Read Under the Lilacs for Free Online Page B

indeed, sir. He can go on doing it, and come up to his work just as well as not. I can see to him then, and he won’t
     be a care to anyone,” said Mrs. Moss heartily.
    “I’ll make inquiries concerning your father, boy; meantime mind what you are about, and have a good report to give when he
     comes for you,” returned the Squire, with a warning wag of a stern forefinger.
    “Thank y’, sir. I will, sir. Father’ll come just as soon as he can, if he isn’t sick or lost,” murmured Ben, inwardly thanking
     his stars that he had not done anything to make him quake before that awful finger, and resolving that he never would.
    Here a redheaded Irishman came to the door, and stood eyeing the boy with small favor while the Squire gave his orders.
    “Pat, this lad wants work. He’s to take the cows and go for them. Give him any light jobs you have, and let me know if he’s
     good for anything.”
    “Yis, your honor. Come out o’ this, b’y, till I show ye the bastes,” responded Pat; and, with a hasty good-bye to Mrs. Moss,
     Ben followed his new leader, sorely tempted to play some naughty trick upon him in return for his ungracious reception.
    But in a moment he forgot that Pat existed, for in the yard stood the Duke of Wellington, so named in honor of his Roman nose.
     If Ben had known anything about Shakespeare, he would have cried, “A horse, a horse!—my kingdom for a horse!” for the feeling
     was in his heart, and he ran up to the stately animal without a fear. Duke putback his ears and swished his tail as if displeased for a moment; but Ben looked straight in his eyes, gave a scientific stroke
     to the iron-gray nose, and uttered a chirrup which made the ears prick up as if recognizing a familiar sound.
    “He’ll nip ye, if ye go botherin’ that way. L’ave him alone, and attind to the cattle as his honor tould ye,” commanded Pat,
     who made a great show of respect toward Duke in public, and kicked him brutally in private.
    “I ain’t afraid! You won’t hurt me, will you, old feller? See there now! — he knows I’m a friend, and takes to me right off,”
     said Ben, with an arm around Duke’s neck, and his own cheek confidingly laid against the animal’s; for the intelligent eyes
     spoke to him as plainly as the little whinny which he understood and accepted as a welcome.
    The Squire saw it all from the open window, and suspecting from Pat’s face that trouble was brewing, called out—
    “Let the lad harness Duke, if he can. I’m going out directly, and he may as well try that as anything.”
    Ben was delighted, and proved himself so brisk and handy that the roomy chaise stood at the door in a surprisingly short time,
     with a smiling little ostler at Duke’s head when the Squire came out.
    His affection for the horse pleased the old gentleman, and his neat way of harnessing suited as well; but Ben got no praise,
     except a nod and a brief “All right, boy,” as the equipage went creaking and jogging away.
    Four sleek cows filed out of the barnyard when Pat opened the gate, and Ben drove them down the road to a distant pasture
     where the early grass awaited their eager cropping. By the school they went, and the boy looked pityingly at the black, brown,
     and yellow heads bobbing past the windows as a class went up to recite; for it seemed ahard thing to the liberty-loving lad to be shut up there so many hours on a morning like that.
    But a little breeze that was playing truant round the steps did Ben a service without knowing it, for a sudden puff blew a
     torn leaf to his feet, and seeing a picture he took it up. It evidently had fallen from some ill-used history, for the picture
     showed some queer ships at anchor, some oddly-dressed men just landing, and a crowd of Indians dancing about on the shore.
     Ben spelt out all he could about these interesting personages, but could not discover what it meant, because ink evidently
     had deluged the page, to the new reader’s great