It must be confessed that Jack was not at all eager to face the alleged burglars.
He knew very well that if there were no more than two he would stand a slim chance of driving them away, and even one good sized man might make it very uncomfortable for him.
Had he been left to follow his own inclinations, the outer door would not have been opened, but he knew Aunt Nancy depended upon him for protection, and he must make a reputation for courage or be disgraced in her eyes.
The sky was overcast with clouds, and Jack could not distinguish objects ten paces away as he stepped on to the broad stone in front of the door.
He heard the key turn in the lock behind him, and this was sufficient to tell him he need not expect any assistance from the little woman inside.
Grasping the carving knife firmly, he moved forward slowly in the direction of the shed, and saw a shadowy form dart around the corner of the building.
Then another, or the same one, returned, approached Jack, and stooped over as if in the act of placing something on the ground.
An instant later the shadow had disappeared, and Jack saw before him a thin line of sparks, apparently coming from the solid earth, but not sufficiently large to cast any light.
Quite naturally Jack's first thought was that the miscreants were trying to set the buildings on fire, and he ran forward to extinguish what seemed ready to burst into a flame, when there was a muffled report, the ground appeared to be a mass of coals, while at the same time a soft, sticky substance was thrown in a shower upon him.
Jack leaped back in surprise and alarm, and as he did so struck his foot against some obstruction with sufficient power to throw him headlong.
The explosion, the sudden glare of light, and the shower of he knew not what, all served to bewilder the boy to such an extent that for the moment it seemed as if the same force which caused the report had knocked him down.
The first idea which came into his mind was that he had been shot, for he remembered having heard that the victim does not feel pain for some time after a bullet enters his body, and the sticky substance on his face he thought must be blood.
"That Bill Dean meant what he said, an' has commenced drivin' me out of town," he muttered to himself, making not the slightest effort to rise, because he believed it impossible to do so.
The silence was almost oppressive after the loud report.
Jack could hear nothing to denote that there was any one in the vicinity, and was feeling of his limbs to ascertain the amount of injury done, when a shrill, tremulous voice from the doorway cried,—
"Jack! Jack dear! Are you hurt much?"
"I'm afraid I'm shot. It seems as if I was bleedin' dreadful!"
"Wait till I can light the lantern, my poor boy"; and the door was closed and locked again.
By this time Jack had fully persuaded himself he was seriously wounded, and wondered how long it would be before the pain came.
Two minutes later Aunt Nancy, partially dressed and with an odd little lantern in her hand, emerged very cautiously from the house.
The fear Jack might be fatally injured was greater than that of the supposed burglars. Her desire to aid others conquered her timidity, and the only thought was to bring relief as speedily as possible.
"Mercy on us! What a dreadful thing!" Aunt Nancy exclaimed as she arrived at the place where Jack was lying at full length on the ground. "Tell me where you are hurt, my poor child."
"I don't know; but it seems as if somethin' tough must have happened, for I'm bleedin' terribly."
The little woman knelt by his side, and held the lantern up until its rays illumined the boy's face.
"I can't see any blood, Jack dear; but you seem to be literally covered with something yellow."
The boy passed his hand over his face, scraping off the supposed sanguinary fluid, and examined it carefully by aid of the light.
Then he leaped to his feet very quickly, looking both ashamed and angry.
"It's some kind of a trick Bill Dean's gang have been playing!" he cried, and at that instant from behind the barn came a shout of derision, followed by hearty laughter.
"Oh, I wish I was strong enough to flog those wicked wretches!" Aunt Nancy said, her eyes filling with tears of vexation.
Jack made no reply.
He had taken the lantern from her hand, and was searching carefully in the immediate vicinity.
It was not long before he and Aunt Nancy decided that the yellow substance was the seeds and pulp of a pumpkin, and Jack said, as he picked up several pieces of red paper,—
"Now I know what it means. Those fellers have dug the inside out of a pumpkin, and put into it a big firecracker. They waited until I came near the shed before lighting it, an', of course, when the thing exploded it sent the stuff flyin'."
"Thank goodness it was no worse!" the little woman added, and Jack burst into a hearty laugh.
Despite the suffering caused by fear, the idea that he had been scared almost into dying by an exploded pumpkin was comical in the extreme, and his mirth was not checked until Aunt Nancy asked quite sharply,—
"What on earth are you laughing at?"
"To think how frightened we got about nothing."
"I'm sure it was a good deal. Here we've been forced out of our beds at this hour of the night, believing burglars were around, and then scared nearly to death because it appeared as if you were wounded, all on account of those terrible boys who wanted to have some sport!"
"It can't be helped now, an' the sooner you get into the house the less will be the chances of your taking cold," Jack replied, checking his mirth with difficulty as he saw how angry Aunt Nancy really was.
Although it was a practical joke which had caused a great deal of mental anxiety for a short time, he could not look upon it otherwise than as funny, except when he realized that this was the first step taken to drive him out of the town.
The little woman insisted on examining the interior of the shed to learn if the boys had done any further mischief, and they found fragments of pumpkin and paper, showing that the "infernal machine" had been constructed there.
Nothing appeared to have been disturbed, and the two who had been so unceremoniously awakened returned to the house after the pulp was scraped with a chip from Jack's face, hair, and clothing.
