When they reached Mercer where they were
to spend the night, he had nothing whatever to say: his eyes were
closing with fatigue, and he was asleep almost before his little
yellow head touched the pillow. In the morning he asked a question:
"Is it a Aunt if you don't know it?" "What?" said Dr. Lavendar,
winding his clean stock carefully around his neck.
But David relapsed into silence. He asked so few questions that day
that crutches for lame ducks were referred to only once.
They took the afternoon stage for Old Chester. It was a blue,
delicious October day, David sat on the front seat between Dr.
Lavendar and Jonas, and as Jonas told them all that had happened
during their long absence, the child felt a reviving interest in life.
Dr. Lavendar's humming broke out into singing; he sang scraps of songs
and hymns, and teased David about being sleepy. "I believe he's lost
his tongue, Jonas; he hasn't said boo! since we left Mercer. I suppose
he won't have a thing to tell Mrs. Richie, not a thing!"
"Well, now, there!" said Jonas, "her George gimme a letter for you,
and I'll be kicked if I ain't forgot it!" He thrust his left leg out,
so that his cow-hide boot hung over the dashboard, and fumbled in his
pocket; then thrust out the right leg and fumbled in another pocket;
then dived into two or three coat pockets; finally a very crumpled
note, smelling of the stable, came up from the depths and was handed
to Dr.
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