The Running Away of Chester Page #6

"The Running Away of Chester" is a charming short story by Lucy Maud Montgomery that follows the adventures of a young boy named Chester who feels misunderstood and trapped in his mundane life. In his quest for freedom and excitement, Chester decides to run away, leading to a series of encounters that help him gain a deeper understanding of himself and the importance of love and belonging. Montgomery's signature lyrical prose and rich character development evoke a sense of nostalgia and highlight the struggles of childhood, making the story resonate with readers of all ages.

• Short story

								


After dinner Chester decided that it was time to make himself useful.

"Can't I go right to work now?" he asked.

"We don't begin harvest till tomorrow," said Miss Salome. "You'd
better rest this afternoon."

"Oh, I'm all right now," insisted Chester. "I feel fine. Please give
me something to do."

"You can go out and cut me some wood for my afternoon's baking," said
Clemantiny. "And see you cut it short enough. Any other boy that's
tried always gets it about two inches too long."

When he had gone out, she said scornfully to Miss Salome, "Well, what
do you expect that size to accomplish in a harvest field, Salome
Whitney?"

"Not very much, perhaps," said Miss Salome mildly. "But what could I
do? You wouldn't have me turn the child adrift on the world again,
would you, Clemantiny?"

Clemantiny did not choose to answer this appeal. She rattled her
dishes noisily into the dishpan.

"Well, where are you going to put him to sleep?" she demanded. "The
hands you've got will fill the kitchen chamber. There's only the spare
room left. You'll hardly put him there, I suppose? Your philanthropy
will hardly lead you as far as that."

When Clemantiny employed big words and sarcasm at the same time, the
effect was tremendous. But Miss Salome didn't wilt.

"What makes you so prejudiced against him?" she asked curiously.

"I'm not prejudiced against him. But that story about himself didn't
ring true. I worked in Upton years ago, and there weren't any Bensons
there then. There's more behind that he hasn't told. I'd find out what
it was before I took him into my house, that's all. But I'm not
prejudiced."

"Well, well," said Miss Salome soothingly, "we must do the best we can
for him. It's a sort of duty. And as for a room for him--why, I'll put
him in Johnny's."

Clemantiny opened her mouth and shut it again. She understood that it
would be a waste of breath to say anything more. If Miss Salome had
made up her mind to put this freckled, determined-looking waif,
dropped on her doorstep from heaven knew where, into Johnny's room,
that was an end of the matter.

"But I'll not be surprised at anything after this," she muttered as
she carried her dishes into the pantry. "First a skinny little urchin
goes and faints on her doorstep. Then she hires him and puts him in
Johnny's room. Johnny's room! Salome Whitney, what do you mean?"

Perhaps Miss Salome hardly knew what she meant. But somehow her heart
went out warmly to this boy. In spite of Clemantiny's sniffs, she held
to the opinion that he looked like Johnny. Johnny was a little nephew
of hers. She had taken him to bring up when his parents died, and she
had loved him very dearly. He had died four years ago, and since that
time the little front room over the front porch had never been
occupied. It was just as Johnny had left it. Beyond keeping it
scrupulously clean, Miss Salome never allowed it to be disturbed. And
now a somewhat ragged lad from nowhere was to be put into it! No
wonder Clemantiny shook her head when Miss Salome went up to air it.

       *       *       *       *       *

Even Clemantiny had to admit that Chester was willing to work. He
split wood until she called him to stop. Then he carried in the
wood-box full, and piled it so neatly that even the grim handmaiden
was pleased. After that, she sent him to the garden to pick the early
beans. In the evening he milked three cows and did all the chores,
falling into the ways of the place with a deft adaptability that went
far to soften Clemantiny's heart.

"He's been taught to work somewheres," she admitted grudgingly, "and
he's real polite and respectful. But he looks too cute by half. And
his name isn't Benson any more than mine. When I called him 'Chester
Benson' out there in the cow-yard, he stared at me fer half a minute
'sif I'd called him Nebuchadnezzar."

When bedtime came, Miss Salome took Chester up to a room whose
whiteness and daintiness quite took away the breath of a lad who had
been used to sleeping in garrets or hired men's kitchen chambers all
his life. Later on Miss Salome came in to see if he was comfortable,
and stood, with her candle in her hand, looking down very kindly at
the thin, shrewd little face on the pillow.

"I hope you'll sleep real well here, Chester," she said. "I had a
little boy once who used to sleep here. You--you look like him. Good
night."

She bent over him and kissed his forehead. Chester had never been
kissed by anyone before, so far as he could remember. Something came
up in his throat that felt about as big as a pumpkin. At the same
moment he wished he could have told Miss Salome the whole truth about
himself. I might tell her in the morning, he thought, as he watched
her figure passing out of the little porch chamber.

But on second thought he decided that this would never do. He felt
sure she would disapprove of his running away, and would probably
insist upon his going straight back to Upton or, at least, informing
Aunt Harriet of his whereabouts. No, he could not tell her.

Clemantiny was an early riser, but when she came into the kitchen the
next morning the fire was already made and Chester was out in the yard
with three of the five cows milked.

"Humph!" said Clemantiny amiably. "New brooms sweep clean."

But she gave him cream with his porridge that morning. Generally, all
Miss Salome's hired hands got from Clemantiny was skim milk.

Miss Salome's regular hired man lived in a little house down in the
hollow. He soon turned up, and the other two men she had hired for
harvest also arrived. Martin, the man, looked Chester over
quizzically.

"What do you think you can do, sonny?"

"Anything," said Chester sturdily. "I'm used to work."

"He's right," whispered Clemantiny aside. "He's smart as a steel trap.
But just you keep an eye on him all the same, Martin."

Chester soon proved his mettle in the harvest field. In the brisk
three weeks that followed, even Clemantiny had to admit that he earned
every cent of his wages. His active feet were untiring and his wiry
arms could pitch and stock with the best. When the day's work was
ended, he brought in wood and water for Clemantiny, helped milk the
cows, gathered the eggs, and made on his own responsibility a round
of barns and outhouses to make sure that everything was snug and tight
for the night.

"Freckles-and-Bones has been well trained somewhere," said Clemantiny
again.

It was hardly fair to put the bones in now, for Chester was growing
plump and hearty. He had never been so happy in his life. Upton
drudgery and that dreadful week in Montrose seemed like a bad dream.
Here, in the golden meadows of Mount Hope Farm, he worked with a right
good will. The men liked him, and he soon became a favourite with
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes