He filled the air all the way with
snatches of oratorios, gospel hymns, and dialect and coon songs, in a
startlingly varied programme. The one thing Freckles knew that he could
do was to sing. The Duncans heard him coming a mile up the corduroy and
could not believe their senses. Freckles unfastened the box from
his belt, and gave Mrs. Duncan and the children all the eatables
it contained, except one big piece of cake that he carried to the
sweet-loving Duncan. He put the flowers back in the box and set it among
his books. He did not say anything, but they understood it was not to be
touched.
"Thae's Freckles' flow'rs," said a tiny Scotsman, "but," he added
cheerfully, "it's oor sweeties!"
Freckles' face slowly flushed as he took Duncan's cake and started
toward the swamp. While Duncan ate, Freckles told him something about
the evening, as well as he could find words to express himself, and the
big man was so amazed he kept forgetting the treat in his hands.
Then Freckles mounted his wheel and began a spin that terminated only
when the biggest Plymouth Rock in Duncan's coop saluted a new day, and
long lines of light reddened the east.
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