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Harper's Young People, September 28, 1880 Part 4

Harper's Young People, September 28, 1880 - BestLightNovel.com

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"It is the very prettiest toy I ever saw," said Mrs. Hunter. "I am sorry I spoiled your secret, Conny, but you don't mind my knowing, do you?"

Conny brightened wonderfully.

"I doubted you might think it was presuming in me, ma'am, to be making little Miss Betty a present. Indeed," he added, with a droll little twinkle of his eyes, "it's trouble enough I've had keeping it. Biddy caught me making a little drawing of the fine chest, and would have it out of me what I was hiding; and once, when I was just using my two eyes at the window, she asked me was I planning to steal the silver. And what with little Miss Betty herself, and Timothy rummaging my bits of things, I was just driven to the tree, ma'am."

"And I pursued you there," laughed Mrs. Hunter, to which Conny only responded with a respectful bow.

"Well, Conny, you shall have a shop. I'll give you the key to the little south attic. That was my boy's playroom, and you may keep your tools there, and lock the door, and n.o.body shall enter without your leave, not even I."

The evident delight that beamed from Conny's eyes almost brought the tears into Mrs. Hunter's, and made her resolve that this young genius should have a chance to grow. She even felt that it would not be honorable in her to reveal his secret to the doctor, but decided that she would wait a few weeks for Betty's birthday.

But before Betty's birthday another secret came to light. Dr. Hunter had twice noticed a strange, rough-looking man hanging about the premises.

He had made a pretense of looking for work, but the doctor distrusted him, and ordered him away.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DOCTOR COMING UPON CONNY AND THE MOONs.h.i.+NER IN HEMLOCK GLEN.]

To his great surprise, a few mornings later, he came suddenly upon the same man in the heart of Hemlock Glen, in earnest conversation with Conny. The man instantly disappeared in the woods, and the doctor reined up his horse, and bade Conny get into the gig. He obeyed silently, crouching, as he often did, at the doctor's feet, and dangling his bare legs over the side of the gig.

"Who was that man, Conny?" asked the doctor, when they were nearly home.

"Jock McCleggan, sir."

"Who is he?"

"Just Jock, sir: a man that lives off and on here-abouts."

"Oh," said the doctor, understanding perfectly well that Jock was a moons.h.i.+ner; "and what business have you with a rascal like that?"

"He knew my feyther, sir, and he's been saying to me these many days that it was agreed between 'em I was to 'bide with him when my feyther died. It's a lee, sir; my feyther never said it."

"He'd better not show his face to me again," said the doctor. "I'll horsewhip him."

Conny suddenly pulled a crumpled bit of paper from his bosom and showed it to the doctor, saying,

"He brought me that just the morning."

The doctor read:

"TO MR. JOCK MCCLEGGIN,--i want yu tu tak mi sun Cony tu du as if he was yure one. i mene wen i am ded."

"SANDY MCCONEL."

"Do you think your father wrote it?" asked the doctor, smiling a little.

Conny looked at him with grave displeasure.

"My feyther was a gentleman, sir, not a blitherin' loon like Jock McCleggan, to stumble at spelling his own name." Then, with a great deal of anxiety, he added,

"Jock says you can be made to give me up; he says it'll be a case of kidnapping."

"Nonsense, Conny: n.o.body can touch you, or me either; but I advise you to steer clear of Jock and all his companions."

But after this conversation the doctor thought best to see the authorities of Dunsmore, and have himself duly appointed as guardian for Conny--a proceeding which gave the boy unbounded satisfaction.

"I'm yer servant now, little Miss Betty," he said, with a low bow. "Yer servant to keep and to hold; that was what the magistrate said. 'Deed and you're the first lady that ever had a McConnell for a servant."

Betty's birthday came and went. The wonderful little toy was presented, and it was hard saying who was most delighted, Betty or the doctor.

"You are a genius, Conny--an artist, a poet," he exclaimed; and he made a journey to Kilbourne, bringing back a set of carving tools for Conny, and a furnished doll's house, with which he bribed the little lady to give her dainty sideboard into safe-keeping until her curious fingers should have outgrown their pa.s.sion for pulling things to pieces.

Day by day the attachment of the family for Conny increased.

"He is a gentleman born," said Mrs. Hunter. "I wish I could know more about his history, but he is as discreet as if he were fifty instead of fifteen."

"I fancy his father was a gentleman with a Scotchman's weakness for whiskey, and that he came up here to keep out of sight. At any rate, the boy is a genius, and I intend he shall have a chance in the world."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "ASLEEP AT HIS POST."--DRAWN BY C. S. REINHART.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]

I am a boy of twelve years. I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much. We live in Croatia, on the Styrian frontier, near to Bath Rohitsch. Our castle was built about the time America was discovered. It is said that a headless huntsman wanders through the corridors at night, but I have never met him.

We see from the windows many high alps of Styria and Carinthia. We go very often to the Szotlee to swim.

I have two canary-birds and two good old dogs.

My sister, who is fourteen years old, would like very much some pressed California flowers. She would send some from here in return.

JAMES KAVANAGH, Post Rohitsch, Styria, Austria.

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA.

Reading in YOUNG PEOPLE about the fight between the _Const.i.tution_ and the _Guerriere_, I thought I would tell you about a relic I have. It is a cross made of the wood of the _Const.i.tution_, which was presented to my father by Miss Bainbridge, a daughter of Commodore Bainbridge, the commander of the _Const.i.tution_ after Captain Hull retired.

I have been a constant reader of the delightful little paper ever since Christmas. I am ten years old, but I have never made but two trips away from my Southern home.

MABEL S.

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Harper's Young People, September 28, 1880 Part 4 summary

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