It was a long time before the boy could induce slumber to visit his eyelids again that night, but he finally succeeded with such good effect that he did not awaken until the noise Aunt Nancy made while building the fire aroused him.
Dressing hurriedly, he went downstairs in time to do a portion of the work, and when the milk was brought into the house after old crumple horn had been driven to pasture, Aunt Nancy asked,—
"Do you think you could take care of Louis a little while this forenoon?"
"Of course I can. Are you going visitin'?"
"Yes; I intend to see if something can't be done to prevent those wretched boys from carrying on in this manner."
"But, Aunt Nancy—"
"Now don't say a word, Jack dear. Things were very much like this last summer when I hired a boy from Portland, and no one can tell what might have happened if he hadn't run away. I know it is wrong to get angry, but I can't help it. Seems to me I am growing more wicked every day; yesterday I just the same as told a lie, and last night I did not control my angry passions."
"But, Aunt Nancy—"
"Don't try to argue with me, or I shall get worse. I am going to see Mr. Dean at once, and you must keep house till I come back."
Louis's guardian realized that words would be worse than useless at such a time, and he wisely refrained from speaking, while Aunt Nancy, as if trying hard to keep her temper within bounds, did the morning work in ominous silence.
When the last duty had been performed, she directed Jack to take the baby out under the old oak, and then disappeared for half an hour or more, at the end of which time she reappeared dressed with scrupulous neatness, but in the quaintest of fashions.
"I sha'n't be away more than an hour; and if any of those boys show themselves, be sure to go into the house with Louis at once."
Saying this, she walked swiftly down the lane, and Jack muttered to himself as she turned the corner into the main road,—
"I'm mighty sorry she's bent on anything of the kind, for I'm certain there'll be trouble for me come out of it."
Fortunately nothing occurred to cause alarm during the little woman's absence.
Jack amused the baby, split more kindlings and piled them up in the shed, being thus occupied when Aunt Nancy returned, looking mildly triumphant.
"There!" she said in a tone of satisfaction as she seated herself beneath the old oak and fanned her heated face with a tiny pocket-handkerchief, "I did control my temper, and I don't think the Dean boy will trouble either of us again."
"Did you tell his father?"
"I gave him a full account of all which had been done, both this summer and last. Mr. Dean has promised me nothing of the kind shall ever happen again, and we are free from that annoyance."
Jack thought, but did not venture to put it into words, that Bill Dean would not give up the struggle so easily, and felt convinced there was yet more serious trouble in store for him before the summer came to an end.
"Do you know, Jack dear, I would give almost anything in the world if I hadn't told a lie to Mr. Pratt. We should have stood our ground, and defied him to take you and the baby away, rather than commit a sin."
"But I can't see that you were so very wicked, Aunt Nancy. He would have carried us off in spite of anything you could say, an' I'm sure you didn't tell a lie."
"It is on my conscience just the same, Jack dear, and I shall never feel easy in mind," the little woman replied with a long-drawn sigh.
Jack was really distressed because Aunt Nancy should regret so deeply what was done in his behalf; but he could think of nothing consoling to say, since she insisted on believing a downright falsehood had been told.
"I am also to be condemned for having given way to my temper; but those boys do try it so severely it is very difficult to remember that he who 'rules his spirit is better than he who taketh a city.'"
Jack looked up in bewilderment.
He did not understand the application of the quotation, and the remark about taking a city mystified him.
Aunt Nancy was so intent on her own sad thoughts that she paid no attention to his perplexity, and after a long silence entered the house, returning a few moments later in her home costume, which the boy thought more becoming than the antiquated finery she had been arrayed in for the call on Bill Dean's father.
The little woman did not give Jack the details of her visit to Mr. Dean; but he felt more confident than ever that it was an ill-advised move, so far as his own peace was concerned, and but a little time was to elapse before this was to be proven.
"I believe I will send a line to Brother Abner now," Aunt Nancy suddenly said. "It is time he learned what has happened; and since we have no pressing work on hand, you can mind the baby. It isn't as easy for me to write letters as it used to be. I need a long while in which to compose my thoughts."
Then the little woman set about the task, and it could be seen it was a hard one by the manner in which she began.
Watching through the open window, Jack saw her bring pens, paper, and ink from her chamber to the kitchen, and then nibble at the end of her penholder as if to derive inspiration from that source.
Had it been some weighty document of state she could not have been more particular, and fully two hours were spent before the labor was completed.
"Took me a long while, didn't it?" she asked on coming into the yard once more. "I believe I've told Abner the whole story, and we'll soon know if the baby's parents are yet alive."
"Shall I carry it to the post-office?"
"Mercy! no. It is in Treat's store, and I couldn't think of letting you take that long walk again to-day."
"It won't hurt me a bit."
"You must stay here quietly with me, and to-morrow perhaps you shall go. There is plenty of time, and who knows if Abner is home now; he's a master hand at gadding about, which accounts for his being so poor. I've always told him that 'a rolling stone gathers no moss,' but he laughs it off by saying he doesn't want to be moss-grown."
Now that the important letter had been written, Aunt Nancy was in no hurry to mail it.
She acted very much as if believing the children would be lost to her immediately after Abner learned the news, and it was simply a case of "deferring the evil day."
