II

BEECHNUT

Margaret felt very much disappointed to have Carlo go away. After a short time, however, she began to think of other things, and forgot her trouble altogether. The sun shone so cheerfully, and the fresh, spring-like air produced so invigorating an effect as to make her feel quite bright and happy.

"I think I'll take a little walk," said she. So she got up and walked along the piazza. Between the piazza and the garden there was a little yard, and the snow had entirely melted away from the part of the yard next to the house. The ground was bare, and she stepped down on it. A plank walk led along by the side of the yard, and as she was not quite sure it was right for her to go on the ground, she went to the plank walk and passed along on it between some rose and lilac bushes on one side and a shed on the other.

At length she came to a door leading into the shed. It was shut, but she opened it and looked in. On the opposite side of the shed was a large double door which was wide open, and she heard the sound of some one cutting wood out in the yard beyond.

"I wonder who that is," said she.

She walked through the shed expecting that when she reached the double door she could see who was cutting wood, but she found that the woodpile was in the way. She thought the chopper must be a boy who worked for her aunt, and who commonly went by the name of Beechnut. As she wished very much to go where he was she began to call as loudly as she could, "Beechnut! Beechnut!"

The sound of the ax ceased, and Beechnut came around the end of the woodpile. He was a tall boy about fourteen years of age. His real name was not Beechnut, but Antoine Bianchinetti. He had been brought up in Paris until two years ago, when his father came across the Atlantic with him to Canada.

Shortly afterwards, his father decided to remove to the United States. He took with him all the money he had, and a supply of provisions to eat by the way, and he and Antoine started to travel through the woods on foot. In the midst of the journey Antoine's father fell sick and died, and Antoine had to come the remainder of the way alone. Soon he ate all his provisions and then began to live on what the farmers would give him as he went along, and, to some extent, on the nuts he found in the woods.

In this manner he continued for two or three days and then reached Franconia. The house of Mrs. Henley was near the road, and when he came to it he sat down near the front gate on a mounting-stone — that is, a stone with a step by the side of it, which was used for mounting horses and getting into carriages. He sat there waiting for some one to see him from the house and come and offer him something to eat.

This was what he always did when he was hungry. He was too proud to beg. At all the farmhouses where he stopped he never would go to the door and ask for food, but would sit down on a log or a stone near the house until the people saw him. Then, if they were kind-hearted, they would come out and ask him where he was going, and if anything was the matter. If they were not kind-hearted he did not wish for their help. He would rather go on alone and live on nuts.

He had plenty of money with him, but it was all in valuable gold pieces, and he did not think that the farmers would be willing to change them. Besides, he was not sure it would be safe to have it known that he had so much money in his possession.

When Antoine reached Mrs. Henley's house he sat down and waited patiently. At last Frank saw him and went and told his mother there was a boy out on the mounting-stone with a pack on his back and a cane in his hand, as if he were a traveler. Mrs. Henley told Frank he might go out and speak with the boy and ask him if he had been traveling far, and what his name was, and if he were hungry.

So Frank went out to the stranger and said, "My mother wants to know if you have been traveling far."

Antoine hesitated as if making a calculation. He was running over in his mind the distance from Paris across the ocean to Montreal, and from Montreal to Franconia. "About four thousand miles as near as I can tell," he said.

"What is your name?" asked Frank.

"Antoine Bianchinetti," the boy replied.

Frank studied on this singular name a moment in silence. He could make nothing of the first part of it, and he thought the second word was meant for Beechnut.

"Where are you going?" Frank inquired after a little pause.

"I don't know," responded Antoine, shaking his head mournfully.

"Are you hungry?" asked Frank.

"Yes," said Antoine, "I am hungry and tired."

Frank then went in and told his mother that the boy out there said that he had walked four thousand miles, and that his name was Beechnut.

Mrs. Henley laughed at the absurdity of this, but Frank persisted that it was what the boy had told him. He might be wrong, he said, about the distance the boy had walked. "But I am very sure," declared Frank with great earnestness, " that the boy said his name was Beechnut, only he did not pronounce it very well."

Mrs. Henley sent out to invite the stranger to come in. She gave him some supper, and then becoming more and more interested in him and in his story, she invited him to stay all night.

Her husband was away from home. He had business which made it necessary for him to travel a good deal, and the directing of the household affairs, and those of the farm also, fell largely to his wife. It happened that he returned the day after Beechnut, as Frank called him, arrived, and when he and Mrs. Henley had consulted together they decided to engage the boy to remain and work about the house for wages.

Antoine hid the money he had brought with him in the barn, and said nothing about it for some time. However, as soon as he became well enough acquainted with Mr. Henley to feel certain that he was trustworthy, he took it to him and gave it into his care. Mr. Henley was much surprised, but he received the money and put it out at interest for Antoine's future benefit.

The name Frank had given the stranger was adopted by the other members of the family; but in the village he was generally called Antonio or Antony, and some of the village boys shortened this to Tony. As he was very good-natured he did not care what they called him. He had now been at Mrs. Henley's house two years and was a great favorite with all who knew him.

It has already been related how Margaret called to him when he was chopping in the yard. He came around the woodpile, and she said, "I want to go where you are."

"All right," Beechnut responded, "and would you like to ride or walk?"

"Why — ride," said Margaret.

"And will you ride in a sleigh, a carriage, a cart, or on a drag?" asked Beechnut.

He was always doing or saying something which the children considered funny. Margaret smiled, and after hesitating a moment concluded to say, "On a drag."

"And how will you be drawn," said Beechnut, "by oxen, or a horse, or a locomotive, or a bear?"

"By a bear," was Margaret's answer.

"Very well," said Beechnut, and he went around the end of the woodpile and disappeared.

Margaret waited some minutes, and she was beginning to wonder what had become of him when she heard a noise behind her. She turned, and there was Beechnut all covered up with a bearskin carriage robe, and he was crawling along on his hands and knees, growling as he came.

"Why, Beechnut!" exclaimed Margaret.

Beechnut threw off the bearskin and rose to his feet. He then went to the side of the shed and got a large tray such as is used in carrying dishes to and from the table. It was much worn and had been thrown out from the house. Beechnut put it down on the snow and told Margaret it was her drag. He helped her to seat herself on it, and it was so large there was plenty of room.

Next he went and got a strap and fastened it to the handle of the tray. After that he wrapped himself again in the bearskin, got down on all fours, took hold of the end of the strap, and dragged Margaret along over the snow, growling all the time like a bear.

The side of the woodpile which was toward Margaret was covered with snow, but Beechnut took her around to the other side where the sun shone warm and the snow had melted off. He drew her over the chips to a pleasant corner and placed her so that she could lean against a smooth log. Then he laid the bearskin on the woodpile and returned to his work. But he had not been chopping long when Margaret said, "Beechnut, I wish you would make me a seat with the bearskin."

So Beechnut put a short board down near the end of the log which was at Margaret's back, and supported it on two sticks to make a little bunch. He then spread the bearskin over the seat and log in such a manner as to form a sort of cushioned chair that was both soft and warm. When the seat was finished Margaret sat down on it and Beechnut once more resumed, his work. He cut off several logs and split them with a beetle and wedges, talking all the time to Margaret and making her laugh.

After a while, Margaret got up and said it was time for her to go in. Beechnut told her he was very much obliged to her for giving him her company, and that the next time she came out to see him he would make her something.

"What will you make me?" asked Margaret.

"Oh, I don't know exactly," replied Beechnut. "I will make you a horse or a seesaw, whichever you prefer."

Beechnut then took Margaret up in his arms and carried her across the snow back to the shed. He put her down at the door, and she walked through the shed to the other yard and thence along the planks to the piazza and went into the house.