Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville
The Major gave a low whistle and threw away his cigar. The night was so
dark that he had little difficulty in following the aged pair closely
enough to keep their shadowy forms in sight, without the risk of being
discovered. They passed around the barn and along a path that led
through the raspberry bushes back of the yard. There were several acres
of these bushes, and just now they were full-leaved and almost shoulder
high. The path wound this way and that, and branched in several
directions. Twice the Major thought he had lost his quarry, but was
guided aright by their soft footfalls. The ground dipped here and there,
and as they entered one of the hollows Major Doyle was startled to
observe the twinkle of a dim light ahead. A minute later he saw the
outlines of a little frame building, and within this Old Hucks and Nora
presently disappeared.
CHAPTER XV.
THE MAN IN HIDING.
Cautiously the Major approached the cabin, which seemed to have been
built as a place for the berry pickers to assemble and pack their fruit.
It was constructed of rough boards and had a little window in the side
nearest the dwelling house and a door on the opposite side.
Creeping near to the window the Major obtained a clear view of the
interior. Upon a dilapidated wicker settee, which had one end propped
with a box, partially reclined the form of a man whose right arm was in
splints and supported by a sling, while his head was covered with
plasters and bandages. The man's back was toward the window, but from
his slender form and its graceful poise the Major imagined him young.
Old Nora held the left hand of this mysterious person in a warm clasp,
bending now and then to press a kiss upon it, while Hucks busied himself
opening the parcel he had brought and arranging various articles of food
on a rickety stand at the head of the couch. The old man's smile was
more benevolent and cheery than ever, and his actions denoted that
strange, suppressed eagerness the Major had marked when he had taken
the money.
- Page:
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- 112
- 113
- 114
- 115
- 116
- 117
- 118
- 119
- 120
- 121
- 122
- 123
- 124
- 125
- 126
- 127
- 128
- 129
- 130
- 131
- 132
- 133
- 134
- 135
There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
© 2013-2019 FairyTales
Almost all texts on this website are from the Public Domain.