Kitabı oku: «Jack the Hunchback: A Story of Adventure on the Coast of Maine», sayfa 11
Chapter XXI
STARTLING INFORMATION
Realizing that he had a long walk before him, Jack continued on at a steady pace keeping ever in mind the good he hoped to accomplish.
He did not dare dwell upon the possible ending to the journey lest he should grow faint-hearted, but tried to persuade himself there would be some way by which he might escape the threatened ignominy.
By starting at midnight, he expected to arrive at Scarborough early in the day, and then, in case Farmer Pratt did not attempt to detain him, it would be possible to return to the farm before sunset.
It was not believed he would meet any travellers at that hour, and the loneliness, when the shadows danced to and fro athwart the road like fairy-land monsters, was so great as to make him repent ever having attempted the undertaking.
As the curtain of night was slowly removed, and the heralds of the coming morn appeared in the sky, his drooping spirits revived.
He listened with interest to the sounds which proclaimed that day was awakening. The birds in their leafy homes began to discuss the propriety of going out in search of the "early worm." The frogs from the watery dwellings called to their children that it was time to be up and doing unless they wanted to remain tadpoles forever, and the wind which came "out of the sea" whispered: Awake! it is the day.
The leaves bowed and courtesied, the waving grasses bent yet lower their heads, the flowers brought out their sweetest perfumes, and all nature was quivering with excitement because the kindly sun was about to show himself once more.
Then as the first golden rays of light shot across the sky and the birds burst forth into song, Jack felt a certain sense of relief. The words which he had heard Aunt Nancy speak so often came to his mind, and he repeated over and over again, understanding the meaning better than ever before, —
"He doeth all things well."
It was but a little past eight o'clock when he turned the corner which led to Farmer Pratt's house, and the first person he saw was none other than Master Tom.
"Hello! Where'd you come from?" that young gentleman cried in surprise.
"Down the road a bit."
"Why didn't you git back before? Father's been lookin' almost everywhere for you an' the baby."
"Is he still huntin'?"
"No, he gave it up as a bad job a good while ago, for there's no chance of gettin' the reward now."
"The reward?" Jack asked in surprise.
"Yes; you see the baby's mother went away from Portland, an' father don't allow there's anybody in town who cares very much about it after so long a time."
"Louis' mother in Portland?" Jack cried, rapidly growing bewildered.
"Of course; father went in to see her after he made up his mind you'd gone away; but she wasn't there, so he said it would pay him better to 'tend to the farm instead of runnin' 'round after you fellers."
Jack's eyes were opened wide with astonishment, and Tom began to think the hunchback had taken leave of his senses.
"What's the matter with you?" he asked sharply, and Jack replied slowly, —
"I can't make out how Mrs. Littlefield happened to be in Portland when the last I saw of her was on the 'Atlanta.' Why, the ship was goin' to Bremen!"
"She come inside the breakwater after you went adrift. It's all in the papers father's got."
"Why didn't you tell me about it?" Jack asked reproachfully.
"How could I when we didn't know where you was? Me an' father hunted all 'round, but couldn't find hide nor hair of either you or the baby."
"Was your father tryin' to send us back to Mrs. Littlefield?"
"Sure, 'cause he wanted to earn the reward."
"An' I've been keepin' out of his way when I might have given Louis back to his mother long ago!" Jack cried in dismay.
"You oughter knowed better."
"How could I when he'd threatened to send us to the poor farm?"
"But he didn't."
"He told Aunt Nancy so."
"Who's she?"
"A lady we've been livin' with. Say, Tom, have you got the papers that tell about Mrs. Littlefield huntin' for us?"
"There's a whole slat of 'em down to the house. Father spent more'n twenty cents buyin' whatever had anything in it about you."
"Will you give me one?"
"Of course. I know they ain't any good, for I heard him say he'd thrown away jest so much money on the pesky things."
"Let's go right down an' get one," Jack cried excitedly as he tried to quicken Tom's movements by pulling at his arm.
