"Sit still Louis, sit still an' Jack will come to you!"
It was impossible to run very fast through the water; and to Aunt Nancy, who stood on the bank in helpless grief, it seemed as if the deformed lad hardly moved, so slow was his progress.
More than once did it appear as if the baby would attempt to leave the raft in order to meet his crooked guardian; but by dint of coaxing, Jack succeeded in persuading him to remain seated until he gained his side.
Then he lifted the child in his arms, staggering ashore to where the little woman stood waiting to receive him, and the rescue was accomplished.
Aunt Nancy alternately laughed and cried as she pressed Louis closely to her bosom, and Jack stood silently by, wondering whether he was to be scolded for having so grossly neglected his charge.
It was several moments before she paid any attention to the older boy, and then it was to exclaim,—
"Mercy on us, Jack! I had entirely forgotten you! Run home as soon as possible, or you will catch your death a cold!"
"A wettin' won't hurt me on a warm day like this. I'm used to such things."
"But you must change your clothes at once, and there's no other way but to put on one of my dresses again."
Jack gave no heed to this suggestion, or command, whichever it might be called. He was trying to understand how the baby could have come so far without assistance, when Aunt Nancy said suddenly,—
"It doesn't take one loner to realize how the dear little fellow came here. Those wicked boys must have found him near the shed, and brought him to this place."
Several poles lying near by told how the raft was forced toward the centre of the pond, and the fact that three fellows had been seen running through the bushes was sufficient proof, at least to Aunt Nancy and Jack, that Bill Dean and his friends had done the mischief.
"I should forget everything I ought to remember if I had that Dean boy here this minute!" the little woman said angrily as she surveyed the evidences of the cruel work. "It is a burning shame that such as he should be allowed among decent people!"
"We don't know for certain that it was Bill Dean," Jack suggested.
"Yes, we do, for there is no other boy in this town who does such things. I shall see his father again, and when I do it will be very hard work to rule my spirit."
"It only makes them worse to complain."
"Then I will have him arrested!" And now Aunt Nancy spoke in such an angry tone that Jack did not venture to reply; but he knew from past experience that she would soon be sorry for having given way to her temper.
Again the little woman spoke of Jack's condition as if she had not noticed it before, and insisted on his coming home at once, although she could not have supposed he wished to go anywhere else.
Louis apparently had no idea he had been exposed to danger, but laughed and pulled at the tiny ringlets either side Aunt Nancy's face until her anger vanished, and she said in a tone of penitence,—
"Really, Jack dear, I get frightened sometimes when I realize how wicked I am growing. I can't seem to control my temper in anything which concerns the baby, and goodness knows how it is all going to end. I began by telling a lie, and now say terrible things on the slightest provocation, though goodness knows this would have stirred up almost any one. You see I took the first step, which is the hardest, and now fall before the least temptation."
"You oughtent talk that way, Aunt Nancy. If everybody was as good as you are, this would be an awful nice place to live in."
The little woman shook her head as if reproaching him for his words of praise, but did not continue the subject, because by this time they had arrived at the house, and it was necessary she should get the garments Jack had worn once before.
Again the hunchback received a ducking under the pump, and then went out to the barn to make his toilet.
"Come back as soon as you can, for I want to show you what I bought, and between us we must decide what we shall have for supper to-morrow."
When Jack returned to the house, Aunt Nancy had her purchases arranged on the table that he might see them to the best advantage, and then came the discussion of what was a very important matter in the little woman's mind.
"I bought citron so as to make that kind of cake if you think it would be nicer than sponge, though I have always been very fortunate in making sponge cake, and that is a good deal more than most people can say."
"Why not have both kinds?"
"I declare I never thought of that. It is the very thing, and I'll begin at once while you finish the dishes. This time we'll see if between both of us we can't keep Louis away from those wicked boys. I got a nice ham, for that is always good cold, and I engaged two chickens from Daniel Chick. Had we better have them roasted or boiled?"
"I thought this was to be only a supper."
"That's what it is; but it would never do to have but one kind of cold meat. Why, if you'll believe me, Mrs. Souders had chicken, ham, and tongue, to say nothing of soused pig's feet."
"Your supper'll be better'n hers if you make plenty of hot biscuit."
"I shall surely do that, and have loaf bread besides. I wonder if you couldn't wait on the table?"
"Of course I can. That was what I did on board the 'Atlanta.'"
"Then we shall get along famously. Now help me clear off one end of this table, and I'll begin work."
The little woman at once set about the task of preparing food for the members of the sewing circle, and nothing was done without first asking Jack's advice.
Chapter XIII.
THE SEWING CIRCLE.
So deeply engrossed was Aunt Nancy in the work of making ready for the supper, that the indignities offered Louis by Bill Dean and his partners passed almost unheeded for the time being.
It is true that now and then she would speak of what had been done, announcing her intention of complaining again to Bill's father; but the words would hardly be spoken before something in the culinary line demanded her attention, and the subject would be dropped until a more convenient season.
Jack labored most industriously, beating eggs, sifting flour, washing pans, and keeping the fire roaring, thus doing his full share in the important preparations.
Louis was forced to remain in the kitchen, despite his great desire to get out of doors; and both Jack and the little woman kept strict watch over him, but happily ignorant of the fact that hidden within the friendly shelter of the alder-bushes were Bill Dean and his chums watching another opportunity to get hold of the baby as before.
"The sewin' circle is goin' over to old Nancy's termorrer," Bill said in a whisper, "an' we won't be smart if we don't get a chance to square off with Hunchie."
"What do you count on doin'?" Sam Phinney asked.
"That's jest what we've got to fix up. The old woman will have her hands full of company, an' it seems as if we might rig somethin' that'll pay. Hunchie won't show himself outside the place, for he knows we're layin' for him, an' our only show is to sneak in while the supper is goin' on."
"We can easy get in the shed an' wait for something to turn up," Jip Lewis suggested; and the others thought this a very good idea.
"I'll cook up somethin' between now an' then," Bill said confidently. "There ain't much chance they'll let that youngster out ag'in, so come, go over on the hill an' see what the fellers there are doin'."
