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“It won’t make it any easier for you, holding out this way,” said Mrs. Rose, harshly. “Stop cryin’ and go out and split up some kindlin’-wood.”

Dickey went out, his little convulsed form bent almost double. Willy, staring at him with his great, wondering blue eyes, stood aside to let him pass. Then he also was sent on an errand, while his mother and Miss Elvira had a long consultation in the kitchen.

It was a half-hour before Mrs. Rose went out to the shed where she had sent the Dickey boy to split kindlings. There lay a nice little pile of kindlings, but the boy had disappeared.

“Dickey, Dickey!” she called. But he did not come.

“I guess he’s gone, spoon and all,” she told Miss Elvira, when she went in; but she did not really think he had. When one came to think of it, he was really too small and timid a boy to run away with one silver spoon. It did not seem reasonable. What they did think, as time went on and he did not appear, was that he was hiding to escape a whipping. They searched everywhere. Miss Elvira stood in the shed by the wood-pile, calling in her thin voice, “Come out, Dickey; we won’t whip you if you did take it,” but there was not a stir.

Towards night they grew uneasy. Mr. Fairbanks came, and they talked matters over.

“Maybe he didn’t take the spoon,” said Mr. Fairbanks, uncomfortably. “Anyhow, he’s too young a chap to be set adrift this way. I wish you’d let me talk to him, ‘Mandy.”

“You!” said Mrs. Rose. Then she started up. “I know one thing,” said she; “I’m goin’ to see what’s in that wooden box. I don’t believe but what that spoon’s in there. There’s no knowin’ how long it’s been gone.”

It was quite a while before Mrs. Rose returned with the wooden box. She had to search for it, and found it under the bed. The Dickey boy also had hidden his treasures. She got the hammer and Hiram pried off the lid, which was quite securely nailed. “I’d ought to have had it opened before,” said she. “He hadn’t no business to have a nailed-up box ’round. Don’t joggle it so, Hiram. There’s no knowin’ what’s in it. There may be a pistol.”

Miss Elvira stood farther off. Mr. Fairbanks took the lid entirely off. They all peered into the box. There lay an old clay pipe and a roll of faded calico. Mr. Fairbanks took up the roll and shook it out. “It’s an apron,” said he. “It’s his father’s pipe, and his mother’s apron–I–swan!”

Miss Elvira began to cry. “I hadn’t any idea of anything of that kind,” said Mrs. Rose, huskily. “Willy Rose, what have you got there?”

For Willy, looking quite pale and guilty, was coming in, holding a muddy silver teaspoon. “Where did you get that spoon? Answer me this minute,” cried his mother.

“I–took it out to–dig in my garden with the–other day. I–forgot–“

“Oh, you naughty boy!” cried his mother. Then she, too, began to weep. Mr. Fairbanks started up. “Something’s got to be done,” said he. “The wind’s changed, and the May storm is comin’ on. That boy has got to be found before night.”

But all Mr. Fairbanks’s efforts, and the neighbors’ who came to his assistance, could not find the Dickey boy before night or before the next morning. The long, cold May storm began, the flowering apple-trees bent under it, and the wind drove the rain against the windows. Mrs. Rose and Miss Elvira kept the kitchen fire all night, and hot water and blankets ready. But the day had fairly dawned before they found the Dickey boy, and then only by the merest chance. Mr. Fairbanks, hurrying across his orchard for a short cut, and passing Dickey’s tree, happened to glance up at it, with a sharp pang of memory. He stopped short. There, among the blossoming branches, clung the Dickey boy, like a little drenched, storm-beaten bird. He had flown to his one solitary possession for a refuge. He was almost exhausted; his little hands grasped a branch like steel claws. Mr. Fairbanks took him down and carried him home. “He was up in his tree,” he told his sister, brokenly, when he entered the kitchen. “He’s ‘most gone.”

But the Dickey boy revived after he had lain a while before a fire and been rolled in hot blankets and swallowed some hot drink. He looked with a wondering smile at Mrs. Rose when she bent over him and kissed him just as she kissed Willy. Miss Elvira loosened her gold watch, with its splendid, long gold chain, and put it in his hand. “There, hold it a while,” said she, “and listen to it tick.” Mr. Fairbanks fumbled in his pocket-book and drew out a great silver dollar. “There,” said he, “you can have that to spend when you get well.”

Willy pulled his mother’s skirt. “Mother,” he whispered.

“What say?”

“Can’t I pop some corn for him?”

“By-and-by.” Mrs. Rose smoothed the Dickey boy’s hair; then she bent down and kissed him again. She had fairly made room for him in her stanch, narrow New England heart.