Master Pratt was not a boy who could be hurried; he objected to moving quickly upon any occasion, however important, and said irritably, —
"Don't yank a feller 'round so; if I go back now I'm afraid father'll be there an' set me to work."
"I'll help you if he does."
"A feller like you wouldn't 'mount to much haulin' rock-weed," Tom said scornfully.
"But I'll help as much as I can. Do go, Tom; only think what it means to Louis! His mother will soon find him if I can take one of the papers back to Aunt Nancy."
"How do you make that out?"
"She'd see where to write to Mrs. Littlefield, an' that would settle the whole thing."
"Well, I'll go," Master Pratt said with an air such as he fancied a martyr should wear; "but it's goin' to be mighty hard if I'm set to work after gettin' so far away from home."
Jack hurried him along as fast as possible, which at the best was a slow pace, and, on arriving at the Pratt farm, Tom reconnoitred several minutes, determined not to enter the house if his father was on the premises.
Mr. Pratt was nowhere to be seen, and Tom whispered, —
"You stay here while I run in an' get it. Mother may be mad if she sees you hangin' 'round after father has blowed us up so much for lettin' you go away."
Jack hid himself behind a clump of hollyhocks, and in a few moments Tom came back with two papers which showed signs of having been subjected to hard usage.
"Put 'em in your pocket, an' let's skip."
Jack was about to act upon this suggestion when it suddenly occurred to him that, in the excitement caused by learning Louis' mother was searching for her child, he had forgotten the reason for his visit.
"I've got to see your father before I leave," he said.
"What for? He won't be very pleasant after losin' all the money the captain's wife was willin' to pay."
"I can't help that. I'm here with a message from Aunt Nancy, an' it must be delivered."
"I guess you'll find him down in the potato patch, but I ain't fool enough to go with you. Hurry up, an' I'll see you on the road, for I reckon you count on goin' back to that Aunt Nancy."
"Of course, an' I must be there as soon as possible."
Tom pointed out the location of the field, and Jack started across the ploughed land feeling very light at heart, because it now seemed probable Louis would soon find his mother.
Farmer Pratt was not aware he had a visitor until Jack had approached within a couple of yards, and said in a voice which was decidedly shaky, —
"Good mornin', sir."
"Hello! It's you, eh?"
"Yes, sir," Jack replied, as if believing the gentleman wished for an answer.
"Well, you young scoundrel, what have you to say for yourself after cheatin' me out of one hundred dollars? Answer me that, you misshapen villain!"
"I didn't cheat you, sir."
"Don't contradict me, you miserable cripple, or as sure's my name's Nathan Pratt I'll strike you with this hoe!"
Jack started back in alarm as the farmer raised the tool, and then, hoping to bring the interview to a speedy close, said timidly, —
"I came here, sir, to tell you that Aunt Nancy is awful sorry she acted a lie when you were at the house huntin' for us. She can't be easy in her mind till she's confessed, an' as she couldn't walk so far I've come in her place."
"Is that the little woman up on the Saco road with a couple of curls an' a mighty sharp tongue?"
"She's got two curls."
"I know her! So she lied to me, eh?"
"Not exactly, sir, for you didn't ask straight out if we were there; but she's awful good and thinks by not tellin' everything it was the same as a lie, so I come over here to tell you she's sorry."
"So she ought to be, the vixen! The idea of a little drop of vinegar like her keepin' that baby away from his mother!"
"Did you know, then, that Louis' mother was huntin' for him?"
"Of course I did, or else why would I have gone gallivantin' 'round the country lookin' for him?"
"Then why didn't you tell her? She'd been only too glad to hear from Mrs. Littlefield, but you made her believe we'd got to be took to the poor farm."
The farmer glared at Jack for an instant, and then it flashed across his mind that the cause of his losing the reward was the lie he told to Aunt Nancy.
This was not a consoling thought to one who had mourned so deeply over the loss of the prospective money as had Mr. Pratt, and the only relief he could find was in scolding Jack.
