away; sometimes he listened to the stealthy rustling of a rabbit speeding through the grass; but oftener he smiled as he recalled the happy light he had seen arise on the weary, listening face of his blind old friend. Suddenly the boy looked around him in dismay. He 5 had not noticed that the sun was setting; now he saw that his long shadow on the grass had vanished. It was growing dark. He was still some distance from home, and in a lonely ravine where even the blue flowers had turned to gray. He quickened his footsteps, and with a 10 beating heart recalled many a nursery tale of children belated in dreary forests. Just as he was bracing himself for a run he was startled by the sound of trickling water. Whence did it come? He looked up and saw a small hole in the dike, through 15 which a tiny stream was flowing. Any child in Holland will shudder at the thought of a leak in the dike. The boy understood the danger at a glance. That little hole, if the water were allowed to trickle through, would soon be a large one, and a terrible inundation would be the 20 result. Quick as a flash he saw his duty. Throwing away his flowers, the boy clambered stone by stone until he reached the hole. His chubby little finger was thrust in almost before he knew it. The flowing was stopped! "Ah!" 25 he thought, with a chuckle of boyish delight, "the angry waters must stay back now! Haarlem shall not be drowned while I am here.” This was all very well at first; but the night was falling 5 rapidly. Chill vapors filled the air. Our little hero began to tremble with cold and dread. He shouted loudly; he screamed, "Come here, come here!" but no one came. The cold grew more intense. A numbness, commencing in the tired little finger, crept over his hand and arm; 10 and soon his whole body was filled with pain. He shouted again, "Will no one come? Mother, mother!" Alas! his mother, good, practical soul, had already locked the doors, and had fully resolved to scold him on the morrow for spending the night with the blind man 15 without her permission. He tried to whistle, He tried to whistle, perhaps some straggling boy might heed the signal, — but his teeth chattered so that it was impossible. Then he called on God for help; and the answer came through a holy resolution, "I will stay here till morning." 20 The midnight moon looked down upon that small solitary form, sitting upon a stone, half way up the dike. His head was bent, but he was not asleep; for now and then one restless hand rubbed feebly the outstretched arm that seemed fastened to the wall; and often the pale, 25 tearful face turned quickly at some real or fancied sound. How can we know the sufferings of that long and fearful watch! What falterings of purpose, what childish terrors came over the boy as he thought of the warm little bed at home, of his parents, his brothers and sisters, then looked into the cold, dreary night! If he drew away that tiny finger, the angry waters, grown angrier still, would rush forth and never stop until they had swept over the town. No; he would hold it there till daylight - if he lived. He was not very sure of living. What did this strange buzzing mean? and 10 then the knives that seemed pricking and piercing him from head to foot? He was not certain now that he could draw his finger away, even if he wished to. At daybreak a clergyman, returning from the bedside of a sick parishioner, thought he heard groans as he walked 15 along on the top of the dike. Bending, he saw far down. on the side a child apparently writhing with pain. "In the name of wonder, boy," he exclaimed, "what are you doing there?" "I am keeping the water from running out," was the 20 simple answer of the little hero. "Tell them to come quick." They did come quickly, and Haarlem was saved. 5 10 THE STAY-AT-HOME1 JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY is a young American poet. Her dramas and lyrics are of unusual quality and beauty, both in thought and in form. 1 From "Fortune and Men's Eyes," by Josephine Preston Peabody. By permission of Small, Maynard & Company, Publishers. |