“Frank's a good fellow,” he said to himself. “Some boys would have been mad, and made a great fuss. But he didn't seem angry at all, not even with John Haynes, and did all he could to screen me. Well I'm glad I didn't succeed.”
Dick reached home without any further mischance, and succeeded in crawling in at the window without making any sound loud enough to wake up his parents.
The next day John, who had been informed of his intention to make the attempt the evening previous, contrived to meet him.
“Well, Dick,” he said eagerly, “what success last night?”
“Frank came out to get some herbs to make tea for the hired man, and so caught me.”
“You didn't tell him who put you up to it?” said John apprehensively.
“No,” said Dick coolly; “I don't do such things.”
“That's good,” said John, relieved. “Was he mad?”
“No, he didn't make any fuss. He asked what made me do it, and I told him somebody else put it into my head.”
“You did! I thought you said you didn't.”
“I didn't tell who that somebody was, but Frank said he could guess.”
“I don't think he'll try,” said Dick. “The fact is, John, Frank's a good fellow, and if you want to get anybody to do him any mischief hereafter, you'd better not apply to me.”
“I don't know as he's any better than other boys,” said John, sneering. He did not enjoy hearing Frank's praises.
“He's better than either of us, I'm sure of that,” said Dick decidedly.
“Speak for yourself, Dick Bumstead,” said John haughtily. “I wouldn't lower myself by a comparison with him. He's only a laborer, and will grow up a clodhopper.”
“He's my friend, John Haynes,” said Dick stoutly, “and if you've got anything else to say against him, you'll oblige me by going farther off.”
That day, to his father's surprise, Dick worked with steady industry, and did not make a single attempt to shirk.
The village of Rossville was distant about five miles from the long line of railway which binds together with iron bands the cities of New York and Boston. Only when the wind was strongly that way could the monotonous noise of the railway-train be heard, as the iron monster, with its heavy burden, sped swiftly on its way.
Lately a covered wagon had commenced running twice a day between Rossville and the railway-station at Wellington. It was started at seven in the morning, in time to meet the early trains, and again at four, in order to receive any passengers who might have left the city in the afternoon.