"All right. Thank you, sir."

With heart as light as air, David sped through the woods. He had found
his Hero.

CHAPTER II

David struck out from the shelter of the woodland and made his way to
his home, a pathetically small, rudely constructed house. The patch of
land supposed to be a garden, and in proportion to the dimensions of
the building, showed a few feeble efforts at vegetation. It was not
positively known that the Widow Dunne had a clear title to her
homestead, but one would as soon think of foreclosing a mortgage on a
playhouse, or taking a nest from a bird, as to press any claim on this
fallow fragment in the midst of prosperous farmlands.

Some discouraged looking fowls picked at the scant grass, a lean cow
switched a lackadaisical tail, and in a pen a pig grunted his
discontent.

David went into the little kitchen, where a woman was bending wearily
over a washtub.

"Mother," cried the boy in dismay, "you said you'd let the washing go
till to-morrow. That's why I didn't come right back."

She paused in the rubbing of a soaped garment and wrung the suds from
her tired and swollen hands.

"I felt better, David, and I thought I'd get them ready for you to
hang out."

David took the garment from her.

"Sit down and eat this ice cream Miss M'ri sent--no, I mean Joe Forbes
sent you. There was more, but I sold it for half a dollar; and here's
a pail of eggs and a drawing of tea she wants you to sample. She says
she is no judge of black tea."

"Joe Forbes!" exclaimed his mother interestedly. "I thought maybe he
would be coming back to look after the estate. Is he going to stay?"

"I'll tell you all about him, mother, if you will sit down."

He began a vigorous turning of the wringer.

The patient, tired-looking eyes of the woman brightened as she dished
out a saucer of the cream. The weariness in the sensitive lines of her
face and the prominence of her knuckles bore evidence of a life of
sordid struggle, but, above all, the mother love illumined her
features with a flash of radiance.

"You're a good provider, David; but tell me where you have been for so
long, and where did you see Joe?"

He gave her a faithful account of his dinner at the Brumble farm and
his subsequent meeting with Joe, working the wringer steadily as he
talked.

"There!" he exclaimed with a sigh of satisfaction, "they are ready for
the line, but before I hang them out I am going to cook your dinner."

"I am