This had the effect of causing the party to adjourn without anything having been accomplished save an agreement between the three that, during the meeting of the sewing circle something should be done toward settling matters with the boy who insisted upon remaining in town after they had warned him to leave.
During the remainder of the day Aunt Nancy and Jack worked without ceasing in the kitchen, and when night came the arrangements for the company were so nearly completed that the little woman said with a sigh of relief when she and her crooked-assistant were resting under the old oak,—
"I declare, Jack dear, it is surprising how much we have done since noon! I never could have gotten through without you, and don't understand what I did before you came."
"I wish I could do more. It doesn't seem as if I worked half hard enough to pay for what you've done to help Louis an' me."
"Bless you, child, I'd be paid a dozen times over if I had nothing more than your company; and as for work, why, you've done twice as much as Daniel Chick's daughter would in the same time, and I should have paid her fifty cents, at least, if you hadn't been here."
"It doesn't seem very much anyhow; but if you're satisfied, why that settles it, of course. I wonder if Bill Dean's crowd will try to get hold of Louis again?"
"Not after I've seen his father, and that's just what I intend to do when the circle meetin' is over. We had better get old crumple-horn in the yard now so we can go to bed early, for I count on being at work by sunrise to-morrow."
The chores were quickly done, the house searched once more for possible intruders, the evening devotions concluded, and Jack went to his tiny room happy in the thought that he had been of considerable assistance to Aunt Nancy.
The finishing touches were completed by noon on the following day, and the little woman was arrayed in all her antiquated finery to receive the expected guests.
Jack had only the suit of clothes he had worn at the time of leaving the "Atlanta," consequently very little could be done on his part toward "dressing up"; but his face shone from repeated applications of soap and water, his hair was combed until every portion of it looked as if it had been fastened in place, and his shoes had a very high polish.
Louis's white frock had been washed and ironed, therefore he was, as Aunt Nancy expressed it, "in apple-pie order, and as pretty a baby as ever came into Maine."
"I suppose we shall have to put some of the horses in the stable, Jack dear, for a good many of the people will ride, and the question is whether you could unharness them?" Aunt Nancy said as she sat in the "fore-room" awaiting the coming of the guests.
"I never did such a thing; but it can't be hard if a feller watches how the harness comes off."
"You are smart enough to do almost anything. I'm certain there won't be trouble," Aunt Nancy said in a tone of conviction, and then the rumble of wheels on the lane told that the first of the "company" was coming.
The newcomer was Mrs. Souders, who drove a horse Jack felt confident he could unharness; and as she alighted he stood by the head of the venerable animal as he had seen regular grooms do in the city.
From that time until nearly three o'clock the hunchback was kept very busy attending to the stable work.
Not less than ten horses were driven into the yard, and he was expected to put them in a barn where were but two stalls, including the one it would be necessary to reserve for old crumple-horn.
It was some time before he could solve the problem, but it was finally done by hitching several to the fence outside, and standing the remainder on the thrashing-floor.
The matter of harness and carriages troubled him considerably; but he believed the owners of the same would be able to recognize their property, therefore no attempt was made to keep them in regular order.
When the visitors ceased to arrive, and Aunt Nancy told him she did not think any more were coming, he went to the pump for a thorough wash, and while thus engaged heard a certain portion of the conversation which came from the "fore-room" where the members of the circle were supposed to be working very hard to relieve the poor and distressed by supplying them with garments, each fashioned according to the fancy of its maker.
Not for a moment would Jack have thought of deliberately playing the part of eavesdropper; but hearing reference made to Louis and himself, it was only natural he should linger longer than was absolutely necessary.
Mrs. Souders was speaking when he first came near the house, and he heard her say quite sharply,—
"Why, Nancy Curtis, are you thinkin' of adoptin' a couple of children at your time of life, an' one of 'em a worthless cripple that'll always be a bill of expense? It seems as if you'd lived long enough in the world to be more sensible."
"I'd like to know, Sarah Souders, why you think Jack is 'worthless'?" the little woman asked in a tone of indignation.
"Because he can't be anything else. A hunchback isn't any better than a reg'lar invalid, an' besides I've always heard it said they are terribly conceited."
"Then this one is an exception. I never had a girl on the farm that helped me as much as he does, and as for the baby—"
"That's it exactly," Mrs. Souders interrupted. "It seems that the cripple isn't enough, but you are determined to make your cross heavier by taking care of a baby, when it would be better to think of restin' your old bones."
"If it is a pleasure to me, it would seem as if nothing should be said against it," Aunt Nancy replied mildly. "I only wish it might be possible for me to keep the little fellow as long as I live."
Then Jack heard that which told him Aunt Nancy was kissing the baby, and he said to himself,—
"If these people think Aunt Nancy has no business to keep me here, I s'pose they are right, an' I oughter go away."
"Of course you've the privilege of doing as you please, Nancy Curtis," Mrs. Souders continued, "but I must maintain that it is wrong for you to be obliged to support two helpless children when it is hard work to make both ends meet. I am only sayin' this for your own good, Nancy, an' both Mrs. Hayes an' myself decided it was the duty of some one to talk with you about it."
The little woman made no reply to this, and Jack was forced to leave the pump, since his toilet had been completed.
"They've made her believe it," he said to himself as the tears would persist in coming into his eyes, "an' it's my place to tell her I'll go. Then she won't have any more trouble with Bill Dean's crowd."
He firmly believed it was necessary he and Louis should leave the farm, and the knowledge that Aunt Nancy depended upon him during this day, at least, was a positive pleasure.
It had been agreed he should wait upon the table.
Such dishes as could not well remain on the overladen board were to be left in the small summer kitchen, and the little woman had arranged a system of signals by which he could understand what she wanted.
Although it was yet too soon for supper, he went to his post of duty in order to be ready at the earliest moment Aunt Nancy should require his services, and there stayed, thinking mournfully of what he had heard.
In the mean while the stable was unguarded, for Jack had no idea danger was to be apprehended from that quarter, and at about the same time he entered the kitchen, Bill Dean said to his companions who had followed him into the shed,—
"I did have a plan for some fun, fellers; but now there's a bigger show than we ever struck. I don't reckon Hunchie knows very much about harnessin' horses, an' even if he does we'll set him wild."
"How?" Sam asked in a whisper.
"It ain't likely anybody will go out to the barn till after supper, is it?"
"Of course not."
"Then all we've got to do is to sneak around back of the stable. I know how to get in from there, an' we'll mix them harnesses up in sich shape that even Mike Crane himself couldn't put 'em together in less'n one day."
"You're a brick, Bill, at fixin' things. Let's hurry, for it'll take quite awhile."
With decidedly more care than was necessary, the conspirators crept out of the shed, and, going around by the rear of the buildings, entered the barn where Jack had left the harness.
There was not one in the party who would not have grumbled loud and long had he been obliged to work as rapidly and hard as was necessary in order to effect their purpose; but since it was mischief instead of useful labor, neither so much as dreamed of complaining.
The harness belonging to the teams driven by Mrs. Souders and Mrs. Hayes received the greater portion of their attention.
On them nearly every strap was shortened or lengthened, and other parts interchanged, until one not thoroughly familiar with both could hardly have recognized the original set.
Each in turn was overhauled, and when the mischief-makers left the barn there was no question but that Jack would have great difficulty in untangling the snarl, even if he should ever be able to do so.
"I reckon that will make all hands mad, an' Hunchie's the one who is bound to get the blame," Bill said with a chuckle of satisfaction as they stood for an instant at the rear of the barn. "Now where'll we stay to watch the fun?"
"Out by the cow-yard. The grass is so tall nobody'll ever see us."
This appeared to be a good idea, and the three adopted it at once, although all believed it must be several hours before Jack would be called upon to harness the horses.
In the kitchen the deformed boy, with a heart so heavy it seemed as if he could never smile again, waited patiently until a bustle from the "fore-room" told that the guests were making preparations to discuss Aunt Nancy's supper.
"They are getting ready to come," the little woman said excitedly, as she entered the kitchen hurriedly. "Help me fill these plates with biscuit, and then cover the rest over and leave them in the oven till they are needed. I was afraid I should have bad luck with my bread; but it seems to be all right."
"Them biscuit couldn't be better if the Queen of England had made 'em," Jack replied emphatically.
"I'm sure I don't know what kind of a bread maker she may be; but I wouldn't like to have it said that even a queen could do better than I, taking it the whole year through, an' allowing for the trouble that yeast will sometimes cause."
Aunt Nancy was ready to go into the main kitchen, which on this occasion had been converted into a dining-room, and Jack followed close behind with his hands full of plates.
It so chanced that the guests had not waited to be summoned, but came from the "fore-room" under the pretence of assisting the little woman, and Jack, who was walking quite rapidly, intent only on carrying the dishes without accident, ran directly into Mrs. Souders.
That lady had never been celebrated for curbing her temper, and to-day she appeared to be in a very ill-humor, probably because of something which may have been said by her friends in the "fore-room."
Therefore, instead of treating the matter as an accident, and acknowledging she had no business to be standing in the way of those who were working, she wheeled suddenly and gave the cripple a resounding blow on the ear, which sent him headlong, scattering plates and biscuit in every direction.
"You little beggar!" she screamed, as her face grew crimson with rage. "I didn't come here to have any of your low tricks played on me. If Nancy Curtis hasn't got spirit enough to give you a lesson, I'll do it myself."
She stepped quickly toward poor Jack, who stood silent and motionless surveying the wreck of Aunt Nancy's best crockery, never for a moment thinking the guest had any idea of inflicting further punishment, and seized him by the coat collar.
Jack involuntarily threw up his arm to ward off the blow; but the heavy hand descended twice in rapid succession, and then it was grasped from behind as the little woman's voice, trembling with suppressed rage, was heard,—
"Sarah Souders, aren't you ashamed to strike a cripple?"
"Indeed I'm not when it is one like this, whose place is at the poor farm rather than in decent people's houses"; and the lady would have repeated the blow but for the fact that Aunt Nancy clung to her with nervous desperation.
"Don't you dare strike that child again, Sarah Souders!" she cried. "I am trying hard to rule my spirit, but the struggle may be too much for my strength, and then I shall say that which would make me sorry afterward."
"You should be sorry now when you reject the advice of your best friends," Mrs. Souders replied; but she released her hold of Jack's collar, and he began gathering up the fragments of crockery and bread.
"If you mean that I ought to throw these children, who have made my life happier than it has been for many years, out on to a world of such hard-hearted people as you, then it is time you tried to understand the meaning of the word 'charity,'" the little woman said with a slight tremor of the voice as she stepped back a few paces from her angry guest. "The fault was yours, so far as his running into you was concerned. He was doing his work, and you were in his way."
"I didn't suppose your foolishness had gone so far that you would uphold the crooked little beggar when he deliberately insults one who has been your best friend."
"He had no intention of insulting you, and I do not want him called a beggar, for he isn't. Even though he was, I have yet to learn that poverty is a crime."
"I see plainly this is no place for me. The most you can do now is to turn me out of doors."
"I do not wish to do anything of the kind, but feel called upon to advise that you think the matter over before speaking again."
"That is sufficient, Nancy Curtis, quite sufficient. Jane Hayes, will you go with me, or do you prefer to remain?"
"I shall stay here," Mrs. Hayes replied; and with a fling of her skirts, which was probably intended to express both indignation and injury received, Mrs. Souders sailed out of the room.
Chapter XIV.
AFTER THE STORM.
Jack who had gathered up the fragments and swept the crumbs from the floor, now looked about him in alarm.
The sense of having been wrongly treated was overpowered by the thought that he was the cause, however innocent, of plunging Aunt Nancy into new troubles.
It seemed just then as if he was pursued by some unkind fate which brought to him and those who befriended him all manner of misfortune.
During fully a minute after Mrs. Souders drifted so majestically from the room, not a word was spoken.
Aunt Nancy stood leaning against the table, a vivid red spot glowing on either cheek, and holding her hand over her heart as if to repress its beatings.
