David Dunne Part 13

"May we go down to the woods--the big woods?" asked Carey.

"It's too far for you to walk, dear," remonstrated her mother.

"David says he'll draw me in my little cart."

"Who is it that was afraid to go into the big woods, and thought it was a forest filled with wild beasts and scary things?" demanded Mr.

Winthrop.

The earnest eyes fixed on his were not at all abashed.

"With him, with David," she said simply, "I would have no afraidments."

"Afraidments?" he repeated perplexedly. "I am not sure I understand."

"Don't tease, Arthur; it's a very good word," interposed Mrs. Winthrop quickly. "It seems to have a different meaning from fear."

"Come up here, David," bade Mr. Winthrop, "and let me see what there is in you to inspire one with no 'afraidments'."

The boy came up on the steps, and did not falter under the keen but good-humored gaze.

"Do you like to play with little girls, David?"

"I like to play with these little girls," admitted David.

"And what do you like to do besides that?"

"I like to shoot."

"Oh, a hunter?"

"No; I like to shoot at a mark."

"And what else?"

"I like to read, and fish, and swim, and--"

"Eat ice cream!" finished Janey roguishly, showing her dimples.

The man caught her up in his arms.

"You are a darling, and I wish my little girl had such rosy cheeks.

David, can you show me where there is good fis.h.i.+ng?"

"Uncle Larimy can show you the best places. He knows where the ba.s.s live, and how to coax them to bite."

"And will you take me to this wonderful person to-morrow?"

"Yes, sir."

Carey now came out of the hall with her cart, and David drew her across the lawn, Janey dancing by his side. Down through the meadows wound a wheel-tracked road leading to a patch of dense woods which, to a little girl with a big imagination, could easily become a wild forest infested with all sorts of nameless terrors--terrors that make one draw the bedclothes snugly over the head at night. She gave a little frightened cry as they came into the cool, olive depths.

"I am afraid, David. Take me!"

He lifted her to his shoulder, and her soft cheek nestled against his face.

"Now you are not afraid," he said persuasively.

"No; but I would be if you put me down."

They went farther into the oak depths, until they came to a fallen tree where they rested. Janey, investigating the forestry, finally discovered a bush with slender red twigs.

"Oh," she cried, "now David will show you what beautiful things he can make for us."

"I have no pins," demurred David.

"I have," triumphantly producing a paper of the needful from her pocket. "I always carry them now."

David broke up the long twigs into short pieces, from which he skillfully fas.h.i.+oned little chairs and tables, discoursing the while to Carey on the beauty and safety of the woods. Finally Carey acquired courage to hunt for wild flowers, though her hand remained close in David's clasp.

When they returned to the house Carey gave a glowing account of the expedition.

"Sit down on the steps and rest, children," proposed Mrs. Winthrop, "while Lucy prepares a little picnic dinner for you."

"What will we do now, David?" appealed Carey, when they were seated on the porch.

"You mustn't do anything but sit still," admonished her mother.

"You've done more now than you are used to doing in one day."

"Davey will tell us a story," suggested Janey.

"Yes, please, David," urged Carey, coming to him and resting her eyes on his inquiringly, while her little hand confidently sought his knee.

Instinctively and naturally his fingers closed upon it.

Embarra.s.sed as he was at having a strange audience, he could not resist the child's appeal.

"She'll like the kind that you don't," he said musingly to Janey, "the kind about fairies and princes."

"Yes," rejoined Carey.

So he fas.h.i.+oned a tale, partly from recollections of Andersen but mostly from his own fancy. As his imagination kindled, he forgot where he was. Inspired by the spellbound interest of the dainty little girl with the wors.h.i.+ping eyes, he achieved his masterpiece.

"Upon my word," exclaimed Mr. Winthrop, "you are a veritable Scheherazade! You didn't make up that story yourself?"

"Only part of it," admitted David modestly.

When he and Janey started for home David politely delivered M'ri's message of invitation for Carey to come to the farm on the morrow to play.

"It is going to be lovely here," said the little girl happily. "And we are going to come every summer."