During the afternoon Jack further endeared himself to the little woman's heart by patching up the door of the shed in such a manner that it could not be opened readily, and fastening it with an old padlock he found in the barn.
"That is just what I have been wanting for a long time," Aunt Nancy exclaimed in surprise when he called her to see the result of his labors. "How strange I can't do that as well as you!"
"That's because you're a woman," Jack replied, not a little delighted with the praise bestowed upon him.
"It may be; but I'm so very much older, it seems as if I should be able to do such things properly, and yet I can't even drive a nail."
"There'll be no need of your doin' it while I'm 'round."
"And I hope you and Louis will stay a long time; but I suppose it isn't right to say so, for although there isn't any chance his mother can be alive after the ship exploded, he has probably relatives who want to see him."
During the remainder of the day, Jack assisted the little woman with the housework, and at sunset the two sat in the favorite place under the old oak, until Louis became unusually fretful.
After trying in vain to soothe him, Aunt Nancy insisted they should retire, saying as she went toward the house,—
"I am afraid he doesn't feel very well. Are you sure he didn't play in the sun while I was away?"
"I kept him in the shade as much as I could. Do you think he can be sick?"
"Not enough for us to worry about, Jack dear. Children are apt to fuss when everything don't go just right. After I undress him, we'll read the Book, and then you shall go to bed."
The fact that Louis was not in his usual good spirits and temper worried Jack considerably, despite the little woman's cheery words, and when he went to his tiny room it was impossible for him to sleep immediately.
He had lain awake fully two hours, at times speculating as to how he and the baby would finally get to New York, and again wondering if it could be possible that both Captain and Mrs. Littlefield were dead, when the stairway door was opened, as Aunt Nancy whispered cautiously,—
"Jack! Jack dear! Are you awake?"
The boy was on his feet in an instant.
"What's the matter? Is Louis worse?"
"He seems to be quite sick. Will you dress and come down?"
Jack answered this summons very quickly as he tried to keep back the dry sob which came into his throat, for it seemed as if the greatest misfortune which could befall him would be to lose the baby at the time when he was in such a good home.
He found Aunt Nancy in the kitchen with Louis in her arms.
A fire had been built in the stove, and the little woman was seated in front of it rocking the baby as she stirred the boiling contents of a tin kettle.
"Do you know what catnip is when you see it growing?" she asked as Jack entered the room.
"I don't; but if you'll tell me where to go, I'll hunt for it."
"Light the lantern, so there won't be any mistake, and run out to the lane. You'll find some growing along the fence. Get as much as will fill this kettle, and come back as soon as you can."
"Is he very bad?" Jack asked in a trembling voice as he gazed at the baby's flushed cheeks.
"I never have had much experience with children, but I guess a little catnip tea will bring him around all right by morning."
"Hadn't we better have a doctor?"
"There is no need yet, and, besides, there isn't one within six miles."
"It don't make any difference how far it is, I'm willin' to walk any distance for him."
"We will first see what the morning brings forth."
Jack delayed no longer.
The lantern was lighted, and he started at once in search of an herb he did not even know by sight.
Ten minutes later he returned with an armful of green leaves, and Aunt Nancy bestowed but one hasty glance upon them when she cried,—
"O Jack, Jack, you've spent your time gathering burdocks! If you can hold the baby, I'll go after it myself."
"I'd rather try ag'in than have you go out where the grass is wet with dew."
"It won't hurt me. Take Louis"; and the little woman put the baby in Jack's arms as she hurried away, lantern in hand.
It seemed to Jack as if she had but left the house before she returned with the desired herb, and the boy said in surprise,—
"Is that what you call catnip? I saw plenty of it, but didn't think the leaves were big enough to do any good."
"In this world it isn't the big things which are capable of working the most benefit, Jack."
"If I hadn't known that before, I should after seeing you, Aunt Nancy. You're small, but there couldn't be anybody gooder."
Although the little woman said nothing, it could readily be seen that the compliment pleased her.
She bustled around much like a busy sparrow, putting the herbs in the kettle, making sundry mysterious decoctions, and otherwise preparing such things as she thought might be of benefit to the baby.
Jack held Louis meanwhile, and before Aunt Nancy was ready to take him again he asked in a low tone,—
"Do you think there is any chance he would die?"
"I don't believe he is in any danger now, Jack dear; but all of us should think of death as something which will come sooner or later."
The boy was silent for a moment, and then he asked abruptly,—
"You pray for everything you want, why don't you do it now so he'll be sure to live?"
"It wouldn't be right to ask God simply for the child's life."
"Why not?"
"Because He doeth all things well, and we do not know what His purpose may be."
"But there can't be any good come of takin' Louis away from me, when he's all I've got."
"That is something you don't know, Jack dear. What God does is right, and we must bow to His will."
Aunt Nancy spoke in such a solemn tone, or, as Jack afterward expressed it, "like as if she was in meetin'," that the boy could say no more, but watched intently every move the little woman made until she was ready to take the baby in her arms once more.
This night was a long one to both, for neither thought of going to sleep.
Once Aunt Nancy insisted Jack should lie down; but he pleaded so hard to be allowed to remain awake, that she said no more, and the two sat with Louis until daybreak.