The cripple listened to his angry words a few seconds, and then, knowing no good could come of waiting, said as he walked away, —
"I only came over here to tell you Aunt Nancy was sorry, an' there's no need of stayin' any longer after you know it."
"I'll have her arrested for swindlin' me outer that money!"
"She didn't do anything of the kind, an' it's all your own fault you lost it," Jack cried, emboldened by the knowledge that he was at a safe distance from the angry man.
The farmer shook his fist at the cripple in impotent rage, and Jack hurried out to the road where Tom was waiting to receive him.
"What was goin' on down there?" Master Pratt asked eagerly. "I heard him hollerin' awful."
"It wasn't much. Your father was kinder mad, but I guess he'll get over it pretty soon."
"I hope so, for he's been scoldin' about losin' the money ever since he first saw the papers. Where are you goin' now?"
"Home."
"Why don't you hold on a while an' get rested?"
"It won't do to stop; Aunt Nancy'll be worryin' about me, an', besides, we've got to send a letter to Louis' mother right away."
Tom insisted that after the service he had rendered it would be nothing more than a friendly act for the cripple to remain and chat a while, but Jack would listen to nothing of the kind.
Despite his weariness he set out on the return journey at once, but with a lighter heart than when he left Aunt Nancy's home.
It was dark when he came down the lane and found the little woman sitting under the old oak.
"O Jack dear!" she cried in tones of mingled joy and surprise. "It's really you, and that hard-hearted farmer didn't send you to the poor farm. But perhaps you couldn't find him," she added as the thought occurred to her.
"Yes I did, an' I told him you was sorry."
Then Jack related the incidents of his journey, reserving until the last the startling news which promised to restore Louis to his parents' arms.
Aunt Nancy alternately laughed and cried when she heard the story, and at its conclusion said, —
"What a lesson that should be to us, Jack dear. If I hadn't acted the lie Louis would have seen his mother just so much sooner, and I have been the means of making the poor woman's heart ache longer than was necessary. You thought it wasn't a sin because I didn't speak the words which formed the falsehood, and yet you can now see that increased trouble has been brought about by it."
"But Mr. Pratt told a reg'lar lie."
"That doesn't excuse me in the slightest. If every person in the world spoke falsely I couldn't plead that it gave me a right to do so. But come into the house and get something to eat. You must be nearly famished as well as tired."
"A slice of bread and butter wouldn't taste bad. Where's Louis?"
"I put him to bed an hour ago," the little woman replied as she led the way in. "After I set the table I'll read the papers you brought so we can find out what's to be done to let that poor woman know where her baby is."
Jack insisted there was no reason why the table should be laid for him, but Aunt Nancy would not listen to his proposition of taking the food in his hands.
She set out some of the best crockery, and in it placed as tempting a lunch as the most fastidious boy could have asked for.
Then as Jack ate she read the accounts of the accident on board the "Atlanta."
"It doesn't state here where the captain lives," she said after a while, "but I think I know how we can find Mrs. Littlefield. I will write a letter to the editor of the paper asking for her address, or perhaps it would save time to send one to her and get him to address it."
"The last plan is the best," Jack said after some thought.
"Then I'll write at once, and you shall take it to the post office the first thing in the morning."
It was late before the little woman finished what was to her a hard task, and then she thanked her Father for his wondrous goodness and mercy in allowing that her sin brought forth no other evil than the delay in restoring the baby to his mother's arms.
Chapter XXII
THE ARRIVAL
Bright and early on the following morning Jack set out for the post office with the letter, and Mr. Treat would have resumed the "dicker" for the cow immediately after his arrival, but the hunchback prevented him by saying, —
"I don't want to buy one now. Mrs. Souders gave Aunt Nancy a handsome creature, and that is all she needs."
"Sho! You don't mean to tell me Sarah Souders gave one right out?"
"That's what she did."
