Читать книгу Prince Dusty. A Story of the Oil Regions онлайн

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Here he said: “Wife, I believe we have treated that little chap very unjustly. My brother Richard was the most truthful and honorable boy and man I ever knew, and I am inclined to think the son takes after his father. Hereafter I shall try to make his life pleasanter and happier, and in this I want you to help me.”

Mrs. Dustin made no answer to this, for her heart was hardened against the orphan lad, and she really believed him to be the sly bad boy that Dick strove to make him appear. “I will watch him more closely than ever, and show him up in his true light yet,” she thought, as she bent her head over her sewing so that her husband could not see her face. “He sha’n’t stand in the way of my children, and I’ll believe my own Dick’s word before his every time,” was her mental resolve.

Knowing nothing of his wife’s thoughts, Mr. Dustin was already taking steps to insure Arthur’s greater comfort. He went to the pantry and brought from it a bowl of milk, a loaf of new bread, and a plate of ginger cookies made that day. With these he again entered Arthur’s sleeping-room, and softly placed them on a chair where, by the light of the moon that was just rising, the boy would see them whenever he should awake. Once, while he was thus engaged, Mrs. Dustin opened her mouth to remonstrate against such a lavish provision of food for a mere child; but a glance at her husband’s determined face caused her to change her mind, and she wisely remained silent.