During this long time neither spoke until the baby had fallen asleep, and Jack was on the point of going out to milk the cow, when the little woman said in a tone very like that of fear,—
"Wouldn't it be a dreadful thing if I should be punished for telling a lie to Mr. Pratt, by losing Louis just now when we are living so comfortably?"
"But you didn't tell a lie," Jack replied just a trifle impatiently.
"Both you and I know I did, however much we may try to persuade ourselves that it isn't so, and I am certain some punishment will follow."
Jack shook his head incredulously.
He began to understand that it would be useless to attempt to convince Aunt Nancy she had not committed a grievous sin, and was disposed to lose faith in a religion which would condemn so good a woman for having saved himself and the baby from much trouble.
To avoid paining her by saying what was in his mind, he went out to milk, and on returning found the baby sleeping naturally.
"He seems much relieved," Aunt Nancy said as she put him to bed. "He will probably sleep a long while, and you had better get some rest."
Jack insisted that he did not need any, and continued doing such chores as he could find around the house until breakfast was ready, after which he proposed going to the post-office.
"Now the letter is written it had better be mailed, an' perhaps there are some things you want from the store."
"I do need a few notions; but it seems too bad to have you walk so far this hot morning."
"It'll do me good. I can be back by noon, and the weather won't be very warm while I'm goin' over."
Aunt Nancy allowed herself to be persuaded, because there really were some groceries she wanted, and after making out a list with infinite care, cautioning him not to pay more than five cents a pound for the coarse sugar and eighty cents for the tea, she gave him a lunch to be eaten during the return journey.
"I don't want you to stay any longer than is necessary; but at the same time you mustn't hurry too fast," she said, as he walked rapidly down the lane; and Jack replied,—
"I'll be back by noon, unless something terrible happens."
Although the hunchback could not move as fast as more favored boys, he "kept at it," to use his favorite expression, and by this means was able to get over the ground with reasonable rapidity.
He was travelling steadily on, thinking of the baby and Aunt Nancy's apparently needless sorrow at having acted a lie during Mr. Pratt's call, when he was aroused to a sense of what was passing around him by hearing the disagreeably familiar voice of Bill Dean, as he shouted,—
"Hold on there a minute, I want to see you."
Bill was coming across the fields at full speed, and, knowing he could not escape if the bully should pursue him, Jack halted.
"So you're tryin' to hide behind Aunt Nancy's apron strings, eh?" Master Dean cried as he reached the road.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, yes, you do. Didn't you send her over to tell my father that I was goin' to drive you out of town, an' didn't she let on about the lickin' we give you?"
"That was her business. I tried to stop her, for I can 'tend to my own battles."
"Perhaps you can; we'll see about that later. Say, what of that man who was over here huntin' for you?"
Jack's cheeks grew pale.
He understood to whom Bill referred, and it seemed positive the whole story would be known, despite the sacrifice made by Aunt Nancy.
"Haven't got anything to say, eh? Well, I'm goin' to see him, an' tell where you are, then we'll see how you like tattlers."
Jack was frightened beyond the power of speech.
He had no idea but that his enemy knew exactly where to find Mr. Pratt, and firmly believed the time was near at hand when he and Louis would be forcibly taken away from Aunt Nancy's kindly care.
"That don't seem to strike you very well!" Bill cried with a laugh of triumph. "We'll have this thing fixed up in short order, an' then I reckon old Nancy will be ready to hire boys who know their business."
"What makes you jump down on me?" Jack asked piteously.
"You know mighty well. We told you what to do, an' you thought we didn't mean business. Now you'll soon find out."
Jack hadn't the heart to hold any further conversation with his tormentor.
His only thought was to hurry on that he might be alone where the matter could be calmly discussed in his own mind, and walked swiftly away, followed by Bill's jeering words.
Now indeed he had a cup running over with sorrow. If his enemies knew of Mr. Pratt, it would not be long before that gentleman learned of his whereabouts, and it surely seemed as if the time had finally come when he must start out on the long journey, leaving behind the dearest friend he had ever met since the day when his mother crossed the dark river.
"There's no help for it," he said resolutely, "an' I've got to look at this thing right. Bill will tell the farmer right away, an' the sooner we leave the farther we'll be off when they come to find us."
Thus the matter was settled in his mind that the flight should be resumed at the earliest moment it might be safe to take Louis out of doors.
It can readily be supposed Jack was not inclined to linger on the road after this interview with Bill Dean.
That the latter would inform Farmer Pratt of his whereabouts he had no doubt, and this was a method of driving him "out of town" for which he was not prepared.
Walking at full speed, running over the descending ground, and trying to keep on at a good pace when he ascended hills, the journey to Treat's store was accomplished in a remarkably short time.
He found many customers before him, however, and was obliged to wait until it should be his turn, although he felt quite certain every moment was precious.
It was the proprietor of the establishment, who also acted as postmaster, that waited upon him, and while weighing out the "notions" Aunt Nancy had sent for, the gentleman said, as if answering his own question,—
"So you've been hired by Aunt Nancy."
"I'm stayin' there a little while, sir."
"You are, eh? Where do you hail from?"
Jack hesitated an instant, and then replied with a forced laugh,—
"I s'pose I oughter say I belong to the farm, 'cause I haven't any other home."
"An orphan, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where did your folks useter live?"
