then, and a faint far-off rumble as of thunder told that a
summer-storm was brewing.
“O my Robby! my Robby!” mourned poor Mrs. Jo, wandering up
and down like a pale ghost, while Dan kept beside her like a
faithful fire-fly. “What shall I say to Nan’s father if she comes to
harm? Why did I ever trust my darling so far away? Fritz, do you
hear any thing?” and when a mournful, “No” came back, she wrung
her hands so despairingly that Dan sprung down from Toby’s back,
tied the bridle to the bars, and said, in his decided way,
“They may have gone down the spring I’m going to look.”
He was over the wall and away so fast that she could hardly follow
him; but when she reached the spot, he lowered the lantern and
showed her with joy the marks of little feet in the soft ground
about the spring. She fell down on her knees to examine the tracks,
and then sprung up, saying eagerly,
“Yes; that is the mark of my Robby’s little boots! Come this way,
they must have gone on.”
Such a weary search! But now some inexplicable instinct seemed
to lead the anxious mother, for presently Dan uttered a cry, and
caught up a little shining object lying in the path. It was the cover
of the new tin pail, dropped in the first alarm of being lost. Mrs. Jo
hugged and kissed it as if it were a living thing; and when Dan was
about to utter a glad shout to bring the others to the spot, she
stopped him, saying, as she hurried on, “No, let me find them; I let
Rob go, and I want to give him back to his father all myself.”
A little farther on Nan’s hat appeared, and after passing the place
more than once, they came at last upon the babes in the wood, both
sound asleep. Dan never forgot the little picture on which the light
of his lantern shone that night. He thought Mrs. Jo would cry out,
but she only whispered, “Hush!” as she softly lifted away the
apron, and saw the little ruddy face below. The berry-stained lips
were half-open as the breath came and went, the yellow hair lay
damp on the hot forehead, and both the chubby hands held fast the
little pail still full.
The sight of the childish harvest, treasured through all the troubles
of that night for her, seemed to touch Mrs. Jo to the heart, for
suddenly she gathered up her boy, and began to cry over him, so
tenderly, yet so heartily, that he woke up, and at first seemed
bewildered. Then he remembered, and hugged her close, saying
with a laugh of triumph,
“I knew you’d come! O Marmar! I did want you so!” For a moment
they kissed and clung to one another, quite forgetting all the world;
for no matter how lost and soiled and worn-out wandering sons
may be, mothers can forgive and forget every thing as they fold
them in their fostering arms. Happy the son whose faith in his
mother remains unchanged, and who, through all his wanderings,
has kept some filial token to repay her brave and tender love.
Dan meantime picked Nan out of her bush, and, with a gentleness
none but Teddy ever saw in him before, he soothed her first alarm
at the sudden waking, and wiped away her tears; for Nan also
began to cry for joy, it was so good to see a kind face and feel a
strong arm round her after what seemed to her ages of loneliness
and fear.
“My poor little girl, don’t cry! You are all safe now, and no one
shall say a word of blame to-night,” said Mrs. Jo, taking Nan into
her capacious embrace, and cuddling both children as a hen might
gather her lost chickens under her motherly wings.
“It was my fault; but I am sorry. I tried to take care of him, and I
covered him up and let him sleep, and didn’t touch his berries,
though I was so hungry; and I never will do it again truly, never,