Kitabı oku: «Jack the Hunchback: A Story of Adventure on the Coast of Maine», sayfa 8
"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."
"What does he say about it?"
"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?"
"Day after to-morrow."
"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."
This brief conversation had no effect on Jack, nor would he have thought it an important matter if Mr. Chick had attempted to prove the little woman was wrong. His faith in Aunt Nancy was so great that whatever she said was to him a truth not to be disputed.
On arriving at the depot it was learned they were fully an hour too early for the train, and Jack mourned the fact that he might have remained at home long enough to put the barn in better order.
It was a large party who intended to make the journey on this morning, and to Jack's dismay he saw Bill Dean and his particular friends arrive about half an hour before the time for leaving.
If it had been possible he would have remained out of sight; but the station was small, and Aunt Nancy insisted he should stand where she could keep her eyes on him, consequently it was not many moments before Master Dean recognized him.
"Oh, dear! is he going? and must we be in fear and trembling of him all the time we stay?" Aunt Nancy said pathetically as she saw the three boys approaching. "Keep close to me, Jack dear, and if he attempts any mischief I'll appeal for help to Deacon Downs."
Bill, however, did not intend to commit any overt act while there were so many around who would not hesitate about dealing out justice to him without delay.
He contented himself by walking slowly around Aunt Nancy and Jack, as he said to Jip Lewis, —
"I didn't think we stood so much of a chance to have a good time at camp meetin' this year. Here's Hunchie with the old maid, and we'll see that they don't get lonesome."
Fortunately Aunt Nancy did not hear him, otherwise she might have said something which would have provoked further and louder threats.
Jack, however, could distinguish every word, and before the three tormentors finished their promenade he regretted having accompanied the little woman.
"I ain't afraid they'll get very much the best of me," he said to himself; "but there isn't goin' to be a great deal of fun if I've got to keep my eyes open for them all the time."
