Timothy's Quest: A Story for Anybody, Young or Old, Who Cares to Read It — John Shaqi
Timothy's Quest: A Story for Anybody, Young or Old, Who Cares to Read ItWiggin, Kate Douglas Smith
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Timothy's Quest: A Story for Anybody, Young or Old, Who Cares to Read It
Wiggin, Kate Douglas Smith
Orphans -- Juvenile fiction
Two hours later, Miss Vilda looked from the kitchen window and saw Jabez
Slocum coming across the road from the garden. Timothy trudged beside
him, carrying the basket of greens in one hand, and the other locked in
Jabe's huge paw; his eyes upturned and shining with pleasure, his lips
moving as if he were chattering like a magpie. Lady Gay was just where
you might have expected to find her, mounted on the towering height of
Jabe's shoulder, one tiny hand grasping his weather-beaten straw hat,
while with the other she whisked her willing steed with an alder switch
which had evidently been cut for that purpose by the victim himself.
"That's the way he's sizin' of 'em up," said Samantha, leaning over
Vilda's shoulder with a smile. "I'll bet they've sized him up enough
sight better 'n he has them!"
Jabe left the children outside, and came in with the basket. Putting his
hat in the wood-box and hitching up his trousers impressively, he sat
down on the settle.
"Them ain't no children to be wanderin' about the earth afoot 'n' alone,
'same 's Hitty went to the beach;' nor they ain't any common truck ter
be put inter 'sylums 'n' poor-farms. There's some young ones that's so
everlastin' chuckle-headed 'n' hombly 'n' contrairy that they ain't
hardly wuth savin'; but these ain't that kind. The baby, now you've got
her cleaned up, is han'somer 'n any baby on the river, 'n' a reg'lar
chunk o' sunshine besides. I'd be willin' ter pay her a little suthin'
for livin' alongside. The boy--well, the boy is a extra-ordinary boy. We
got on tergether's slick as if we was twins. That boy's got idees,
that's what he's got; 'n' he's likely to grow up into--well, 'most
anything."
"If you think so highly of 'em, why don't you adopt 'em?" asked Miss
Vilda curtly. "That's what they seem to think folks ought to do."
"I ain't sure but I shall," Mr. Slocum responded unexpectedly. "If you
can't find a better home for 'em somewheres, I ain't sure but I'll take
'em myself. Land sakes! if Rhapseny was alive I'd adopt 'em quicker 'n
blazes; but marm won't take to the idee very strong, I don't s'pose, 'n'
she ain't much on bringin' up children, as I ken testify. Still, she's a
heap better 'n a brick asylum with a six-foot stone wall round it, when
yer come to that. But I b'lieve we ken do better for 'em. I can say to
folks, 'See here: here's a couple o' smart, han'some children. You can
have 'em for nothin', 'n' needn't resk the onsartainty o' gittin'
married 'n' raisin' yer own; 'n' when yer come ter that, yer wouldn't
stan' no charnce o' gittin' any as likely as these air, if ye did.'"
"That's true as the gospel!" said Samantha. It nearly killed her to
agree with him, but the words were fairly wrung from her unwilling lips
by his eloquence and wisdom.
"Well, we'll see what we can do for 'em," said Vilda in a non-committal
tone; "and here they'll have to stay, for all I see, tell we can get
time to turn round and look 'em up a place."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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