CHAPTER XI SUNDAY

Mrs.MosswokeBenwithakissnextmorning,forherheartyearnedoverthefatherlessladasifhehadbeenherown,andshehadnootherwayofshowinghersympathy.Benhadforgottenhistroublesinsleepbutthememoryofthemreturnedassoonasheopenedhiseyes,heavywiththetearstheyhadshed.Hedidnotcryanymore,butfeltstrangeandlonelytillhecalledSanchoandtoldhimallaboutit,forhewasshyevenwithkindMrs.Moss,andgladwhenshewentaway. Sanchoseemedtounderstandthathismasterwasintrouble,andlistenedtothesadlittlestorywithgurglesofinterest,whinesofcondolence,andintelligentbarkswhenevertheword"daddy"wasuttered.Hewasonlyabrute,buthisdumbaffectioncomfortedtheboymorethananywordsforSanchhadknownandloved"father"almostaslongandwellashisson,andthatseemedtodrawthemcloselytogether,nowtheywereleftalone. "Wemustputonmourning,oldfeller.It'stheproperthing,andthere'snobodyelsetodoitnow,"saidBen,ashedressed,rememberinghowallthecompanyworebitsofcrapesomewhereaboutthemat'Melia'sfuneral. Itwasarealsacrificeofboyishvanitytotaketheblueribbonwithitssilveranchorsoffthenewhat,andreplaceitwiththedingyblackbandfromtheoldonebutBenwasquitesincereindoingthis,thoughdoubtlesshistheatricallifemadehimthinkoftheeffectmorethanotherladswouldhavedone.HecouldfindnothinginhislimitedwardrobewithwhichtodecorateSanchexceptablackcambricpocket.Itwasalreadyhalftornoutofhistrouserswiththeweightofnails,pebbles,andotherlighttriflessohegaveitafinalwrenchandtieditintothedog'scollar,sayingtohimself,asheputawayhistreasures,withasigh,— "OnepocketisenoughIsha'n'twantanythingbutahan'k'chi'fto-day." Fortunately,thatarticleofdresswasclean,forhehadbutoneand,withthissomewhatostentatiouslydroopingfromthesolitarypocket,theserioushatuponhishead,thenewshoescreakingmournfully,andSanchgravelyfollowing,muchimpressedwithhisblackbow,thechiefmournerdescended,feelingthathehaddonehisbesttoshowrespecttothedead. Mrs.Moss'seyesfilledasshesawtherustyband,andguessedwhyitwastherebutshefounditdifficulttorepressasmilewhenshebeheldthecambricsymbolofwoeonthedog'sneck.Notawordwassaidtodisturbtheboy'scomfortinthesepoorattempts,howeverandhewentouttodohischores,consciousthathewasanobjectofinteresttohisfriends,especiallysotoBabandBetty,who,havingbeentoldofBen'sloss,nowregardedhimwithasortofpityingaweverygratefultohisfeelings. "Iwantyoutodrivemetochurchby-and-by.Itisgoingtobeprettywarm,andThornyishardlystrongenoughtoventureyet,"saidMissCelia,whenBenranoverafterbreakfasttoseeifshehadanythingforhimtodoforheconsideredherhismistressnow,thoughhewasnottotakepossessionofhisnewquarterstillthemorrow. "Yes,'m,I'dliketo,ifIlookwellenough,"answeredBen,pleasedtobeasked,butimpressedwiththeideathatpeoplehadtobeveryfineonsuchoccasions. "YouwilldoverywellwhenIhavegivenyouatouch.Goddoesn'tmindourclothes,Ben,andthepoorareaswelcomeastherichtohim.Youhavenotbeenmuch,haveyou?"askedMissCelia,anxioustohelptheboy,andnotquitesurehowtobegin. "No,'mourfolksdidn'thardlyevergo,andfatherwassotiredheusedtorestSundays,orgooffinthewoodswithme." AlittlequavercameintoBen'svoiceashespoke,andasuddenmotionmadehishat-brimhidehiseyes,forthethoughtofthehappytimesthatwouldnevercomeanymorewasalmosttoomuchforhim. "Thatwasapleasantwaytorest.Ioftendoso,andwewillgotothegrovethisafternoonandtryit.ButIhavetogotochurchinthemorningitseemstostartmerightfortheweekandifonehasasorrowthatistheplacewhereonecanalwaysfindcomfort.Willyoucomeandtryit,Ben,dear?" "I'ddoanythingtopleaseyou,"mutteredBen,withoutlookingupfor,thoughhefeltherkindnesstothebottomofhisheart,hedidwishthatnoonewouldtalkaboutfatherforalittlewhileitwassohardtokeepfromcrying,andhehatedtobeababy. MissCeliaseemedtounderstand,forthenextthingshesaid,inaverycheerfultone,was,"Seewhataprettysightthatis.WhenIwasalittlegirlIusedtothinkspidersspunclothforthefairies,andspreaditonthegrasstobleach." Benstoppeddiggingaholeinthegroundwithhistoe,andlookedup,toseealovelycobweblikeawheel,circlewithincircle,spunacrossacornerofthearchoverthegate.Tinydropsglitteredoneverythreadasthelightshonethroughthegossamercurtain,andasoftbreathofairmadeittrembleasifabouttoblowitaway. "It'smightypretty,butitwillflyoff,justastheothersdid.Ineversawsuchachapasthatspideris.Hekeepsonspinninganewoneeveryday,fortheyalwaysgetbroke,andhedon'tseemtobediscouragedamite,"saidBen,gladtochangethesubject,assheknewhewouldbe. "Thatisthewayhegetshisliving,hespinshiswebandwaitsforhisdailybread,—orfly,ratheranditalwayscomes,Ifancy.By-and-byyouwillseethatprettytrapfullofinsects,andMr.Spiderwilllayuphisprovisionsfortheday.Afterthathedoesn'tcarehowsoonhisfinewebblowsaway." "Iknowhimhe'sahandsomefeller,allblackandyellow,andlivesupinthatcornerwheretheshinysortofholeis.HedivesdowntheminuteItouchthegate,butcomesupafterI'vekeptstillaminute.Iliketowatchhim.Buthemusthateme,forItookawayanicegreenflyandsomelittlemillersoneday." "DidyoueverhearthestoryofBruceandhisspider?Mostchildrenknowandlikethat,"saidMissCelia,seeingthatheseemedinterested. "No,'mIdon'tknoweversomanythingsmostchildrendo,"answeredBen,soberlyfor,sincehehadbeenamonghisnewfriends,hehadoftenfelthisowndeficiencies. "Ah,butyoualsoknowmanythingswhichtheydonot.Halftheboysintownwouldgiveagreatdealtobeabletorideandrunandleapasyoudoandeventheoldestarenotascapableoftakingcareofthemselvesasyouare.Youractivelifehasdonemuchinsomewaystomakeamanofyoubutinotherwaysitwasbad,asIthinkyoubegintosee.Now,supposeyoutrytoforgettheharmfulpart,andrememberonlythegood,whilelearningtobemorelikeourboys