Two Boys and a Fortune Part 25

Then, after resting a moment or two, he would be off again.

"Don't; you will strain yourself," Rex whispered once, protestingly.

But Miles's only answer was, "I must. You can't be out here in the storm."

In this way they progressed until they had nearly reached the house.

Then the rain began to come down in torrents.

Miles made a last desperate effort. Picking Rex up, he ran the intervening distance, although it was twice as far as he usually bore his burden without stopping.

He dashed in at the gate and then, so exhausted was he that he sank down beside Rex when he deposited the latter on the floor of the piazza. He lay there breathing hard, while the rain came down in sheets.

He had not even strength to turn his head when he heard the screen door behind him open and some one come out.

"Who-- who are you and what do you want?"

The question was put by a very sweet girlish voice. And the girl who put it was herself exceedingly pretty.

She had opened the door that led out from the wide, breezy hall, and stepped upon the piazza. She now looked down upon the two boys lying there with undisguised astonishment.

Then she came around so that Miles could see her.

"I beg your pardon, miss," he said, stopping between every three or four words to take breath; "I wanted to get-- him out of the-- rain.

This was the nearest-- house. I hope you don't mind."

"Is he ill?" she asked.

Rex's face was turned partly towards her. It was very pale now, but Florence Raynor was thinking also how very handsome it was and in what contrast to that of the fellow who had answered her.

"Yes, he's very sick, I'm afraid," replied Miles.

"Is he your brother?" went on Florence.

"Oh, no; just-- a friend."

Miles hesitated before he added the last word; then when he had said it a look of pride came into his eyes for an instant.

"I'll call mother," said the girl, and she hurried off to the kitchen, where Mrs. Raynor was making cake.

"Oh, mama," she exclaimed, "the noise I heard was two tramps who had come in on our piazza out of the rain. At least one of them is a tramp, and the other is the nicest looking boy, about the age of our Bert. He's sick and just as pale! But he's dressed very well, and I can't understand how they came to be together. Won't you come out and see them, please?"

Mrs. Raynor sc.r.a.ped the dough from her lingers and followed her daughter to the front porch. Miles had gone over to take Rex's head on his knee and was softly stroking the hair back from the damp forehead.

"Oh, yes; the poor fellow is very ill," Mrs. Raynor exclaimed as soon as she saw him.

She scarcely gave a glance at Miles. She stood for one instant as if thinking deeply. Then with a resolved tone, she turned to Harding.

"Can you help me get him up stairs and in bed?" she asked.

"I guess so, ma'am," Miles replied. "I've got my breath back now. I have to carry him, you know. You're awfully good to take him in this way."

"One must be terribly hard hearted to turn away one in his condition.

Come."

Between them they lifted Rex and bore him into the house and up the broad, easy stairs to a little room at the head of them.

"We must get these wet clothes off at once," said Mrs. Raynor, and Miles stayed there to help her.

They put him to bed, and then the good lady declared that they ought to have a doctor.

"Let me go for one," Miles exclaimed. "I want to do something for him."

Mrs. Raynor, now that Rex no longer absorbed her entire attention, turned her gaze on his companion. Miles colored beneath it.

"Perhaps you don't think I'm fit to go?" he said slowly.

It was Mrs. Raynor's turn to color now. She saw that this fellow, so shabbily dressed, was of very sensitive nature. A happy way of turning the thing off occurred to her.

"You are wet, too," she said. "And it is raining still. I will have the man from the barn go."

She hurried off down stairs to call him. Miles lingered, looking toward the bed, where lay the fellow who had attracted him so strongly.

"I s'pose they don't want me hanging around here any longer," he mused. "They can do everything for him there is to be done. But I don't want to leave him."

Miles Harding's nature was a singular one for a boy brought up as he had been. Thrown upon his own resources when he was hardly more than twelve, he had received some pretty hard knocks from the world. But the hardness of these had not cultivated, a like hardness in him whom they struck.

His temperament had always been a sympathetic one. He had many times received harsh treatment that would never have come to him, by seeking to protect some persecuted cat or dog.

Thus far the recipient of his kindly ministrations had always been some dumb animal. Now that the opportunity had offered to extend these to a human being, Miles was loath to put it aside.

"What a nice fellow he is!" he murmured. "I wonder where he belongs!"

Just then Florence came to the door. The thought instantly flashed into Miles's brain that she had been sent there to see that he did not steal anything.

But he was accustomed to being the object of such suspicions. And yet, somehow, the idea that he should be, hurt him more than usual on the present occasion.

"My mother would like to see you down stairs," said Florence. "I will stay here with him."

Miles went down and found Mrs. Raynor at the foot of the stairway.

"It has just occurred to me," she said, "that you may think it best to send to the home of this young man. Who is he?"

A troubled look came over Miles's face. He feared that what he was about to say would settle the matter once for all about his being allowed to stay with the fellow up stairs. But he had to tell the truth.

"I don't know his name," he answered. "I fell in with him on the road.

But I'd so much like to do something for him. You are sure there is nothing I can do?"

"You have already done a great deal for him," returned Mrs. Raynor, "if, as I understand, you carried him in here out of the rain. And you haven't any idea where he belongs?"