"Then all I can say is, it's a case of fool an' her money soon parted. Why shouldn't Aunt Nancy pay for things the same as anybody else?"
"She hadn't the money."
"There's where you make a mistake, for we haven't settled for the wheat yet, an' I've quite a little sum in my hands belongin' to her."
"But that must be used in gettin' ready for the summer boarders."
"Well," Mr. Treat said with a long-drawn sigh, as if pained because he had been prevented from performing a charitable act, "I can't help it if the old woman wants sich a cow as Sarah Souders would buy when she can get a good one from me by puttin' out a little money."
Then the worthy post master took the letter Jack handed him, scrutinized it carefully, asked if Aunt Nancy was thinking of putting an advertisement in the papers for summer boarders, and, on receiving a non-committal answer, finally dropped it in the mail bag.
Jack had waited to see this last act performed, and when the missive disappeared he hurried home.
It so chanced that he did not arrive there as soon as he had expected.
While passing Mr. Dean's house Bill came out and hailed him with, —
"Say, Hunchie, is the old maid waitin' for me to come 'round so she can talk Sunday school?"
"Aunt Nancy doesn't do anything of the kind. If you knowed her as well as I do you'd be mighty glad to be where she was."
"I ain't sayin' that isn't so, an' don't be s'prised if you see me up there pretty soon."
"Shall I tell her so?"
"No, for it might give the old woman too much of a shock. I only thought I'd let you know so's you wouldn't get frightened when I came inter the yard," and with this remark Master Dean re-entered the house, probably thinking he had paved the way in a very delicate manner for a visit to the little woman whom he had so often held up to ridicule.
Now that the important letter had really been sent both Aunt Nancy and Jack were in a nervously expectant frame of mind.
They were unable to decide whether the editor of the newspaper or Mrs. Littlefield would write first, and anxiously they awaited for some tidings.
Jack went to the post office for every mail, and the little woman actually neglected to wipe imaginary specks of dust from the furniture during three whole days.
At the expiration of this time both were startled at seeing Daniel Chick drive up the lane with a strange lady in his wagon.
It was at the close of the afternoon, and the two were sitting under the big oak while Louis nestled snugly in the little woman's arms.
There was no doubt in Aunt Nancy's mind as to who the stranger might be when she leaped from the carriage, and, seizing the baby in her arms, covered his face with kisses and tears.
"It's the dear little fellow's mother," Aunt Nancy whispered, as she led Jack away, "and it is well to leave her alone for a while. She may be hungry, and we must get supper at once. Send Daniel Chick off while I start the fire."
It was not an easy matter to dismiss the driver of the vehicle.
He had been unable to extract any information from Mrs. Littlefield, and wanted to know why she had come to Aunt Nancy's at least three weeks before the summer boarders should arrive.
"It's the baby's mother, and we want to leave her alone," Jack replied.
"I ain't troublin' of her, am I?" and Mr. Chick crossed one leg over the other as he gazed at the scene.
"No; but Aunt Nancy said you were to go away now," Jack persisted, and then, seeing that the gentleman evinced no disposition to leave, he joined the little woman in the house.
Supper was ready and on the table before Mrs. Littlefield could relinquish the baby long enough to ask Jack for the particulars of his adventures.
Then when she came to the door Aunt Nancy said, as her ringlets, sharing the feelings of the wearer, shook with suppressed excitement, —
"I hope you will have something to eat. You must be hungry by this time, and Louis shall sit with me while you are at the table."
As she spoke the little woman held out her hands invitingly to the baby, and he showed every desire to go to her.
"It can be plainly seen that my darling has had a good home," Mrs. Littlefield replied as she kissed him again and again.
"He has been loved perhaps better than in a house where there were other children; but almost any one would have given him the same treatment."
"I am afraid not; both he and Jack have been very fortunate. Now I will take a cup of tea, but had rather hold him myself."