The guests gathered around her, each trying at the same time to express her opinion of what had occurred,—a proceeding which resulted only in a perfect Babel of confusion.
The little woman soon recovered her composure sufficiently to remember her duties as hostess, and said to Jack in a low tone,—
"Do you think you can harness Mrs. Souders's horse? We mustn't forget the courtesy we owe a guest, no matter what has happened."
"I can do it if she will show me which wagon an' harness is hers. You see there were so many teams comin' all at once I couldn't keep run of 'em."
"Go out and do the best you can. Very likely she will be at the stable by the time you get there."
Jack hurried away feeling rather uncertain as to what the result would be when he was alone with the angry woman, but determined to remain silent whatever she might say.
On reaching the barn he had but little difficulty in deciding upon the carriage he believed belonged to Mrs. Souders, and was backing it into the yard when that lady arrived.
"Are you so stupid that you can't tell one wagon from another?" she asked sharply.
"Isn't this yours, ma'am?"
"No, it isn't, and you know as well as I do."
"I never saw it but once, an' that was when there were a good many here. If you'll pick it out, an' show me the harness, I'll soon have the horse hitched up."
"I suppose Nancy Curtis told you to get rid of me as soon as possible; what you did in the dining-room wasn't enough, eh?"
"Indeed she didn't; an', if you please, ma'am, I couldn't tell where you was goin' to step when I had my arms full of dishes."
"You needn't talk to me. If Nancy Curtis is fool enough to put you above your place, it's no reason why you should think others haven't good sense. That is my carriage, and the sooner it is ready the better I'll be pleased."
Jack wheeled out the vehicle she designated, and then asked,—
"Now will you tell me which is your harness an' horse?"
"You're a bigger fool than I took you to be," was the reply, as the lady rushed like a small-sized tornado into the barn, and, after some difficulty, succeeded in finding the animal, which was hitched with the others on the thrashing-floor. "Couldn't even find a stall for him! I don't know what's come over Nancy Curtis since you brats arrived at this place!"
Then she examined the pile of harness, expressing her opinion very forcibly because Jack had laid them on the floor instead of hanging each set on pegs; but to find her own was more than she could do.
"Take any one of them," she finally said in an angry tone, wiping the perspiration from her flushed face.
Jack obeyed without a word, but, thanks to the efforts of Bill Dean and his partners, neither he nor Mrs. Souders could gear the horse.
One set of harness was much too large, and another so small a goat could hardly have worn it, while all were strapped together in the oddest fashion.
This Mrs. Souders believed was owing to Jack's carelessness or ignorance while unharnessing the horses, and the more she struggled to fit one without regard to ownership the greater became her anger, until it was almost beyond bounds.
"My husband shall hear of this," she said wrathfully. "Put that horse right back, and he will come over to undo your wicked tricks. Don't speak to me, you little pauper," she cried as the cripple was about to reply; and dealing him a blow on the ear which sent him reeling against the animal, the lady walked rapidly out of the barn.
Jack rubbed the injured member an instant, looked about ruefully, wondering what could have happened to the harness, led the horse back to his place, and went out of the barn just in time to see Mrs. Souders sailing around the corner of the lane into the main road.
He walked slowly to the house, arriving there as the guests had seated themselves at the table, and Aunt Nancy, who looked as if she had been crying, asked,—
"Why didn't Mrs. Souders go with her team?"
Jack told the story of the bewitched harness, adding in conclusion,—
"I took every piece off as carefully as I knew how, and laid them on the floor, because there wasn't any pegs or nails to hang them on. Now it seems like as if nothing was right, an' in the whole lot we couldn't find a single thing which would fit."
The guests looked at each other in surprise and alarm, probably thinking if Mrs. Souders didn't succeed in getting her team with the entire collection to choose from, their chances of leaving Aunt Nancy's save by walking were exceedingly slim.
A flood of questions were poured forth on the hapless Jack, who could only repeat his former statement.
The matter was now becoming so serious that Aunt Nancy's inviting meal no longer had sufficient charms to command their attention, and the entire party insisted on visiting the barn at once to ascertain for themselves the true condition of affairs.
With the baby in her arms, Aunt Nancy led the way.
Bill Dean and his friends, seeing the procession coming, were not at a loss to divine the meaning of this sudden exodus from the house.
"This is gettin' too hot for us," Bill said in a whisper. "With all them old women around we'll be found for certain, an' the quicker we skin out of here the safer we'll be."
His partners were of the same opinion, only a trifle more frightened, and their terror caused them to do a very foolish thing.
Instead of crawling under shelter of the grass until they were at a safe distance, Sam and Jip leaped to their feet, running at full speed toward the road.
As a matter of course Bill was bound to follow the example, thinking how pleased he would be to have his hands on Jip for a single moment in order to punish him for his cowardice, and thus the conspirators stood revealed.
"I think we can understand now what has happened to the harness," Mrs. Hayes said as she pointed towards the fugitives, "and I for one say it's time that Dean boy was made to believe it is dangerous to play such tricks."
The red spots came on Aunt Nancy's cheeks again as she gazed after the retreating figures, and from the nervous working of her fingers Jack understood she was using every effort to "rule her spirit."
As she stood silent and motionless, heeding not the fact that Louis was pulling her ringlets out of shape, some of the other ladies continued on to the barn, and a single glance at the mismated harness convinced them it was useless to attempt straightening matters.
"It is foolish to stand here while the biscuit are getting cold," Mrs. Hayes finally said. "Let us go and get supper, after which there will be plenty of time to think over what should be done."
The majority of the party shared this opinion, and Aunt Nancy was literally led back to her own home, while the guests divided their attention between the bountiful supper and a discussion as to how Bill Dean and his associates could best be suppressed.
None of the party had had more than three cups of tea when Mr. Souders arrived looking very warm because of his long walk, and decidedly angry in consequence of the report made by his wife.
He first demanded an interview with Jack, who was sitting in the kitchen fully occupied with his mournful thoughts; but when the ladies began to explain matters relative to the mischief done, he could not but believe the hunchback was innocent of the charges brought against him by Mrs. Souders.
