The Running Away of Chester Page #9

"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

								


"Oh, I must and will speak my mind, Salome. There's no one else to
take Chester's part, it seems. You have as much claim on him as
Harriet Elwell has. She ain't any real relation to him any more than
you are."

Miss Salome looked troubled. Perhaps there was something in
Clemantiny's argument. And she hated to think of seeing Chester go. He
looked more like Johnny than ever, as he stood there with his flushed
face and wistful eyes.

"Chester," she said gravely, "I leave it to you to decide. If you
think you ought to go back to your aunt, well and good. If not, you
shall stay here."

This was the hardest yet. Chester wished she had not left the decision
to him. It was like cutting off his own hand. But he spoke up
manfully.

"I--I think I ought to go back, Miss Salome, and I want to pay back
the money, too."

"I think so, too, Chester, although I'm sorry as sorry can be. I'll go
back to Upton with you. We'll start tomorrow. If, when we get there,
your aunt is willing to let you stay with me, you can come back."

"There's a big chance of that!" said Clemantiny sourly. "A woman's
likely to give up a boy like Chester--a good, steady worker and as
respectful and obliging as there is between this and sunset--very
likely, isn't she! Well, this taffy is all burnt to the saucepan and
clean ruined--but what's the odds! All I hope, Salome Whitney, is that
the next time you adopt a boy and let him twine himself 'round a
person's heart, you'll make sure first that you are going to stick to
it. I don't like having my affections torn up by the roots."

Clemantiny seized the saucepan and disappeared with it into the pantry
amid a whirl of pungent smoke.

Mount Hope Farm was a strangely dismal place that night. Miss Salome
sighed heavily and often as she made her preparations for the morrow's
journey.

Clemantiny stalked about with her grim face grimmer than ever. As for
Chester, when he went to bed that night in the little porch chamber,
he cried heartily into his pillows. He didn't care for pride any
longer; he just cried and didn't even pretend he wasn't crying when
Miss Salome came in to sit by him a little while and talk to him. That
talk comforted Chester. He realized that, come what might, he would
always have a good friend in Miss Salome--aye, and in Clemantiny, too.

Chester never knew it, but after he had fallen asleep, with the tears
still glistening on his brown cheeks, Clemantiny tiptoed silently in
with a candle in her hand and bent over him with an expression of
almost maternal tenderness on her face. It was late and an aroma of
boiling sugar hung about her. She had sat up long after Miss Salome
was abed, to boil another saucepan of taffy for Chester to eat on his
journey.

"Poor, dear child!" she said, softly touching one of his crisp curls.
"It's a shame in Salome to insist on his going back. She doesn't know
what she's sending him to, or she wouldn't. He didn't say much against
his aunt, and Salome thinks she was only just a little bit cranky. But
I could guess."

Early in the morning Miss Salome and Chester started. They were to
drive to Montrose, leave their team there and take the boat for
Belltown. Chester bade farewell to the porch chamber and the long,
white kitchen and the friendly barns with a full heart. When he
climbed into the wagon, Clemantiny put a big bagful of taffy into his
hands.

"Good-by, Chester," she said. "And remember, you've always got a
friend in me, anyhow."

Then Clemantiny went back into the kitchen and cried--good,
rough-spoken, tender-hearted Clemantiny sat down and cried.

It was an ideal day for travelling--crisp, clear and sunny--but
neither Chester nor Miss Salome was in a mood for enjoyment.

Back over Chester's runaway route they went, and reached Belltown on
the boat that evening.

They stayed in Belltown overnight and in the morning took the train to
Roxbury Station. Here Miss Salome hired a team from the storekeeper
and drove out to Upton.

Chester felt his heart sink as they drove into the Elwell yard. How
well he knew it!

Miss Salome tied her hired nag to the gatepost and took Chester by the
hand. They went to the door and knocked. It was opened with a jerk and
Mrs. Elwell stood before them. She had probably seen them from the
window, for she uttered no word of surprise at seeing Chester again.
Indeed, she said nothing at all, but only stood rigidly before them.

Dear me, what a disagreeable-looking woman! thought Miss Salome. But
she said courteously, "Are you Mrs. Elwell?"

"I am," said that lady forbiddingly.

"I've brought your nephew home," continued Miss Salome, laying her
hand encouragingly on Chester's shrinking shoulder. "I have had him
hired for some time on my farm at Hopedale, but I didn't know until
yesterday that he had run away from you. When he told me about it, I
thought he ought to come straight back and return your four dollars,
and so did he. So I have brought him."

"You might have saved yourself the trouble then!" cried Mrs. Elwell
shrilly. Her black eyes flashed with anger. "I'm done with him and
don't want the money. Run away when there was work to do, and thinks
he can come back now that it's all done and loaf all winter, does he?
He shall never enter my house again."

"That he shall not!" cried Miss Salome, at last finding her tongue.
Her gentle nature was grievously stirred by the heartlessness shown in
the face and voice of Mrs. Elwell. "That he shall not!" she cried
again. "But he shall not want for a home as long as I have one to give
him. Come, Chester, we'll go home."

"I wish you well of him," Mrs. Elwell said sarcastically.

Miss Salome already repented her angry retort. She was afraid she had
been undignified, but she wished for a moment that Clemantiny was
there. Wicked as she feared it was, Miss Salome thought she could have
enjoyed a tilt between her ancient handmaid and Mrs. Elwell.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Elwell, if I have used any intemperate
expressions," she said with great dignity. "You provoked me more than
was becoming by your remarks. I wish you good morning."

Mrs. Elwell slammed the door shut.

With her cheeks even more than usually rosy, Miss Salome led Chester
down to the gate, untied her horse and drove out of the yard. Not
until they reached the main road did she trust herself to speak to the
dazed lad beside her.

"What a disagreeable women!" she ejaculated at last. "I don't wonder
you ran away, Chester--I don't, indeed! Though, mind you, I don't
think it was right, for all that. But I'm gladder than words can say
that she wouldn't take you back. You are mine now, and you will stay
mine. I want you to call me Aunt Salome after this. Get up, horse! If
we can catch that train at Roxbury, we'll be home by night yet."
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