"Here's his clothes. I guess he ain't got much," said he.
Mrs. Rose took the newspaper bundle; then she eyed the box suspiciously.
It was a wooden salt-box, and the sliding cover was nailed on.
"What's in this?" said she.
"Oh, I don't know," replied Mr. Fairbanks; "some truck or other--I guess
it ain't worth much."
He put the box down on the bank, and trudged heavily and quickly out to
the buggy. He was anxious to be off; he shook the reins, shouted "ge
lang" to the white horse, and wheeled swiftly around the corner.
"I'd like to know what's in that box," said Mrs. Rose to Miss Elvira.
"I hope he ain't got an old pistol or anything of that kind in it,"
returned Miss Elvira. "Oh, 'Mandy, I wouldn't shake it, if I were you!"
For Mrs. Rose was shaking the wooden box, and listening with her ear at
it.
"Something rattles in it," said she, desisting; "I hope it ain't a
pistol." Then she entered with the newspaper bundle and the box, and
went through the house, with Miss Elvira following. She set the bundle
and box on the kitchen table, and looked out of the door. There on the
top step sat the Dickey boy cleaning the sassafras-roots with great
industry, while Willy Rose sat on the lower one chewing some.
"I do believe he's goin' to take right hold, Elviry," whispered Mrs.
Rose.
"Well, maybe he is," returned Miss Elvira.
Mrs. Rose stowed away the boy's belongings in the little bedroom off the
kitchen where she meant him to sleep; then she kindled the fire and got
supper.
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