The Flying Circus by Susan Crandall

was entirely different from hiding from the law. This time far more was at stake than banishment to the barn or a withheld dinner—even though when Mrs. Dahlgren had dictated the no-supper punishment, Mr. Dahlgren had always managed to sneak out a little something for Henry to eat after his wife had retired for the night.
    But overall, Henry had been too slow in seeing the risks on that farm. And it had led to his current predicament.
    H enry’s first Christmas Eve on the Dahlgren farm had come exactly twelve days after his arrival. He’d watched with a disjointed kind of sadness as Mr. Dahlgren dragged a giant evergreen into the house. Ma hadalways made Pa chop a tree, usually a pitiful, scrappy thing that probably wouldn’t have survived the winter. And they’d sung carols around it—at least Ma, Peter, and Henry had. He was used to missing his family, but the long, work-filled days kept him occupied in his waking hours and pressed him into an exhausted sleep afterward. But Christmas Day would be different. The only work that would be done was feeding the livestock. He would have an entire empty day stretched out before him.
    He thought maybe Mr. Dahlgren’s troubles inside the house were getting worse instead of better when it came to Henry. It was hard to tell. Mr. Dahlgren ate supper with Henry most nights. More than once, through the kitchen window, Henry had seen Mrs. Dahlgren arguing with Mr. as he headed out with two plates. It didn’t seem to sit well with the older daughters either. One time he’d seen Emmaline thrust herself between her papa and the door, refusing to let him pass. After a bit Emmaline moved and Mr. Dahlgren had come out. As the door closed behind him, Henry had seen Emmaline run from the kitchen. Henry felt bad about it. But he really liked his time with Mr. Dahlgren.
    Henry didn’t expect Mr. Dahlgren to eat with him that night. Not on Christmas Eve. So he stretched out on his cot and opened the book Mr. Dahlgren had brought out on Henry’s second night. Mr. Dahlgren had a big library and said Henry could read any book he wanted. He was still trying to figure out how he was going to choose a book if he wasn’t ever allowed in the house.
    He was only about three-quarters of the way through The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn . That’s how he would fill tomorrow. Then he’d ask Mr. Dahlgren to pick something else; he’d done real good picking this one.
    Right at regular dinnertime, Mr. Dahlgren appeared with two plates. “ God jul , young Henry.” He smiled and nodded. “Merry Christmas.”
    Henry sat up. “Merry Christmas, sir.”
    “I cannot stay long tonight, there are gifts and songs and too many high voices, but a papa must sometimes be strong.” He winked as he handed Henry his dinner. “But I did not want you to eat this important meal alone.”
    “Thank you, but you don’t have to stay.” Henry looked down at the plate heaped with more food than he used to eat in a week back home.
    Before long, Emmaline called from the house, “Papa! Papa, come now! You promised!”
    Mr. Dahlgren shook his head, but he was smiling. “I must go.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrapped, flat package. “I did not have much time, so I hope you will not be disappointed.”
    Henry stared at the package. “Disappointed?”
    “In your gift. Next year I will have time to plan a proper boy’s gift.” He handed the package to Henry and nodded for him to open it.
    It was a book. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
    “For me to keep, sir?”
    “Of course!”
    “Thank you. I’ve never had a book of my own before.”
    “You will have many more. I have also ordered a periodical publication I think you will like. It is about machines and science. It will come in the post all year long.”
    Henry sat there staring at the book in his hand, unable to speak.
    Mr. Dahlgren put his hand on the top of Henry’s head. “You are a good boy. You deserve better than this barn. I will work on