Aunt Nancy beckoned for Jack to be seated although it was not more than two hours since he had eaten supper, and when the little woman's head was bowed in devotion she fervently thanked her Father for his wondrous goodness and mercy in allowing the mother and child to meet again in this world.
During the meal Mrs. Littlefield asked Jack to tell the story of his wanderings, and he gave them in detail, not omitting an account of Farmer Pratt's determination to send them to the poor farm.
"I shall never be able to repay you for all you have done, my boy," Louis' mother said feelingly when the cripple concluded. "You are to go back with me, and I will take care that you have a good home."
Jack had nothing to say in regard to this.
It seemed only natural he should remain with Louis after all that had happened, but the idea of leaving the farm was not a pleasant one.
He had known Mrs. Littlefield only during such time as she was on shipboard, and while she had been kind to him it was as nothing compared with what he experienced during his stay with Aunt Nancy.
Very much was said regarding the children's adventures. Aunt Nancy was thanked over and over again for all her kindness, and then Louis' mother intimated that she would like to retire.
"I wish to leave here on the first train to-morrow morning, and have travelled so long that rest seems necessary now."
The little woman conducted her guest to another apartment, and then, with Jack's assistance, the kitchen was made tidy once more.
Louis was nestling in his mother's arms in the lavender-scented bed which Aunt Nancy kept especially for "company," and the little woman and Jack were under the big oak together for what both believed would be the last time.
"You must think sometimes, Jack dear, of the poor old maid who is sitting out here at this same hour wondering where in the big world her boy and baby are."
"There won't come a day or evening, Aunt Nancy, when I sha'n't think of you, and remember you are the best friend I or any other boy ever had. You see I can't say what is in my heart, but if I could you'd know I'd never forget how good you've been to me."
"The little I have done, Jack dear, was only my duty, and you have paid me a thousand fold for everything. I haven't been so contented for many years as since you came here, and but for the wrong committed when Mr. Pratt called I should have been perfectly happy."
"I'm glad you liked me," Jack said half to himself, "for if you hadn't I wouldn't have known what a real home was like. It kinder seems as if I belonged here."
"You do act the same as own folks, and I wonder if Mrs. Littlefield will take as much comfort with you as I have?"
"But I'm not goin' to stay at her house very long. When the captain comes home I shall get work on board the 'Atlanta' again. Folks won't keep me for an ornament, you know, an' I must earn my own livin'."
"Do you like to go to sea?"
"Well, there's some things about it that's pleasanter than stayin' ashore. The sailors are kinder than the boys in town, an' don't call me 'Hunchie,' or names of that sort."
Aunt Nancy remained silent, as if in deep thought, several moments, and then said abruptly, —
"You certainly ought to go to school a portion of the time, Jack dear."
"I s'pose I had, for I don't know scarcely anything, an' never had a chance to learn."
"Can you read?"
"If the words ain't too long; but in printin' there are so few short ones, that I don't seem to find out what the man who made it meant."
"I should have taught you instead of sitting here idle; but we couldn't have accomplished a great deal since you came."
"You've had enough to do without botherin' about me."
"But, Jack, you can do a great deal by yourself. Before you go away I want to give you a little money, and with some of it you must buy a school book. Then study a certain portion of it each day, until there is no difficulty in reading any ordinary print. After that will be time enough to take up other branches, and writing must come with the reading, as I shall look very anxiously for a letter in your own hand."
"I'll do the best I can, Aunt Nancy, but I don't want you to give me any money. You haven't much to spare, and that I know."
"I shall share it with you, Jack dear, and you mustn't make any objection, for after you have gone I shall feel better to know you are able to buy what little you may want."
Then Aunt Nancy drew from her pocket a small black book which she handed to the boy as she said in a low tone, —
"This was my father's Bible, and the print is so faint that I can no longer read it even with glasses."
"Hadn't you rather keep it? It was your father's."