"I'll take Bill Dean in hand myself," he said with an ominous gesture. "There is plenty of time for that; but I reckon fixing things in the barn will last longer. Can you lend me the cripple for a while, Aunt Nancy?"
The little woman called Jack, explained that he was to assist the gentleman, and as the two went toward the barn she said feelingly,—
"It makes very little difference what people may say, although I would rather have the good will of a dog than his ill will; but if I can prevent it that boy shall not leave this farm unless relatives come forward to claim him."
Several united with Aunt Nancy in praising Jack, and since the others remained silent there was no opportunity for a disagreeable argument.
It did not require many seconds for Mr. Souders to see that the harness had been tampered with, and he said in a cheery tone, which was a delightful contrast to the one used a short time previous by his wife, as he pulled off his coat,—
"I reckon you an' I have a big contract ahead of us, my boy. It would puzzle a lawyer to fix all these as they should be, and the most we can hope for is to put the sets together so the old women may go home. We'll begin with mine, an' see what can be made of the job."
It was a long and tedious task, and before it had been half completed Jack was so well pleased with the gentleman that he said confidentially,—
"Mr. Souders, I don't want you to think I tried to insult your wife. It was an accident which I couldn't prevent, an' you see for yourself I wasn't to blame for this muss."
"Don't worry about it, my boy. Mother is a leetle hot-headed with a powerful dislike to youngsters 'cause she hain't got any of her own; but I'll venter to say she's sorry as a cat this very minute for what's been said an' done. If you knowed her little ways you wouldn't mind anything about it; but I'm put out to think she laid her hands on a poor cripple like you."
"It wasn't that which made me feel so bad as to have her think I would act mean."
"She don't believe a word of what she said by this time, an' for that I'll go bail. There's no use talkin' 'bout it now; I allow you'll see her ag'in mighty soon. Have you been havin' a great deal of trouble with Bill Dean?"
Jack was not disposed to tell very much lest it should be thought he was complaining; but Mr. Souders finally succeeded in drawing from him a full account of the threats made.
"You sha'n't be troubled any more, my boy, that I'll answer for. Bill is pretty wild, but I reckon we can tame him down a bit before another day goes by."
"I wouldn't like any of the fellows to say I'd been carryin' tales, sir."
"Neither have you. Aunt Nancy's life is bein' worried pretty nigh out of her, an' that's enough to give me a right to interfere."
Jack did not think it proper to tell anything more regarding his experiences with the village boys, and, as a matter of fact, would have preferred saying nothing whatever to Mr. Souders until he had talked with Aunt Nancy.
Before the gentleman left the barn he so far sorted out the harness that it was possible to gear up his own team, and Jack thought best to get each one ready while he had the opportunity to call upon such a valuable assistant.
When the two returned to the house the supper was ended, and one of the ladies held Louis in her arms while Aunt Nancy and several of the guests washed the dishes.
Then Jack milked old crumple-horn, and when the last of the visitors departed all of the chores had been done, therefore nothing prevented he and Aunt Nancy from discussing the events of the day.
"I can't say I'm sorry William Dean cut up as he did," the little woman said, "for it has given Mr. Souders a chance to see what he really would do, and there is reason to believe the boy will be obliged to mend his ways."
Jack had very little interest in Bill Dean at that moment.
He was thinking only of the conversation he heard from the "fore-room," and had determined the matter should be settled finally before he retired.
"It seems as if most of the folks think I oughtn't to stay here makin' you feed me," he began.
"Bless my soul, what has put that idea into your head, my child?"
"I heard what Mrs. Souders said in the front-room before supper."
Aunt Nancy looked around quickly as a shade of displeasure passed over her face.
"I'm sorry you did hear it, Jack dear; but you must not be so foolish as to let it worry you. I am old enough to attend to my own affairs, and, even if I wasn't, Sarah Souders is not the one to whom I should go for advice."
"But, Aunt Nancy, my being here makes trouble for you with your neighbors, and I have been thinking it would be better for Louis an' I to go away at once."
"Your being here has very little to do with the trouble I may have. It is my own wicked self. I began by telling a lie to that man from Scarborough, and one sin surely leads to others. You are of great assistance to me, and I should be more sorry than I can say if you went away."
Jack was about to make some reply, but before the words could be spoken, Aunt Nancy checked him by laying her hand on his shoulder as she said,—
"Don't argue the matter, Jack dear. We are all tired enough to go to bed, and we'll make ready by searching the house again. After what has happened since noon it wouldn't surprise me the least little mite, if we found half a dozen burglars in hiding."
Chapter XV.
BROTHER ABNER.
When Jack retired on this night he was far from feeling comfortable in mind.
Aunt Nancy had literally obliged him to cease speaking of the matter, and during the evening devotions prayed so fervently that she might be forgiven for acting a lie, it really distressed him.
She had done it solely for him, and he felt personally responsible for her mental trouble.
It caused the little woman great anxiety as he could well understand from the fact that she referred to the subject very frequently, and never ceased to sue for pardon.
As has been said, Jack did not think the little woman did any great wrong; but since she believed it, the case was as serious to her as if a deadly crime had been committed.
He remained awake a long while trying to decide what should be done, and more than once was he tempted to run the risk of calling upon Farmer Pratt to explain all the circumstances, in order to relieve Aunt Nancy's mind.
To do this would be, as he firmly thought, neither more nor less than voluntarily condemning himself to the poor farm; but Louis would be safe from the ignominy, and he would be doing the little woman a very great favor.
He had decided upon nothing when sleep visited his eyelids, and on the following morning there was so much to be done around the house he could not find any opportunity to study the subject.
Aunt Nancy believed it necessary to clean nearly every portion of the house, and as a matter of course he assisted.
Louis was really neglected on this day. Having been allowed to play on the floor to his heart's content, neither his crooked guardian nor Aunt Nancy paid very much attention to him.
Not until late in the afternoon was the labor brought to a close, and then the tired ones sought rest under the big oak.
