The Richest Heart

Chapter 22

It was an ordinary day. There was nothing special seeming about it. The rain had been drizzling all morning long and the sun hadn't dared to shine. But, to Benjamin, that morning was the very best of the whole year. As soon as his eyes opened, he bounced out of bed and threw the window open. A cool, wet breeze blew into the room.

"It's my birthday!" he shouted joyously. He took a deep breath of the sweet air, and then put on his clothes in a hurry. Simon opened a heavy eye lid and glared up at him in irritation.

"Gotta be so loud?" he yawned.

"But, it's my birthday Simon! I'm seven, now!" the little boy exclaimed.

"What did I tell you about your birthday?" his brother grumbled. "Nobody remembered. No body cares. Go back to sleep, Benjamin, it isn't even morning yet!" It really was early. But, downstairs, Benjamin could hear his mother working, so he knew it had to be later than Simon realized.

"Ma remembered," the little boy mumbled, half to himself and half to his brother. "She wouldn't forget my birthday." He wasn't sure if he believed himself or not. Simon had been so convincing that he

had a terrible fear that his parents really had forgotten him.

Not wanting to make Simon any angrier, Benjamin tip toed out of the room and shut the door behind him. As he flew down the steps, the smell of bacon and sourdough pancakes threw away all of his doubts. His mother never made bacon and pancakes unless it was a special occasion. His eyes glittered like diamonds as he stared. The table was set, the breakfast was hot, and it was all just for him.

"Happy birthday, Lad," Amos said with a smile. "How does it feel to be a whole year older?" The boy laughed and looked down at his short legs and bare feet. As anxious as he had been to turn seven, it really didn't feel much different. He wasn't taller, he wasn't smarter, he was just the same as before. But as happy as he was that morning, he was sure his seventh year would be wonderful.

Soon, Simon stumbled sleepily into the living room and little Otho was zipping around his busy mother as she tried to finish cooking. Benjamin simply sat and watched happily. There was only one curios thing; his oldest brother was no where to be seen.

The rain dripped down from Peter's hair and soak into his clothes. For the last mile of his long walk, he had been wishing with all his might that he had brought two jackets instead of one. In his arms, a squirming ball of silky fur lay beneath his damp coat.

It had been a full week since Peter had found the puppy. Now, thanks to Mrs. Winston, it was happy and well.

"Wait till Benjamin sees you," the boy said, walking up the lane to his own house. "You'll never have a moment of peace once I give you to him. Poor thing! But, at least he won't let any more hawks get you. I'm sure of that."

Once Peter reached his own property, he stopped and thought for a moment. He knew that he could carry the dog in and drop it into Benjamin's arms, but that seemed too simple.

"How good are you at hiding, Dog?" he asked, looking down at the little creature. The puppy had poked it's head out of the jacket and it was licking Peter's arm lovingly. "Probably not very good," the boy concluded with a laugh. "But we'll try it anyway." He ran straight to the barn and set the dog down on the hay covered boards.

For a moment, the puppy stood stock still, shocked by all of the new smells. Then he let out a quiet bark and took some bounding leaps across the floor. In just a moment, he was sniffing around, exploring every corner of the building. At last, he wondered behind a mound of hay, completely out of sight.

Peter dashed into the house, pulled off his soaked hat and walked into the kitchen, leaving puddles of water behind him.

"Happy birthday, Benjamin!" he greeted in a cheerful voice. His little brother ran to his side and held up the beautiful pocket knife which his father had given him.