Bad Hugh

"Ho, Claib!" he called, "saddle Rocket quick and bring him to the door.

I'm going to the cornfield."

"Lor' bless you, mas'r, it's done snow higher than Rocket's head. He

never'll stand it nohow."

"Do as I bid you," was Hugh's reply, and indolent Claib went shivering

to the stable where Hugh's best horses were kept.

A whinnying sound of welcome greeted him as he entered, but was soon

succeeded by a spirited snort as he attempted to lead out a most

beautiful dapple gray, Hugh's favorite steed, his pet of pets, and the

horse most admired and coveted in all the country.

"None of yer ars," Claib said, coaxingly, as the animal threw up its

graceful neck defiantly. "You've got to git along, 'case Mas'r Hugh say

so. You knows Mas'r Hugh."

"What is it?" Hugh asked, coming out upon the stoop, and comprehending

the trouble at a glance. "Rocket, Rocket," he cried, "easy, my boy," and

in an instant Rocket's defiant attitude changed to one of perfect

obedience.

"There, my beauty," he said, as the animal continued to prance around

him, now snuffing at the snow, which he evidently did not fancy, and

then pawing at it with his forefeet. "There, my beauty, you've showed

off enough. Come, now, I've work for you to do."

Docile as a lamb when Hugh commanded, he stood quietly while Claib

equipped him for his morning's task.

"Tell mother I shan't be back to breakfast," Hugh said, as he sprang

into the saddle, and giving loose rein to Rocket went galloping through

the snow.

Under ordinary circumstances that early ride would have been vastly

exhilarating to Hugh, who enjoyed the bracing air, but there was too

much now upon his mind to admit of his enjoying anything. Thoughts of

Adah, and the increased expense her presence would necessarily bring,

flitted across his mind, while Barney's bill, put over once, and due

again ere long, sat like a nightmare on him, for he saw no way in which

to meet it. No way save one, and Rocket surely must have felt the

throbbing of Hugh's heart as that one way flashed upon him, for he gave

a kind of coaxing whine, and dashed on over the billowy drifts faster

than before.

"No, Rocket, no," and Hugh patted his glossy neck. He'd never part with

Rocket, never. He'd sell Spring Bank first with all its incumbrances.

It was now three days since Hugh had gladdened Aunt Eunice's cottage

with the sunshine of his presence, and when she awoke that morning, and

saw how high the snow was piled around her door, she said to herself,

"The boy'll be here directly to know if I'm alive," and this accounted

for the round deal table drawn so cozily before the blazing fire, and

looking so inviting with its two plates and cups, one a fancy china

affair, sacredly kept for Hugh, whose coffee always tasted better when

sipped from its gilded side, the lightest of egg bread was steaming on

the hearth, the tenderest of steak was broiling on the griddle, while

the odor of the coffee boiling on the coals came tantalizingly to Hugh's

olfactories as Aunt Eunice opened the door, saying pleasantly: "I told 'em so. I felt it in my bones, and the breakfast is all but

ready. Put Rocket up directly, and come in to the fire."