Jack was about to broach the subject which occupied the greater portion of his thoughts, when the rumble of wheels at the end of the lane caused him to look up in alarm.
"Who is that?" he asked excitedly, fearing lest it might be a messenger from Farmer Pratt.
"Only Deacon Downs. He sometimes stops on his way home from Treat's store to see if anything is needed. I buy a good many vegetables of him."
On this occasion the deacon had not called for any such purpose.
He reined in his horse near where Aunt Nancy was sitting, and, refusing her invitation to "get out and visit," unbuttoned his coat in a deliberate manner, saying slowly as he did so,—
"I found this 'ere for you down to Treat's, an' kinder 'lowed you'd be wantin' it."
Then fully a moment more was spent before the article referred to was produced, and, meanwhile, Aunt Nancy was in a mild state of excitement through curiosity.
"Something for me? What is it, Deacon?"
"Wait till I find the pesky thing. I put it in this pocket so there shouldn't be any chance of losin' it, an' now I wouldn't be surprised if it had slipped out."
Aunt Nancy came close to the wagon watching the old gentleman's every movement, her face expressing the liveliest impatience; but the visitor did not gratify her curiosity until having found that for which he sought.
"Here it is," he said, as he handed her a letter, "an' seein's how it's stamped Binghamton, I wouldn't be surprised if it was from Abner, for I don't reckon you know anybody but him in York State, Nancy?"
"Of course it's from Abner, and you gave me almost a shock, Deacon, for I couldn't imagine what you had found of mine."
"I don't allow there's any bad news, eh?" and the visitor waited as if expecting Aunt Nancy would open the letter at once.
"It's only in regard to some business, Deacon," the little woman replied in a tone which told she did not intend to read the missive until she should be alone.
"I don't reckon he's thinkin' of comin' here this summer?"
"Dear me, no. Abner's getting too old to go gallivantin' 'round the country very much, an' it's a powerful long journey from here to York State."
"You're right, Nancy; but you know Abner allers was a master hand at travellin'."
Then the deacon, despairing of getting a glimpse of the letter, urged the aged horse into a slow trot, and the occupants of the Curtis farm were alone once more.
"The deacon is a real obliging neighbor," Aunt Nancy said as the rumble of wheels died away in the distance, "but terribly inquisitive. He thought I would read Abner's letter so he'd know what was going on, and perhaps I might have done so if it hadn't been concerning your business, which should be kept to ourselves."
"Do you s'pose he has found out anything about Louis's father?" Jack asked, eager to learn the contents of the letter, but not feeling at liberty to hurry the little woman.
"I don't think there is any doubt about it"; and Aunt Nancy tore open the envelope with a slowness and deliberation which was almost provoking.
During the next five minutes Jack waited impatiently to hear "brother Abner's" reply; but nothing was said until the letter had been read carefully twice over, and then Aunt Nancy exclaimed as she took off her spectacles,—
"Well, I declare!"
"Does he know the captain?"
"He's never heard of him! It's so surprising when I think of how many people he used to be acquainted with when he lived here."
"Nothing of any consequence, and writes as if he was provoked because I asked the question. Wants to know how I suppose he can find a man who was exploded in a vessel at sea; and I can't say but there is considerable good sense in his asking that, for of course when the ship blowed to pieces that settled the whole thing."
"But the captain might have been saved, and, besides, while we were in sight the 'Atlanta' looked whole and sound as before the explosion."
"But if she didn't go to pieces why hasn't the captain come after his son?"
This was a question which Jack could not answer, and had to remain silent.
"According to Abner's story, he don't know many of the York State folks except them as lives in Binghamton. Perhaps he's settling down, and isn't as newsy as when he was with me."
"If he can't help us, what are Louis an' I to do?"
"Stay here, of course."
"But, Aunt Nancy, I must try to find Louis's relations, even if his father and mother are dead."
"I reckon you're bound to do that somehow; but there's no sense in trying to walk to New York while the weather is so hot."
Then the little woman, as if believing the matter had been finally settled, began to speak of the subject which was very near her heart, and for at least the hundredth time Jack was forced to listen to her lamentations because of the equivocation when Farmer Pratt called.
It was particularly hard for him to remain quiet during her self-accusations, for now that it was useless to expect "brother Abner" could do anything in the way of learning the details concerning the fate of the good ship "Atlanta," it seemed in the highest degree important to decide upon some course of action.
He was well content to stay where he was a certain time; but it seemed as if he should have at least some idea of what was to be done in the future.
Aunt Nancy did not give him an opportunity to discuss the matter, however, and when the hour came to search the house for supposed burglars he was in a fine state of perplexity.
On the following morning it seemed as if the little woman had dismissed all such thoughts from her mind, for whenever she spoke to Jack it was upon anything rather than how he might best accomplish that which he believed to be his duty.
He noticed she was particularly tender toward Louis, and gave him an unusual amount of attention when she thought he and she were alone.
It was on this day Mrs. Souders called, and during fully half an hour was closeted with Aunt Nancy, after which she met Jack in the yard when her greeting was more than cordial, but never a word was spoken in reference to the incidents of the day she allowed anger to overcome judgment.
Since Jack had not expected anything in the way of an apology, he was agreeably surprised by the change in her manner toward him, and felt that ample reparation had been made.
What the lady may have said to Aunt Nancy will never be known, for the little woman maintained the most perfect secrecy regarding it, despite the fact that Jack questioned her as closely as he dared.
It was on the evening of this day when they were sitting under the old oak, and Louis was playing in front of them, that Bill Dean walked boldly into the yard, accosting Aunt Nancy as if he and she were on the most friendly terms.
Jack was so thoroughly surprised that he experienced the sensation of one who has suddenly been plunged into cold water, for the assurance of the boy was more than he could understand until Master Dean handed Aunt Nancy a printed circular, as he said,—
"I've been hired to carry these around, an' I know you allers go to camp meetin', so I stopped here first. I s'pose you think I'm kinder tough; but them as come here lookin' for jobs without wantin' to work ain't so good as you believe they are."
"I don't intend to argue with you, William; but you know very well I have good reason to feel harsh toward you."