Jack was not aware that Mr. Treat had the name of being the most inveterate gossip in the neighborhood; but felt positive there was no good reason why he should satisfy his curiosity on this point, more particularly since, in view of Bill Dean's threats, he wished to keep as a secret everything concerning himself, therefore said with an assumption of carelessness,—
"Almost anywhere. You see I was brought up to be a sailor."
"Sho! Is that so? Well now I wouldn't think you'd make much of a fist shinnin' 'round on the riggin'."
"Even if I am crooked I might be as spry as other fellers."
"That's a fact; but you don't look it"; and then the worthy Mr. Treat turned his attention to the list Aunt Nancy had written for Jack's guidance.
When the goods had been made ready the proprietor of the store would have questioned the messenger further, but the latter hurried away without replying to what he did not consider it was necessary strangers should know.
Jack arrived at the farm unusually early, and Aunt Nancy exclaimed as he came up the lane looking heated and breathless,—
"Well, I declare! It does beat all how you can get over the ground! Why, I've known it to take Daniel Chick's horse a good bit longer to go to the post-office and back."
"I was in a hurry to talk with you, an' so come as quick as I could, for I'm afraid Louis an' I must go away, even after all that's been done."
The little woman looked up quickly in mingled alarm and surprise.
"Why, what has happened, Jack dear?"
For reply the boy repeated that which Bill Dean had said, and added in conclusion,—
"You see Mr. Pratt will be over here the minute he hears the news, an' then everything is settled the wrong way."
"Are you certain Bill Dean knows where he lives?"
"Of course he must, else he wouldn't have said what he did."
"I'm sorry to have to doubt his word; but I couldn't put the least dependence in a thing he says, and there are more than me in this town of the same opinion. Besides, he is too indolent to walk so far."
"Still there's a chance he might send some word."
"You are right, Jack; but at the same time I wouldn't borrow trouble. In case that man should come, you can find some way of keeping out of his clutches until I see the 'Squire."
"What good would that do?"
"I don't know; but it does seem as if we might prevent him from carrying you and the baby away when I'm not only willing but anxious to have you both stay with me. I don't believe there is any law to compel children who have a good home to go to a poorhouse, and if there is the least bit more bother I'm going to have the matter settled once and for all in the 'Squire's court."
Aunt Nancy spoke in such a decided tone, and seemed so thoroughly convinced there was a legal remedy for the trouble, that Jack felt relieved at once.
"I could get out of his way, no matter how close he got to me; but there's the baby. It might be I was where I couldn't find Louis quick enough when the farmer came, an' then he'd soon drag him away."
"The baby will be with me, and I promise you there'll be no dragging when I'm around," the little woman said with considerable dignity. "Keep up your courage, and I'm sure we shall come out all right, except for that miserable action of mine yesterday. If I had told the truth then and defied him, things would seem a great deal smoother now."
"Then I'll hold on a while longer."
"Certainly, and in the future stay close around the house, so those terrible boys can't make mischief. Did you ever do any gardening, Jack?"
"Do you mean plantin' seeds an' makin' 'em grow?"
"I mean cultivating the ground. No one can force the seeds to grow but He who rules over all. I would dearly love to have a few string beans and some cabbages, but it's so expensive hiring the land ploughed that I haven't been able to afford it."
"I could dig up a good deal with a shovel."
"If you'll try it I will get the seeds, and perhaps we shall have the pleasure of harvesting our own crops."
Jack was so relieved in mind that he did not feel any fatigue because of the long walk, and insisted on beginning work in the garden at once.
Despite all Aunt Nancy could say against it, he labored industriously with the shovel during the next two hours, and at the end of that time as much ground had been prepared as the little woman thought necessary.
"It won't do to try too much at first," she said musingly, as, with Louis in her arms, she watched the deformed boy make ready the small plot between the woodshed and barn. "I'll see about the seeds to-morrow, and it does seem as if we might put in more than cabbages and beans now that we've got so much room. I didn't suppose you would care to dig up very much."
"It isn't such hard work but that I'd be willin' to make one twice this size; as it is, I reckon you can plant pretty nearly all you want."
Then Aunt Nancy, looking very grave as if the task was one of the greatest importance, measured the plot into rows, putting in little bits of wood to mark where each kind of seed should be planted, and when it was finished she looked thoroughly happy.
"We shall have a famous garden, Jack dear, and it won't be necessary for me to spend so much money for vegetables when the summer boarders come. They always wonder why I don't raise my own green stuff."
The garden and the plans concerning it gave both so much pleasure that, for the time being at least, Farmer Pratt was almost forgotten.
The chores occupied Jack's time during the remainder of the day, and when he retired it was to fall asleep almost immediately because of fatigue.
Early next morning Aunt Nancy visited one of the neighbors to procure seeds, and when another night came every row was planted.
During the three succeeding days Jack remained near the house, never going farther away than the main road, where he spent his spare time watching for Farmer Pratt.
It surely seemed as if Bill Dean was ignorant of the gentleman's address, or, as Aunt Nancy had suggested, was too indolent to make the journey to Scarborough, for nothing was seen or heard of Tom's father, and Jack began to feel a certain sense of security.
Louis was as contented as a child well could be, and each day claimed more of the little woman's affections until she actually began to look forward with dismay to the coming of the summer boarders, because then she could not devote to him so much of her time.
