The Voice of the People

ath his tread. As he was unfastening the kitchen door, which led out upon a rough plank platform called the "back porch," Ma

wn stairs. I never could abide tip-toein', nohow. I don't see how 'tis that I can't get no rest 'th

back porch. "I'm goin' to drag the land some 'fore pa gets up," h

ad peevishly and stood holding the c

t goin' in myself and hevin' my tooth out, but I s'pose

ing on the little shelf outside, which supported t

d at last, adding with an effort, "or

"Oh, I don't know as I'll go in to-day," she returned. "I ain't got enough teeth

om, whence the shrill voi

, ma? Why,

in the dim promise of things unfulfilled. A broken scythe lay to one side amid the straggling ailanthus shoots; near the wood-pile there was a wheelbarrow half filled with chips, and at a little distance the axe was poise

ipping weeds on his way to the stable they left a chill moisture upon his bare feet. His eyes were heavy with sleep, and to his cloudy gaze the familiar objects of the barnyard assumed grotesque and distorted shapes. The manure h

startled sheep huddled into a far corner, bleating plaintively, and the brindle cow looked after him with soft, persuasive eyes. When he had attached the clanking chains of the plough

g to General Battle. The brook was always cool and shady, and silvery with minnows darting over the shining pebbles beneath the clear water. As Nicholas looked across the neu

struction rather than the prospect of the peaceful art of cultivation. It was the boy's duty to drag the soil free from grass, after which it would be laid out into rows some three feet apart. When this was done tw

h the same concentration of purpose as that displayed by his four-footed friend. He was strong for his years, lithe as a sapling, and as fearless of eleme

curled up from the quickening heat it showed the splendour of a crimson lining. A single ray of sunshine, pale as a spectral finger, pointed past the woodlands to the brook bene

nes where the sod was newly turned. From the fugitive richness of the soil a warm breath rose suddenly, filling the air with

show for it-whose planting was never on time, and whose implements were never in place. His father had never had this gnawing desire to know things, this passionate hatred of the work which he might not neglect. His father had never tried to beat against the barriers of his ignorance and been driven back, and beat again and wept, and read what he couldn't understand. The teacher at the public school had told him that he was far ahead of his years, and yet they had taken him away when he was doing his level best, and put him to dragging the land, and gatherin

her came to the back door

d many darts from right to left, he succeeded finally in driving them across the road and through the gate on the opposite side, after which he returned to assist

of the wood, where the shallow puddles lingered, myriads of blue and yellow butterflies scattered into variegated clumps of colour at his approach, darting from the moist heaps of last year's leaves to the shining rivulets in the whee

against the arbour where a grapevine grew. The sound of voices floated out to him, mingled with bright, girlish laughter, and, looking through the open window, he saw the light curls of a little girl ag

ously, and then called to some one inside the house. "Ma

. He was a pale, long-faced young man in spectacles, with weak, blue eyes and a short, thin moustache. Hi

The judge has told me about you. So you won't be a farmer, eh? And you won

Dudley Webb, made a face which convulsed little Sally Burwell, who hid her merriment in her curls. There were several other children in the room, but Nicholas did not see them distinctly. Something had got before his eyes and there wa

ldren. As the lessons went on it seemed to Nicholas that he had never known anything in his life; that he should neve

to be insurmountable. Even if he had the books and the tim

air-haired boy with a heavy face, went through the process to

pattern, which held an odd assortment of cracked china and chemist bottles. There was also a square mahogany chest, called the win

, but when the slaves were freed and there were fewer servants it was found to

e little girls if he liked. "I shall try to have the books you need by to-morrow," he said

at first. The boys are older th

e door, when Tom Bassett flung himself before hi

"Let's have a look at you. Are al

. "He lives 'long our road. I saw him hoeing potatoes day be

wkwardly, shifting his bare feet. His face was scarlet, a

e my freckles,"

, mimicking his tone. "We ain't going to steal 'e

utting up her books in one corn

the straps with both hands. Dudley Webb-a handsome, upright boy, well dr

gliness, of his coarse clothes, of his briar-scratched legs, of his freckles, and of the unalterable colour of his hair. He wished with all his heart that he wer

crust of bread through the open window. "He's

ly, turning his honest eyes on Nicholas again. "He

Dudley resolutely, "but I shan't. He's old Amos Burr's

rd Battle impartially. "I saw it. It

spurred by the desire to resent something and finding it easier to fig

and Nicholas had squared up for the first blow, w

tton skirt divided Dudley from his adversary. "You jest let him alone

side with decisive thrusts of her sunburned little hand, and planted her

n' to tote my books home, an' you shan't touch him. I reckon I kn

skirts and a sunbonnet. At the bottom of his heart there existed an instinctive contempt of the sex which Eugenia represented, developed by the fact that it was not force but weakness that had vanquished his victorious opponent. Dudley Webb was a gentleman, and only a bully would strike a girl, even if she we

oid of colour except for the warm mouth, and sparkling with animation which burned steadily at the white heat of intensity-but to Nicholas she was only a plain, dark, little girl, with an unhealthy pallor of complexion. He was grateful, nevertheless, and when his first regret that she was not a boy was over he experienced a thrill of affection. It was the first time that any one had deliberately taken his part

" he said with a mild assumption of masculi

him gravely and

en't common I didn't mean that you really weren't, you know; becaus

d and stared at her, his face flushing

oks from him into the sand at her feet, and with a choking sob s

e highway, and around her the open fields rolled off into the green of far-off forests. Th

utely on her way, a cloud of yellow butterflies fluttering l