Jewel's Story Book Part 29

"Ah," returned the old woman dryly, "that is a different thing."

Gabriel scarcely heard her. He opened his precious book.

"There," he cried triumphantly, "see the living words:--

"'_Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of G.o.d which is in Christ Jesus our Lord_.'"

"H'm," said the old woman. "The print is too fine for my old eyes."

"Yes, perhaps 'tis for that that the letters flame like threads of fire.

You see them?"

"Ahem!" returned Mother Lemon, for she saw no flaming letters, and she looked curiously at the boy's radiant face. Moreover, Tommy suddenly leaped from her shoulder to his. All signs of the cat's fear and anger had vanished, and as it rubbed its sleek fur against Gabriel's cheek, it purred so loudly that Mother Lemon marveled.

"Had my father studied this book he might have been happy," continued the boy; "but he is offended with me and has sent me out into the world, and well I know that an unhappy heart drives him."

"Go back, boy, and make your peace with him," cried Mother Lemon excitedly, "or you will get nothing."

"Oh, I have received what I asked for. I asked to have this cottage, and he gave it to me, and I have come now to give it to you, Mother Lemon."

"My lad!" exclaimed the amazed woman, and her eyes swam with sudden tears.

"You will have no more rent to pay," said Gabriel, stroking the cat.

"And what is to become of you?" asked the woman, much moved.

"I cannot go home," replied the boy quietly; "and in any case I have to give Topaz, the dog, back to his owner. Why do you weep, Mother Lemon?

Haven't I G.o.d to take care of me, and isn't He greater than all men?"

"Yes, lad. The Good Book says He is king of heaven and earth."

"Then if you believe it, why are you sad?"

Mother Lemon dried her eyes, and at this moment they heard a great scratching on the door of the shed; for Topaz had wakened from a nap and heard Gabriel's voice.

"Ah, that I had never given you the penny!" wailed the old woman, "for then you would not have bought the yellow dog and gone away where I shall see you no more."

Gabriel's sober face smiled. "Yes, you will see me again, Mother Lemon, when my fortune is made. You have G.o.d, too, you know."

"Ay, boy. I'm nearer Him to-day than for many a long year. My blessing go with you wherever you are; and now let me have Tommy, that he does not fly at your dancer, to whom I say good riddance. Good-by, lad, good-by, and G.o.d bless you for your goodness and generosity to a lonely old creature!"

So saying, Mother Lemon took the cat in her arms, and, going into the house, fastened the door and pulled down the windows, while Gabriel went to the shed, and taking out the wooden staple released his prisoner.

Like a living nugget of gold the little dog leaped and capered about the boy, expressing his joy by the liveliest antics, barking meanwhile in a manner to set Tommy's nerves on edge; but Gabriel ran laughing before him into the forest, not stopping until they reached the brookside, where they both slaked their thirst. Then he put the Book of Life carefully into his blouse, and opening the package gave Topaz some of the bread and meat it contained.

All the time there was a pain in Gabriel's heart because Topaz, by the morning light, was gayer, prettier, more loving than ever, and his clear eyes looked so trustfully into Gabriel's that it was not easy to swallow the lump that rose in the boy's throat at the thought of parting with him.

At last the package of food was again tied, and Gabriel was ready to start.

Topaz stood expectantly before him, his eyes gleaming softly, the color of golden sand as it lies beneath sunlit water.

The boy sat a moment watching the alert face which said as plainly as words: "Whatever you are going to do, I am eager to do it, too."

Gabriel thoughtfully drew the silky ears through his hands. "G.o.d made you, too, Topaz, and He knows I love you. If it please Him, we shall not find your master this first day."

Then he jumped up and searched for a good stick. He tried the temper of a couple by whipping the air, and when he found one stiff enough, ran it through the string about the bundle and looked around for Topaz. To his astonishment the dog had disappeared. He whistled, but there was no sign.

