father and his aunt are your
benefactors. I have been away the greater part of the time since your
father's death, or I should have kept track of you and your mother.
Every time you come to town I want you to come up here and report to
me. Will you?"
"Thank you, sir. And I will bring you some more flowers."