Jean of GreenacresForrester, Izola L. (Izola Louise)
General
Jean of Greenacres
Forrester, Izola L. (Izola Louise)
Artists -- Juvenile fiction; Family -- Juvenile fiction; New England -- Juvenile fiction
“Nantic? Do you suppose—” Jean stopped short. Shad failed to notice her
hesitancy, but went on out doors. Perhaps the boy was wondering if he
could get any trace of his father down at Nantic, she thought. There was
a great deal of the Motherbird’s nature in her eldest robin’s sympathy
and swift, sure understanding of another’s need. She kept an eye out for
Joe all day, but the afternoon passed, the girls came home from school,
and supper was on the table without any sign of their Christmas waif.
And finally, when Shad came in from bedding down the cows and milking,
he said he was pretty sure Joe had cut and run away.
“Do you think it’s because he didn’t want to stay with us while Mother
and Father were away?” asked Helen.
“No, I don’t,” Shad replied. “I think he’s just a little tramp, and he
had to take to the road when the call came to him. He wasn’t satisfied
with a good warm bed and plenty to eat.”
But Jean felt the responsibility of Joe’s loss, and set a lamp burning
all night in the sitting room window as a sign to light his way back
home. It was such a long walk down through the snow to Nantic, and when
he got there, Mr. Briggs would be sure to see him, and make trouble for
him. And perhaps he had wandered out into the hills on a regular tramp
and got lost. Just before she went up to bed Jean called up Cousin Roxy
and asked her advice.
“Well, child, I’d go to bed tonight anyway. He couldn’t have strayed
away far, and there are plenty of lights in the farmhouse windows to
guide him. I saw him sitting on the edge of the woodpile just when your
mother was getting ready to leave, and then he slipped away. I wouldn’t
worry over him. It isn’t a cold night, and the snow fall is light. If he
has run off, there’s lots of barns where he can curl down under the hay
and keep warm. When the Judge drives down to Nantic tomorrow I’ll have
him inquire.”
But neither tomorrow, nor the day after, did any news come to them of
Joe. Mr. Briggs was sure he hadn’t been around the station or the
freight trains. Saturday Kit and Doris drove around through the wood
roads, looking for footprints or some other signs of him, and Jean
telephoned to all the points she could think of, giving a description of
him, and asking them to send the wanderer back if they found him. But
the days passed, and it looked as if Joe had joined the army of the
great departed, as Cousin Roxy said.
Before the first letter reached them from California, telling of the
safe arrival at Benita Ranch of Mr. and Mrs. Robbins, winter decided to
come and stay a while. There came a morning when Shad had hard work
opening the storm door of the kitchen, banked as it was with snow.
Inside, from the upper story windows, the girls looked out, and found
even the stone walls and rail fences covered over with the great mantle
that had fallen steadily and silently through the night. There was
something majestically beautiful in the sweep of the valley and its
encircling hills, seen in this garb.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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