Chapter XXVII. The Ride to Barton's - Page 2

"She's got a temper of her own, and she can talk a man deaf, dumb, and blind. She gives Barton a piece of her mind whenever he comes home full."

"She ought to have that satisfaction. From what you tell me, I don't feel very proud of my unknown relatives."

"Goin' to stay there any length of time?"

"I don't know my own plans yet," answered Willis Ford, with a glance at the boy. He foresaw a scene when he announced his purpose to leave Herbert in this unpromising place, but he did not wish to anticipate it.

"I suppose Barton is a farmer?" he suggested.

"He pretends to be, but his farm doesn't pay much."

"What supports them?"

"His wife takes in work from the tailors in the the village. Then they've got a cow, and she makes butter. As for Joel, he brings in precious little money. He might pick up a few dollars hirin' out by the day, if he wasn't so lazy. I had a job for him myself one day, but he knocked off at noon--said he was tuckered out, and wanted me to pay him for that half day. I knew well enough where the money would go, so I told him I wouldn't pay him unless he worked until sunset."

"Did he do it?"

"Yes, he did; but he grumbled a good deal. When he got his pay he went over to Thompson's saloon, and he didn't leave it until all the money was spent. When his wife heard of it she was mad, and I expect she gave Joel a taste of the broom handle."

"I wouldn't blame her much."

"Nor I. But here we are. Yonder's Barton's house. Will you get out?"

"Yes."

Abner, who was sitting on a stump, no sooner saw the team stop than he ran into the house, in some excitement, to tell the news.

"Marm," he said, "there's a team stopped, and there's a man and boy gettin' out; 'spect they're coming here."

"Lord's sake! Who be they?"

"Dunno."

"Well, go out and tell 'em I'll see' em in a minute."

Abner met them in front of the house.

"Are you Joel Barton's son?" asked Ford.

"That's what the old man says," returned Abner, with a grin.

"Is your mother at home?"

"Marm will be right out. She's slickin' up. Who be you?"

"You'll know in good time, my boy." "Who's he? Is he your son?"

"No," answered Herbert promptly.

Willis Ford turned upon his young ward with a frown. He understood the boy's tone.

"It will be time to speak when you are spoken to," he said sharply.

"Here's marm'" said Abner, as his mother's tall figure appeared in the