Never once was the nightly search for burglars omitted; and when Jack asked why such a labor was necessary when it was positive no one could enter the house during the day without her knowledge, she replied with an ominous shake of the head,—
"We can't say, Jack dear, what might happen. I have done this same thing for the last fifteen years, and don't intend to be careless now in my old age."
"But you never found anybody, did you?"
"No, and I hope I never shall; but it would be impossible to sleep if I neglected what seems like a solemn duty."
On the fourth day after the garden was planted both Jack and Aunt Nancy visited it twice to see if the seeds had sprouted, and several times did the sight of a weed cause them the greatest joy for a few moments, since it seemed certain something in the vegetable line had shown itself.
Like Farmer Pratt, Bill Dean remained out of sight, and the little woman was confident she had frightened him away.
"We can count on being left alone this summer, Jack dear, for he won't show his head around here. In all the years I have lived on the farm, when I went to his father was the first time I ever made a complaint to a neighbor, and I hope it will be the last, for I do think people should avoid troubling others with such things. We are told that we must forgive our brother seventy times seven; but there was no use in doing that by William, since it made no difference to him whether he was forgiven or not."
Jack was not so confident that those who threatened to drive him away had relinquished their purpose; but he said nothing regarding his fears, since no good could come of alarming the little woman. The day on which the first cabbage showed two tiny leaves above the surface was a red-letter day for the amateur gardeners.
Aunt Nancy spent at least two hours admiring it, and the seat under the big oak was abandoned at sunset in order that she might search for further proofs of their success.
"There is so much pleasure in having a garden that I shall never again be without one, that is," she added with a sigh, "if I have you with me. I can't bear to think that the time may come when we must part."
"May come? Why, it must come, Aunt Nancy. Just as soon as the weather gets cool, we are bound to start."
"I have been thinking perhaps Louis hasn't any relatives living, and in that case what would prevent you and he from staying here until I go down into the valley of the shadow of death?"
"Nothing would suit me better," Jack replied emphatically. "This is the first home I have ever known, and it will be hard to leave it."
"If you do go, Jack dear, it will be a lonely old woman you leave behind. I had gotten accustomed to living alone; but now it is different, and the house would seem deserted without you and the baby. Yet I am afraid something of the kind must happen to punish me for telling Mr. Pratt a lie. It is through a crime that I was enabled to enjoy your company, and we know what are the wages of sin."
Jack was not disposed to allow the conversation to continue in this channel.
He could not bring himself to believe the little woman had done anything wrong in letting Farmer Pratt think he and Louis were not there, and it made him impatient to hear her blame herself so severely.
"You see, Aunt Nancy, we would have to leave whether you done as you did or not, for how can we tell whether Capt. Littlefield or his wife are alive unless we go to find out?"
"Oh, Abner will attend to all that! He lived in York State so long that he knows nearly every one in it by this time, and when we hear from him the whole story must be known, for interesting himself in other people's affairs is what exactly suits Abner."
Jack could not be satisfied with this reply.
He believed implicitly everything Aunt Nancy told him, and she was so positive that there appeared to be no chance for doubt.
The little woman was called from the contemplation of the garden by that which, for a moment, caused Jack the greatest alarm.
The rattle of wheels was heard from the road, and an instant later Aunt Nancy said in surprise,—
"Mercy on us! who can that be driving up the lane?"
"It is the farmer comin' for us!" Jack cried excitedly as he caught Louis from Aunt Nancy's arms, and would have run off at full speed if she had not restrained him.
"Wait a moment, my child. I don't see any man in the wagon."
Jack looked quickly in the direction of the newcomers and then said,—
"There are two women, but one of them may be Mrs. Pratt."
Again he would have sought refuge in flight but for Aunt Nancy's detaining hand.
"It is only Mrs. Hayes and Mrs. Souders. I suppose they have come to make a call, and what will they think at seeing the house in such confusion?"
Jack, now that his fears were allayed, could not repress a smile at the idea of Aunt Nancy's house ever being in anything save a cleanly and orderly condition; but the little woman appeared really distressed because she had not had an opportunity to inspect it thoroughly before receiving company.
"Take care of Louis, and stay under the oak-tree until I come out again," she said, hurrying away to receive the newcomers.
Jack loitered near the barn where he would not be seen until the visitors had alighted, tied securely the aged horse, whose only ambition appeared to be to remain motionless, and entered the house.
Then, instead of doing as Aunt Nancy had suggested, he took Louis into the woodshed, amusing him there for nearly an hour, when the two ladies departed.
"Where are you, Jack?" the little woman called softly when the horse had drawn the wagon and its occupants on to the highway.
"What is the matter?" Jack cried, as on emerging from his place of retreat he saw a look of deepest anxiety on Aunt Nancy's face. "Did they come here to take us away?"
"It's not quite as bad as that," the little woman replied with a long-drawn sigh, "but very nearly. What do you suppose they wanted?"
Jack didn't even attempt to hazard a guess, and Aunt Nancy continued in a mournful tone,—
"They want to hold the monthly sewing circle here day after to-morrow!"
"Well?" Jack asked, surprised that such a request should have caused so much distress.
"Well? Why, Jack, how can you treat it so lightly? Just think of it! Only one day to clean house, go to the store, and do all the cooking!"