"Why, what have I done?" and Bill looked as innocent as a lamb.
"It would be better if you asked what you haven't done," and the little woman spoke in the most severe tone. "In the first place you drove away a well-disposed boy last summer, and are now trying to do the same by poor little crippled Jack."
"I don't see how you can say sich a thing, Aunt Nancy"; and Bill assumed an injured expression.
"Didn't you mix up the harness when the circle met here, and didn't you try to drown the baby?"
"Me drown a baby?" Bill cried in a horrified tone.
"Yes, it was you and your friends who carried him to the duck pond and set him adrift on a raft."
"Now, Aunt Nancy, it ain't right to talk agin me in this way"; and a stranger would have said that Bill was on the point of crying.
"Why, William Dean, I saw you running away!"
"I ain't sayin' you didn't; but that's nothin' to do with the baby. When I came across the field he was at the pond, an' I didn't know what he might do to my raft. Before I got up to him he was sailin' like all possessed, an' when you came I run away for fear you'd want me to wade in after him."
Aunt Nancy's eyes opened wide in astonishment at this marvellous story, and while she felt convinced it was false, she would not accuse him of telling a lie without having something in the way of evidence against him.
"At least I know you fought with Jack because he wouldn't promise to go away," she said after quite a long pause.
Louis's guardian tried to prevent this last remark by a look, but was unsuccessful, and Bill replied boldly,—
"There ain't any use sayin' I didn't, 'cause it's true; but us fellers only was doin' what we had a right."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Why, we've got a license from the s'lectmen to do all the chores 'round this neighborhood, an' had to pay a mighty big price for it. Do you s'pose we'll let any other fellers come in an' take the bread an' butter outer our mouths after we've scraped the cash together to pay the town tax for that kind of business?"
This statement was rather more than even Aunt Nancy could credit, and she said quite sharply,—
"William Dean, I won't have you standing there telling such wrong stories! You must think I'm a natural born idiot to listen."
"It's the truth all the same, and if Hunchie don't clear out he won't get along very easy. Good by, Aunt Nancy, I s'pose I'll see you at camp meetin', for all the old maids will be there."
Bill did not linger in the lane after this last remark, but went quickly out into the highway, leaving the little woman literally gasping with surprise and indignation.
"It's no disgrace to be an old maid," she said when it was once more possible for her to speak; "but I won't have an impudent boy like William Dean throwing it in my face as if it was something to be ashamed about."
"I wouldn't pay any 'tention to him," Jack replied consolingly. "You're nicer than any woman I ever saw, an' he'd be only too glad if you was as much of a friend to him as you are to me."
Aunt Nancy leaned over and kissed the little cripple on the forehead as she said in a low tone,—
"You are a good boy, Jack dear, and would be a great comfort to me if we were never to part until the good God calls me home."
Chapter XVI.
A HURRIED DEPARTURE.
It was not until the following morning that Aunt Nancy paid any particular attention to the circular regarding camp meeting which Bill Dean had brought.
Then, as Jack came in from milking, she said with a suddenness which caused the boy to start in surprise,—
"I have been thinking about the camp meeting. What is your opinion?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"You remember the paper which William Dean brought last night?"
"Yes."
"Well, it was the time-table of the trains which run to the grounds. Somehow your coming upset me so I had forgotten all about the meeting, and if I should miss it, it would be the first time since I was quite a young girl."
"When does it begin?"
"Why don't you go? I can stay here an' take care of crumple-horn and Louis well enough."
"Bless you, child, I wouldn't think of leaving you alone three or four days."
"Would you be gone as long as that?"
"A great many stay the whole week, and I did one year; but it was almost too tedious."
"Well, both of us couldn't be away at the same time, an'—"
"Why not?"
"Because the cow must be milked an' put in the barn."
"Daniel Chick's daughters have always done that for me, and would again."
"But what about Louis?"
"I have been wondering whether I couldn't take him with me."
"It would be terrible hard work to lug a baby 'round all the time."
"If you went I should be relieved of the greater portion of that care."
"It seems as if you had pretty nigh made up your mind already."
"There is only one thing which prevents me, and I can't figure it out," the little woman said with an air of anxiety.
"What is it?" Jack asked in surprise.
"I don't know that it is prudent to spare the money. You see it won't be long now before the summer boarders come, and it costs a great deal to get ready for them."
Jack could make no reply. This was a question about which he was ignorant, and there was a certain hesitation on his part regarding the discussion of such a subject when he could do nothing to forward the matter by pecuniary aid.
No more was said until after breakfast, when Mrs. Hayes came in, looking excited and breathless.
"Haven't you done anything about going to camp meeting, Nancy Curtis?" she cried, as she swung the big rocking-chair around and would have sat on Louis had not Jack called her attention to the fact by pulling the baby from his dangerous position.
"I was just speaking about it, but don't know as I shall go."
"But you must, Nancy. The children can stay at my house."
"If I went they would go with me," the little woman replied, in a tone which told she was not willing to discuss that question.
"Very well, there is nothing to prevent. Daniel Chick will take his big tent, and he says you're welcome to use as much of it as you want."
"He is very good, I'm sure."
"And you'll go, of course? It wouldn't seem like a camp meeting if you wasn't there; and, besides, we always look to you for the coffee. Deacon Downs says it's one of the pleasures of the week to drink Aunt Nancy's Mocha."
"I do try to get the best, and when that has been done any one can make it good," the little woman said as her withered cheeks flushed with pleasure at the compliment, while never for a moment did she fancy this praise might have been given only that she should supply the occupants of the tent with their morning beverage.
"Then it is settled, you will go?" and Mrs. Hayes arose to her feet. "I can't stop a minute, but felt I must run over to find out if you'd begun preparations."
"I haven't, and whether you see me there or not depends. I will let you know to-morrow."
"But you must go, because we won't take no for an answer."
Aunt Nancy shook her head as if to say the matter was very uncertain, and the visitor took her departure, insisting that the townspeople "couldn't get along without their coffee maker."
"I'm sure I don't know what to do," the little woman said with a long-drawn sigh when she and Jack were alone.
