Every one was very kind to Ben when his loss was known.  The Squire wrote to Mr. Smithers the boy had found friends and would stay where he was.  Mrs. Moss consoled him in her way, and the little girls did their very best to “be good to poor Benny.”  But Miss Celia was his truest comforter and completely won his heart, not only by the friendly words she said and the pleasant things she did, but by the unspoken sympathy which showed itself, just at the right minute, in a look, a touch, a smile, more helpful than any amount of condolence.  She called him “my man,” and Ben tried to be one, bearing his trouble so bravely that she respected him, although he was only a little boy, because it promised well for the future.

Then she was so happy herself, it was impossible for those about her to be sad, and Ben soon grew cheerful again in spite of the very tender memory of his father laid quietly away in the safest corner of his heart.  He would have been a very unboyish boy if he had not been happy, for the new place was such a pleasant one, he soon felt as if for the first time he really had a home.

No more grubbing now, but daily tasks which never grew tiresome, they were so varied and so light.  No more cross Pats to try his temper, but the sweetest mistress that ever was, since praise was oftener on her lips than blame, and gratitude made willing service a delight.

At first it seemed as if there was going to be trouble between the two boys, for Thorny was naturally masterful, and illness had left him weak and nervous, so he was often both domineering and petulant.  Ben had been taught instant obedience to those older than himself, and if Thorny had been a man Ben would have made no complaint; but it was hard to be “ordered round” by a boy, and an unreasonable one into the bargain.

A word from Miss Celia blew away the threatening cloud, however, and for her sake her brother promised to try to be patient; for her sake Ben declared he never would “get mad” if Mr. Thorny did fidget, and both very soon forgot all about master and man and lived together like two friendly lads, taking each other’s ups and downs good-naturedly, and finding mutual pleasure and profit in the new companionship.

The only point on which they never could agree was legs, and many a hearty laugh did they give Miss Celia by their warm and serious discussion of this vexed question.  Thorny insisted that Ben was bow-legged; Ben resented the epithet, and declared that the legs of all good horsemen must have a slight curve, and any one who knew anything about the matter would acknowledge both its necessity and its beauty.  Then Thorny would observe that it might be all very well in the saddle, but it made a man waddle like a duck when afoot; whereat Ben would retort that for his part he would rather waddle like a duck than tumble about like a horse with the staggers.  He had his opponent there, for poor Thorny did look very like