kept his eyes fixed on his
plate, as he said very low, "No, ma'am, I'm glad, I wanted to stay, but
I was afraid you--"

He did not finish, for Mrs. Bhaer interrupted him by an exclamation of
pity, as she saw his foot, for it was seriously hurt.

"When did you do it?"

"Three days ago."

"And you have walked on it in this state?"

"I had a stick, and I washed it at every brook I came to, and one woman
gave me a rag to put on it."

"Mr. Bhaer must see and dress it at once," and Mrs. Jo hastened into the
next room, leaving the door ajar behind her, so that Dan heard all that
passed.

"Fritz, the boy has come back."

"Who? Dan?"

"Yes, Teddy saw him at the window, and he called to him, but he went
away and hid behind the hay-cocks on the lawn. I found him there just
now fast asleep, and half dead with weariness and pain. He ran away
from Page a month ago, and has been making his way to us ever since. He
pretends that he did not mean to let us see him, but go on to the city,
and his old work, after a look at us. It is evident, however, that the
hope of being taken in has led him here through every thing, and there
he is waiting to know if you will forgive and take him back."

"Did he say so?"

"His eyes did, and when I waked him, he said, like a lost child, 'Mother
Bhaer, I've come home.' I hadn't the heart to scold him, and just took
him in like a poor little black sheep come back to the fold. I may keep
him, Fritz?"

"Of course you may! This proves to me that we have a hold on the boy's
heart, and I would no more send him away now than I would my own Rob."

Dan heard a soft little sound, as if Mrs. Jo thanked her husband without
words, and, in the instant's silence that followed, two great tears that
had slowly gathered in the boy's eyes brimmed over and rolled down his
dusty cheeks. No one saw them, for he brushed them hastily away; but
in that little pause I think Dan's old distrust for these good people
vanished for ever, the soft spot in his heart was touched, and he felt
an impetuous desire to prove himself worthy of the love and pity that
was so patient and forgiving. He said nothing, he only wished the wish
with all his might, resolved to try in his blind boyish way, and
sealed his resolution with the tears which neither pain, fatigue, nor
loneliness could wring from him.

"Come and see his foot. I am afraid it is badly hurt, for he has kept
on three days through heat and dust, with nothing but w