"No, dear. I have one as you know, and this can be put to no better service than teaching you the right way. For my sake, Jack, become a good man. Shun evil company, and do unto others as you would they should do unto you. I haven't set a very good example in that way since you came here; but you have a better temper than I, and for that more is expected. Don't be tempted to tell a lie, and then you'll never feel as I have since Mr. Pratt called."
"I'll remember all you say, Aunt Nancy, and it would be a mighty ungrateful feller who'd do anything he thought would make you feel bad."
Then ensued another long interval of silence, during which the sun finished his work of painting the clouds, and had sunk behind the hills.
"It'll come pretty hard not to see you at night," Jack finally said thoughtfully.
"Will it, really?" the little woman asked eagerly.
"Of course," and Jack looked up in surprise that such a question should have been asked. "I don't s'pose I'll ever find a home as nice as this."
"And would you be willing to stay here?"
"Indeed I would if I could get work to pay my way."
"Don't you think it would be lonely when winter comes, and you would be obliged to remain a greater portion of the time in the house?"
"Not if you was here."
"Then, Jack, I am going to say something I thought ought not to be spoken of for fear you might do it simply to please me. Why not stay?"
"But I can't find any work 'round here, Aunt Nancy."
"You have contrived to get plenty from the first night I saw you. If this home seems pleasant there is no reason why you should leave it, and when the white winged messengers come to carry me to the Father, the little I leave behind shall be yours. It isn't much, Jack dear, but would keep you from want, and a delicate boy like you is not able to fight the hard world. If you were strong and well the case would be different."
Jack drew a long breath as if the pleasurable surprise was almost overpowering, and then asked slowly, —
"Do you really want me to live here?"
"Do I want you? If you say you will stay the pain which is now in my heart will go away in an instant, and I would be the happiest old woman in the State."
"Then there'll be two feelin' mighty good, Aunt Nancy, for I'm only too glad of the chance."
The little woman kissed him tenderly, which told better than words that the invitation really came from the heart.
Not until a late hour that night did the tiny woman and the cripple leave the bench under the old oak.
Aunt Nancy had many plans for the future, chief among which was giving Jack an education, and he speculated upon the possibility of tilling so much of the farm during the coming season as would give him a small income.
All this was so interesting that for the first time in her life Aunt Nancy came very near forgetting to search the house for supposed burglars.
"Mercy on us, Jack! It must be near midnight, and we haven't looked into a single room yet. I am so excited I hardly know what I'm about."
"I don't believe there would be any harm done if we didn't search the place for a week," Jack said with a merry laugh; "but we'll go through the motions all the same."
On the following morning there was very little opportunity for a lengthy conversation upon the change in the plans as arranged by Aunt Nancy and Jack.
When she made known the fact that the cripple would remain with her, Mrs. Littlefield approved heartily of it.
"I am positive he couldn't have a better home," she said, "and will take it upon myself to see he is not a burden. That much I owe him, if nothing more, for all he did to make my baby happy and comfortable."
"I am not a rich woman, Mrs. Littlefield," Aunt Nancy said with considerable dignity, "but I can care for the dear boy while I live."
This concluded the subject, for at that moment Daniel Chick arrived to take the visitor to the station, and Aunt Nancy and Jack could think of nothing save the parting with the little fellow they had learned to love so dearly.
Louis crowed and laughed at the prospect of a ride, and Aunt Nancy said sadly when he disappeared around the corner of the lane, —
"It almost seems as if he was glad to go away from us, Jack dear."
"I reckon the farm will be kinder lonesome for a day or two, but he's with his mother, an' that's where he belongs."
"Yes, dear, we mustn't repine. The day will soon come for me when I go away to my Father, and then you must think the same, for I shall be many times happier in the eternal city than the baby is now. It will be a lonely time for you, Jack dear, but only for a short while, after which the old maid and the cripple will be in the glory and splendor of God's own light."
Then Aunt Nancy kissed Jack affectionately as she drew him to the favorite seat, and, under the old oak where so many happy as well as sad hours have been spent, will we bid adieu to the hunchback and his best earthly friend.