Gabriel's face grew blank, then flushed as the reason of the dog's flight flashed upon him. It forced tears into his eyes to think that any one could have struck the pretty creature, and that Topaz could have suffered enough to distrust even him.

He threw down stick and bundle and walked around anxiously, whistling from time to time. At last his quick eyes caught the gleam of golden color behind a bush. Even Topaz's fright could not take him far while a doubt remained; but he was crouching to the ground, and his eyes were appealing.

Gabriel threw himself down beside the little fellow, and for a minute his wet eyes were pressed to the silky fur, while he stroked his playmate.

Topaz licked his face, and the dog's fear fled forever. He followed Gabriel back to the place where the bundle was dropped, and the boy patted him while he took up the stick and set it across his shoulder.

Topaz's ears flapped with joy as they started on their tramp.

Gabriel put away all thought of the future and frolicked with his playmate as they went along, throwing a stick which Topaz would bring, and beg with short, sharp barks that the boy would throw once more, when he would race after it like a streak of sunshine, his golden curls flying.

From time to time Gabriel ran races with him, and no boy at school could beat Gabriel at running, so Topaz had a lively morning.

By the time the sun was high in the heavens they were both hungry and glad to rest. They found the shade of a large tree, and there Gabriel opened his package again, and when he tied it up it made a very small bundle on the end of the stick he carried over his shoulder.

There was not so much running this afternoon. Gabriel and Topaz had come a long way, and toward evening they began to see the roofs of the town ahead of them.

The dog no longer raced to right and left after b.u.t.terfly and bird, but trotted sedately at the boy's heel, and after a time Gabriel picked him up and carried him, for the thought came that perhaps Topaz could earn them a place to sleep, and Gabriel wished to rest the little legs that could be so nimble.

It was nearly dusk when they reached a cultivated field and then a farmhouse. Some children were playing in the yard, and when they saw a dusty boy turn in at the gate, they ran to the house crying that a beggar was coming.

Their mother came out from the door, and the expression of her face told plainly that she meant to drive the dusty couple away.

Gabriel set down the dog and took off his hat, and his clear eyes looked out of his grimy face.

"I am not a beggar," he said simply. "I go to the town to return this dog to its master, but night is coming on, and we should like to sleep on the hay."

"How do I know you are not a thief?" returned the woman. "It is not a very likely story that you are tramping way to town to give back a yellow dog."

"He is a dog of high degree," declared Gabriel, "and if you will let us sleep in your barn he will dance for you."

Upon this the children begged in chorus to see the dog dance, and the mother consented; so Topaz, when he was bade, sat up, and then, as Gabriel whistled, the dainty, dusty little white feet began to pirouette, and the children clapped their hands for joy and would have kept the dancer at his work until dark, but that Gabriel would not have it so.

"We have come far," he said. "Let us rest now, and in the morning Topaz will dance for you again."

So all consented and escorted the strangers to the barn, where there was a clean, sweet hay-loft.

The little dog remembered the night before, and whined under his breath and wagged his tail as he looked at Gabriel, as if begging the boy not to leave him.

Gabriel understood, and patted the silky coat. It took him some minutes to get rid of the children, who wished to continue to caress and play with Topaz; but at last they were gone and the two weary wanderers could lie down on the sweet hay. As Topaz nestled into his arms Gabriel felt very thankful to G.o.d for their long happy day. If the master should come to-morrow--well, the only thing to do was to give up his playfellow, and he should still be grateful for the day and night they had spent together.

Bright sunlight was streaming through the c.h.i.n.ks of the rafters when the travelers awoke. Sounds of men and horses leaving the barn died away, and then Gabriel arose and shook himself. Topaz jumped about in delight that another day had commenced. The boy looked at him wistfully. Was this to be their last morning together?

He felt the little book in his blouse and taking it out, opened it. It was dark in the barn, but, as ever, this wonderful book had a light of its own, and in tiny letters of flame there appeared this verse:--