HOPE DEFERRED

Day after day Herbert and Abner went to the post office and inquired for letters, but alas! none came.  Poor Herbert was in despair.  He thought his father would have instantly sent the money, or come out himself to take him home.  Was it possible his father had forgotten him, or was indifferent to his absence?  He could not believe it, but what was he to think?

“I reckon your father didn’t get the letter,” suggested Abner.

Herbert hailed this suggestion with relief.

“Or, maybe, marm has told the postmaster to give her any letters that come.”

This suggestion, too, seemed not improbable.

“What can we do?” asked Herbert, helplessly.  “I reckon we’d better run away.”

“Without money?”

“We’ll hire out to somebody for a week or two and write from where we are.”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t do much work,” said the little boy.

“Then I’ll work for both,” said Abner, stoutly.  “I’ve got tired of stayin’ at home, anyway.”

“I’ll do whatever you say,” said Herbert, feeling that any change would be for the better.

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready,” said Abner.  “We’ll start some time when marm’s gone to the village.”

There was another reason for Herbert’s being dissatisfied with his new home.  A month had passed—­the full time for which Willis Ford had paid the boy’s board—­and there were no indications that any more was to be paid.  During the the first week the fare had been tolerable, though Mrs. Barton was not a skillful cook; but now there was no money left, and the family fell back upon what their limited resources could supply.  Mush and milk now constituted their principal diet.  It is well enough occasionally, but, when furnished at every meal, both Herbert and Abner became tired of it.

“Haven’t you got anything else for dinner, marm?” asked Abner, discontentedly.

“No, I haven’t,” answered the mother, snappishly.

“You used to have sassiges and bacon.”

“That was when I had money to buy ’em.”

“Where’s all that money gone the man left with him?” indicating Herbert.

“It’s spent, and I wish Willis Ford would send along some more mighty quick.  He needn’t expect me to take a free boarder.”

She looked severely at Herbert, as if he were in fault.  Certainly the poor boy had no desire to live on the liberality of Mrs. Barton.

“Maybe he’s sent you some money in a letter,” suggested Abner.

“Well, I never thought of that.  It’s a bright idee, ef it did come from you, Abner Barton.  Jest go up to the postoffice after dinner, and ask if there’s any letter for me.  Ef there is, mind you, don’t open it.”

“All right, marm.”

“Come along, bub,” said Abner.

This was the name he gave to Herbert, whom he liked in his own rough way.

“I don’t think,” said Herbert, as they walked along, “that your mother can have got any letter written by my father.  If she had, she would not be out of money.”