"I don't see that there'll be very much to do in the way of cleaning house. It shines like a new three-cent piece already, and how are you goin' to make it look any better?"
"O Jack! boys don't understand about such things. You can't see in the corners where the dirt always lodges, and the company will be sure to find everything that is slighted."
"Well, I can go to the store for you at least."
"I wouldn't allow you to take the chances of seeing William Dean even if you could do the errands, which is impossible. I must get Mr. Chick to carry me over in his team, and while I am away you and Louis are to stay in the house with the doors locked."
"I don't think there is any need of that. Those fellers wouldn't dare to come here."
"I can't believe they would; but at the same time it will do no harm to be careful. Now what shall we have for supper?"
"Do you mean to-night?"
"Of course not. It doesn't make any difference what we eat for a day or two; but we must think very seriously of what is to be cooked for the circle."
"Have some of your nice biscuits and a piece of cake. If folks can get anything better than that, they deserve to go hungry."
"O Jack! you don't understand such things. I should be mortified almost to death if I didn't do as well as Mrs. Souders did when the circle met at her house last month."
Then Aunt Nancy, looking as if a heavy burden of care had suddenly fallen upon her, went in to the kitchen, taking Louis with her, that Jack might be free to milk the cow.
On this evening, immediately after supper had been eaten and the dishes washed, Aunt Nancy announced that it would be necessary for her to call upon Mr. Daniel Chick.
"If I wait until morning his team may not be at home, and, besides, I want him to be ready to make an early start. We must be back by noon at the latest."
"Why not let me go and tell him what you want?" Jack asked.
"Because you don't know where he lives, and then again it is necessary to pass Mr. Dean's in order to reach his house. William might be at home, and who knows what would happen?"
Then Aunt Nancy made a hurried toilet, clothing herself in one of those quaint costumes which Jack did not think at all becoming, and said, as she entered the kitchen again,—
"You must promise not to step your foot out of doors while I am gone. Keep everything well locked, and if any one should happen to call don't show yourself without first learning who they are."
Jack agreed, and while the little woman was absent he rocked Louis to sleep, swept the floor until one would have said a broom ought to be ashamed for going over such a cleanly surface with any idea of collecting dirt, and was in the "fore-room" with a lighted candle admiring the crockery rooster when Aunt Nancy returned.
"It's me, Jack dear!" she cried as she knocked softly on the door, and when it was opened, entered with the air of one who has been successful.
"I got there just in time. He was going over to Henry Mitchell's to tell him he'd haul gravel to-morrow; but of course he had rather go to Treat's, for the work isn't so hard on either himself or his horse. Now we must get to bed early, for I told him I wanted to start by sunrise at the very latest."
"But, Aunt Nancy, you don't mean that I am to stay in the house with the doors locked all the forenoon, do you? There are lots of things I could do; but it would be pretty warm if there wasn't any chance for air."
"I suppose you might have the doors open, provided you kept a sharp watch on the road, and closed them again in case that Dean boy or his associates should come," the little woman replied thoughtfully.
"What shall I do?"
"You could clean the knives and forks, and wash all the best dishes through two waters. Be careful when you wipe them, Jack dear, for it would be terrible if any should be broken."
After these arrangements had been made, Aunt Nancy remained silent a short time to free her mind from worldly thoughts, and then came the evening devotions, when the little woman prayed earnestly for the "weary and heavy laden," which Jack thought was a reference to herself and the expected company.
It was yet dark next morning when a noise from the kitchen aroused the hunchback, and hurrying down he found Aunt Nancy busily engaged preparing breakfast.
"Why, you must have stayed awake all night!" he exclaimed in surprise.
"Indeed I wasn't so foolish as to do anything of the kind; but when I have work on hand I like to be about it, and goodness knows there's plenty for me to do between now and to-morrow night."
"No; let him sleep as long as he chooses. You can dress and give him some bread and milk?"
"That part of it will be all right," Jack replied confidently, and then he prepared to astonish old crumple-horn by appearing before her while it was yet so dark that she could hardly see the lunch of clover to which she was accustomed during milking time.
Breakfast had been cooked, eaten, and the dishes washed before Mr. Daniel Chick and his venerable horse came up the lane.
Aunt Nancy was not only ready for the journey, but had begun to grow impatient because of the delay, when he reined up in front of the broad stone step as he said in a cheery tone, calculated to soothe any angry feelings,—
"Well, I must say you're a master hand at gettin' up, Aunt Nancy. 'Pears like as if you was allers on foot like a sparrer."
"I try to do what I have on hand in good season," was the rather sharp reply. "There would be less poor folks in this world if people didn't dally round in such a shiftless manner."
Mr. Chick knew full well that this remark was aimed especially at him; but like a wise man he made no reply lest worse should follow, and turned the wheels of the wagon that the little woman might have no trouble in clambering on board.
Aunt Nancy stopped only long enough to give some parting advice to Jack.
"Be sure to keep a sharp watch on the road if you have the doors open," she whispered, "and don't go out, even into the yard, unless it is absolutely necessary, for nobody knows what may happen. When you wash the best dishes be careful, Jack dear, for I should feel very badly in case any were broken."
"I'll attend to it in great shape, Aunt Nancy."
