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h all things were very rough, and Mrs. Harwood and Mrs. Loring wondered a hundred times a day "what they should do," they finally decided, when everything in the little house was arranged to their satisfaction, that they should do very well indeed.
"Yes, very well," said Mrs. Loring, for although she called herself a servant, and was paid as such, she did not feel degraded by it, for she knew she was earning an honest living, and was respected as a friend by her employers, while Guy was looked upon almost as a son. He took the same place with the children as that held in their trip across the plains. He worked for their father, and for them, and very hard too, sometimes, but he was still their playfellow, George's guide, Gus' friend, little Aggie's comforter, and singer of songs, and teller of stories to all. As I have said, he worked hard, for even with a kind, indulgent master, like Mr. Harwood, much is thrown upon the hands of a willing boy, so Guy found there was still fires to light in the morning, water to fetch, wood to chop and carry, cows to milk, and the plough to be followed.
Sometimes he grew tired of the dull routine, and would wish himself at the diggings with the young men from St. Louis, and then with Mr. Graham, at the mill, but a glance at his mother, working over the hot stove, or washing at the spring, would render him content, for he would say, "She is happy with all her toil, while I am near, and shall I worry over a little extra work, when it keeps me with her?" And then away to his work he would go with renewed energy, and sometimes Mr. Harwood would give him a holiday which would quite revive his drooping spirits, and make him strong for weeks.
Oh, what holidays these were! Off all the children would go to the woods, that in the afternoon were full of sunshine, so warm, so beautiful; the grass would look like shaded velvet beneath them, and the leaves would glance and quiver as if they were fairies frolicking in their best clothes. And such woods as these were, in which to gather wild plums and nuts, and then to lie in the shade and tell fairy stories. "The very trees seem to say them over to us," said Aggie, the first day they spent in the woods together. "I am sure there must be something in all these sweet sounds we hear."
"Birds' songs," said George, contemptuously.
"No," said Aggie, "something more. Tell us what it is, Guy, you can always tell what the birds and animals say, you even told us what the prairie dogs said, you know."
Guy threw himself down on the green grass beside a little brook, and listened, with his eyes fixed on the yellow sands of the little stream.
"The birds are telling me that there is gold in that sand," he said at length, "they tell me there is gold throughout all this wonderful country, in every rock and chasm, and there is one big fellow that is telling me how it all came there. Shall I repeat it over to you?"
"Oh, yes, yes!" cried Aggie, in great glee.
"And let us have no more preliminary fibs," said George, "you are the greatest fellow for them, you know, Guy."
"Oh, p'shaw!" ejaculated Gus, impatient, "Let him go ahead!"
"That's just what the birds say," replied Guy, throwing himself back on the grass, and smiling gravely. "That big fellow on the bough there tells me he is delighted; that he has at last found one that can understand his language, for he has heard so many ridiculous theories advanced by men with picks on their shoulders and books in their hands, as to what gold is, and how it came on the ground, that he has nearly burst his throat in trying to make them understand the truth, and has then been accused of making a 'senseless chatter.'"
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