FullReads

But it was Miss Salome who had won Chester’s whole heart. He had never loved anybody in his hard little life before. He loved her with an almost dog-like devotion. He forgot that he was working to earn money–and make his fortune. He worked to please Miss Salome. She was good and kind and gentle to him, and his starved heart thawed and expanded in the sunshine of her atmosphere. She went to the little porch room every night to kiss him good night. Chester would have been bitterly disappointed if she had failed to go.

She was greatly shocked to find out that he had never said his prayers before going to bed. She insisted on teaching him the simple little one she had used herself when a child. When Chester found that it would please her, he said it every night. There was nothing he would not have done for Miss Salome.

She talked a good deal to him about Johnny and she gave him the jack-knife that Johnny had owned.

“It belonged to a good, manly little boy once,” she said, “and now I hope it belongs to another such.”

“I ain’t very good,” said Chester repentantly, “but I’ll try to be, Miss Salome–honest, I will.”

One day he heard Miss Salome speaking of someone who had run away from home. “A wicked, ungrateful boy,” she called him. Chester blushed until his freckles were drowned out in a sea of red, and Clemantiny saw it, of course. When did anything ever escape those merciless black eyes of Clemantiny’s?

“Do you think it’s always wrong for a fellow to run away, Miss Salome?” he faltered.

“It can’t ever be right,” said Miss Salome decidedly.

“But if he wasn’t treated well–and was jawed at–and not let go to school?” pleaded Chester.

Clemantiny gave Miss Salome a look as of one who would say, You’re bat-blind if you can’t read between the lines of that; but Miss Salome was placidly unconscious. She was not really thinking of the subject at all, and did not guess that Chester meant anything more than generalities.

“Not even then,” she said firmly. “Nothing can justify a boy for running away–especially as Jarvis Colemen did–never even left a word behind him to say where he’d gone. His aunt thought he’d fallen into the river.”

“Don’t suppose she would have grieved much if he had,” said Clemantiny sarcastically, all the while watching Chester, until he felt as if she were boring into his very soul and reading all his past life.

When the harvest season drew to a close, dismay crept into the soul of our hero. Where would he go now? He hated to think of leaving Mount Hope Farm and Miss Salome. He would have been content to stay there and work as hard as he had ever worked at Upton, merely for the roof over his head and the food he ate. The making of a fortune seemed a small thing compared to the privilege of being near Miss Salome.

“But I suppose I must just up and go,” he muttered dolefully.

One day Miss Salome had a conference with Clemantiny. At the end of it the latter said, “Do as you please,” in the tone she might have used to a spoiled child. “But if you’d take my advice–which you won’t and never do–you’d write to somebody in Upton and make inquiries about him first. What he says is all very well and he sticks to it marvellous, and there’s no tripping him up. But there’s something behind, Salome Whitney–mark my words, there’s something behind.”

“He looks so like Johnny,” said Miss Salome wistfully.

“And I suppose you think that covers a multitude of sins,” said Clemantiny contemptuously.

* * * * *

On the day when the last load of rustling golden sheaves was carried into the big barn and stowed away in the dusty loft, Miss Salome called Chester into the kitchen. Chester’s heart sank as he obeyed the summons.