"Don't give Louis too much milk at a time, the weather is so hot that it might curdle on his stomach; and if I don't succeed in getting home until afternoon, there is some cold meat and cake on the hanging shelf in the cellar. Don't go without a lunch; it is very unhealthy to work while you are hungry."
"Who's dallying now, Aunt Nancy?" Mr. Chick cried as he tried to prevent his horse from nibbling at the honeysuckle-bush.
"If you had come as you agreed I should have had plenty of time to attend to matters," was the sharp reply; and then with many injunctions for him to keep a firm hold on the reins, the little woman succeeded in gaining the rather shaky seat.
"Take good care of Louis!" she cried as the horse ambled slowly down the lane; and Jack re-entered the house feeling decidedly lonely at the prospect of being without Aunt Nancy for several hours.
In order to occupy his mind he set about the work laid out, and was so industrious that before the baby made known the fact of being awake, the knives and forks had been cleaned.
Fully an hour was spent dressing and feeding Louis, after which he was allowed to play on the kitchen floor while his crooked guardian washed the "best dishes."
This was a task which required considerable time, and at eleven o'clock it was hardly more than half finished.
Then again Louis wanted milk, and when it had been given him he insisted upon being allowed to go out on the doorstep.
At first Jack was disposed to keep him in the house; but when he became fretful, gave him his own way, as he said half to himself,—
"I don't s'pose there can be any harm in lettin' you stay here; but if anything should happen, Aunt Nancy would think I had been careless."
After that he kept a strict watch over the baby, going to the door every few moments, and on each occasion finding Louis playing contentedly with a string of buttons the little woman had prepared for him.
The fact that he showed no disposition to leave the broad stone caused Jack to have less care than usual, and this, coupled with the idea of cleaning the most elaborate dishes, rendered him oblivious to the flight of time.
He was brought to a realization of what was passing around by hearing the rumble of a carriage in the lane, and almost before he could reach the door, Aunt Nancy was in the house, while Mr. Chick had driven away at the full speed of his very slow horse.
"Did you get along all right, Jack dear?" the little woman asked, as she deposited an armful of bundles on the table.
"Yes, indeed. You see there has been plenty of work, and it doesn't seem any time since you left."
"Where is the baby?"
"On the doorstep. He fussed to go out, an' I thought the fresh air wouldn't do him any harm."
"Which doorstep?"
"Why here, of course"; and Jack stepped forward only to give vent to a cry of alarm an instant later. "He isn't here at all! Where do you suppose he could have gone?"
Aunt Nancy was at the door before he ceased speaking, and gazed up and down the yard in bewilderment, but without seeing any signs of the missing baby.
For an instant the two stood gazing at each other in perplexity, and then Aunt Nancy asked sharply,—
"How long since you saw him?"
"It didn't seem many minutes before you came; but I s'pose it must have been, else he'd be 'round here now."
"Run up to the barn and see if he is there!"
As she spoke the little woman went down the lane, returning just as Jack came back.
"He isn't there," the latter said.
"Nor on the road. Of course he must be somewhere near, for children can't disappear entirely in such a mysterious fashion. Go up the lane and I'll look back of the barn."
"But then we shall be leaving the barn alone You stay here an' I'll do the searchin'."
"It wouldn't make any difference if we left the house wide open for a month, I couldn't stand still while that dear little baby is wandering around nobody knows where."
Jack understood that it would be useless to remonstrate, and started off at full speed.
Up to the entire length of the lane he ran without finding that for which he sought, and then back to the house where he was met by Aunt Nancy on whose wrinkled face was written fear and anguish.
She did not wait for him to tell her that the search had been in vain, but cried,—
"Go up through the field from the shed. There is a place where he might have gotten through the fence, and it would lead directly to the duck pond if he kept on in a straight line!"
There was a tone in her voice which told of the fear she had regarding the possible ending of his adventures; and Jack, with a mental prayer that he would find the little fellow before it was too late, ran across the enclosure, Aunt Nancy going in the same direction, but at a slight angle.
The little woman's anxiety gave fleetness to her feet, and she travelled even faster than Jack could.
Both called loudly from time to time, but without receiving any answer, and Jack's heart grew heavy as he thought of what might have happened while he was in the house all unconscious of impending trouble.
As the two neared the pond the figure of a boy could be distinguished among the foliage of alders running at full speed toward the main road, and Jack shouted to Aunt Nancy,—
"There goes one of Bill Dean's gang. They know where Louis is."
This caused the little woman to redouble her cries, and a few seconds later two more boys could be dimly seen as they hurried away, keeping well within the shelter of the bushes to avoid recognition.
There was no longer any question in Jack's mind but that he would soon find the baby, nor was he mistaken.
On arriving in view of the pond both saw a rudely constructed raft of fence rails at least ten yards from the shore, and on it, crowing and laughing as if he was having the jolliest possible time sat Louis.
"How can we reach him?" Aunt Nancy cried, as she stood wringing her hands, while the big tears ran down her cheeks. "He will surely be drowned, Jack! What is to be done?"
The hunchback had no thought of his own safety or discomfort as compared with that of rescuing the baby.
Without hesitation he ran into the pond, continuing on at risk of being mired, until the water was above his waist, and the baby held out his hands to be taken.