"If you haven't money enough, why not leave me an' Louis here alone? I'll be awful careful with the house, an' there can't any accident happen."
"I'm not afraid to trust you, Jack dear; but as I told Mrs. Hayes, it isn't to be thought of for a minute."
"Ain't there some way I might earn the money?"
"Bless you, no, child. Even if I was willing you should do such a thing, there isn't any time. The most expensive part of it is that I have always furnished the coffee for all in the tent, and it does take a powerful lot to go around. Why, Deacon Downs himself can drink three cups of a morning, an' then look around sort of wishfully for another. I always give it to him, too, if there's enough left in the pot."
Jack felt very badly because he could do nothing toward helping the little woman out of her difficulty, while Louis laughed and crowed as if he thought the whole affair decidedly comical.
Aunt Nancy bustled around the house performing a great deal of unnecessary work, her forehead knitted into a frown which showed she was thinking the matter over in the most serious fashion, and Jack watched her every movement.
Finally the problem was solved, for her face lighted up as, taking Louis in her arms and seating herself in the rocking-chair, she said cheerily,—
"I don't think William Dean would attempt to make trouble for you now, Jack dear."
"Neither do I. Mr. Souders probably scolded him for mixin' up the harness, and he won't bother me."
"Do you feel quite certain of that?"
"Indeed I do."
"Then would it be too much of a walk for you to go to Treat's store?"
"Of course it wouldn't, Aunt Nancy. You've only to say the word, an' I'll be off like a shot."
Jack had seized his hat as he spoke, and appeared to be on the point of rushing away without waiting for the message, when she stopped him by saying,—
"There's no need of such haste. It will take me some time to fix the errand so you can do it. Last season Daniel Chick farmed the back field for me on shares, and I have quite a lot of wheat on hand. Mr. Treat wanted to buy it, and now I'm going to accept his offer. In case he still wants it, you must bring back some things from the store."
"Am I to get the coffee?"
"No, that would be too large a bundle. I'll write Mr. Treat a letter, and the remainder of the business you can arrange."
Jack was delighted at being able to do something toward settling the vexed question, and waited very impatiently for the little woman to make her preparations.
This was quite a long task because a letter was to be written, and after that a list of articles prepared; but finally Aunt Nancy completed the work, and Jack set off at full speed with a generous supply of bread and butter in a neatly tied parcel.
He returned before she fancied he could have more than gotten there, and brought with him the goods required.
"Mr. Treat says he'll tell Daniel Chick to haul the wheat, and you shall know how much there is as soon as it can be weighed. If you want anything more you shall send for it."
"Did he say I could have some money?" Aunt Nancy asked anxiously.
"He told me to tell you to call on for cash or goods up to thirty dollars, for he was certain it would amount to as much as that."
"Then everything will be fixed without any trouble, and I will tell Mrs. Hayes we shall go to the camp meeting. Now, Jack dear, lie down a little while and get rested so you can help me. We must do a great deal of cooking before to-morrow night."
During the remainder of the afternoon and the day following, the household was in as great a state of confusion and excitement as when arrangements were being made for the sewing circle.
Aunt Nancy, assisted by Jack, cooked provisions sufficient to have kept a much larger family in food fully two weeks; but the little woman explained she "never liked to go to camp meeting without having something to give those who might come hungry."
The neighbors, and, more particularly, Deacon Downs, had called to ascertain if "the coffee maker" was really going, and Daniel Chick promised to come for her with his wagon at an early hour the following morning.
The deacon agreed to attend to the transportation of the Mocha, and on the evening before the journey was to be made everything appeared to be in "apple-pie order," although to Aunt Nancy's eyes the house was far from being in a proper condition.
Jack was both tired and excited.
The prospect of going to a camp meeting pleased him wonderfully, for he had never attended one, and fancied it was something intended for sport rather than anything serious.
The baskets were packed; Louis's suit of white clothes stiff with starch and without a blemish; Jack's boots were polished until they shone like a mirror; and Aunt Nancy spent considerable time bewailing the fact that she could not afford to buy him a new coat and pair of trousers.
Not until late was the little woman ready to retire, and it appeared to Jack as if he had just fallen asleep when she awakened him to milk the cow.
After feeding the animal it seemed as if a very long time would elapse before it would be possible for him to do the same again, and he patted her sleek sides affectionately as he explained that one of Mr. Chick's daughters would take his place during the next three or four days.
It isn't very likely the animal understood what he said, but she was perfectly willing to part with him, since it was to exchange the stuffy barnyard for the cool, inviting pasture.
The milk was strained and put out on the doorsteps for Miss Chick, since Aunt Nancy could not take it with her, and then a hurried breakfast was eaten. None too soon, either, for the meal had just been finished when Mr. Chick drove up, fretting considerably because the party were not ready to get into the vehicle instantly he arrived.
Half a dozen times was Jack sent to make certain this door or that was fastened securely, and the owner of the wagon worked himself into a state of profuse perspiration before Aunt Nancy finally announced she was ready.
Jack thoroughly enjoyed the ride to the depot, four miles away.
The odor of the flowers and grasses was heavy on the cool air; the birds sang their hymns of thanksgiving that the new day had come; and the trees whispered together of the goodness of the Creator in making for his creatures such a beautiful place in which to live.
"It seems almost wicked to enjoy a scene like this when there are so many poor people who never see the country from one year's end to another," Aunt Nancy said, as she looked around in delight; and Mr. Chick replied, speaking much as if he had a cold in his head,—
"It's for us to take all the enjiment that comes in this world, an' leave others to bear the burdens which are put upon them."
"If that is good doctrine, Daniel Chick, I'd like to know how you'd fancied a dose of it when you was down with the rheumatiz an' depended upon the neighbors to gather the crops?"
"That was a different matter, Nancy Curtis."
"In what way?"
"Well, you see—I—I—p'rhaps I can't explain it so's you an' the children can understand; but there was a difference."
"Only because you can't put yourself in the situation of others. The Golden Rule is good enough for me yet, and I don't think I'll change it for yours."