FARMER PARSONS' STORY.
"You will excuse me for troubling you," began Farmer Parsons, after
bowing several times to Mrs. Vernon and Robert. "But I thought I just
had to come in and tell you that I couldn't help a-doing of it."
"Couldn't help doing what?" questioned Mrs. Vernon, in perplexity.
"Giving him a sound trouncing, lady. I thought as how he deserved it,
I did."
"Whom did you whip?" asked Robert.
"Why, the lady's relative, of course!" cried the farmer, in surprise.
"Isn't he back yet?"
"No, we have seen nothing of him."
Farmer Parsons fell back in his chair in open-mouthed surprise.
"By Harry! then I suppose I've put my foot into it!" he gasped.
"Into what?" asked Robert, although he guessed at the truth.
"Why I--that is--you see I collared him on the road and I couldn't
help but give him the worst trouncing I guess he ever got in his life.
He threatened to have me locked up, so I thought I would come here and
explain matters."
"You caught Frederic Vernon up on the cliff road?" asked Mrs. Vernon.
"I did, madam--jest after he had up and scared your horses so that
they ran away."
"Then it was Frederic, beyond a doubt," murmured the lady faintly.
"He said as how he had done it only in fun," went on the English
farmer. "But I said it was mighty poor fun, and he deserved a
thrashing."
"And then you whipped him?" said Robert.
"No, I didn't trounce him until after he got impudent and told me to
shut up and mind my own affairs. I told him he might have killed both
on you."
"And what did he say to that?" asked our hero curiously.
"He said he knew what he was doing and I must keep my mouth shut, or
he would lay the whole thing off on to me. Then I up and knocked him
down, madam, and when he comes back it will be limping and with a
black eye. But I don't care," added the farmer defiantly. "He deserved
it."
"I do not blame you, Mr. Parsons," said Mrs. Vernon quietly. "It was
a--a mean thing for him to do."
"Some folks would have him arrested for it, madam."
"I do not doubt but that they would. Where did you leave my nephew?"
"I left him to find his way back to the village the best he could. But
before we parted I took this thing away from him. I was afraid if I
didn't he might shoot me."
Farmer Parsons reached into one of the deep pockets of his coat and
brought forth a nickel-plated revolver.
Mrs. Vernon received it gingerly and passed it over to Robert.
"Is it empty?" she asked.
"No, it has two cartridges still in it," answered the young secretary,
after an examination.
"I do not know what to do with it, Robert. I do not want it."
"I reckon I'll keep it for the present, Mrs. Vernon," said our hero,
and placed the pistol in his hip pocket.
The lady turned to Farmer Parsons.
"I do not blame you for what you have done," she said. "I imagine my
nephew got what he deserved. But I hate a family scandal, and I wish
you would not say anything about this matter unless I call upon you."
"As you will, madam; only I don't want no trouble----"
"You shall get into no trouble, Mr. Parsons; I will see to that. And
for coming here, I will pay you for your time."
Farmer Parsons wished to refuse, but he was a poor man with a large
family to support and he readily accepted the two pounds--about ten
dollars--which Mrs. Vernon tendered him.
"Very much obliged, madam," he said, as he bowed himself out. "But
take my advice and watch your nevvy--watch him closely, for he's a bad
un, he is!" And in a moment he was lumbering down the stairs again.
For several minutes after the farmer was gone Mrs. Vernon said
nothing. She began to pace the floor nervously. The last of her faith
in her graceless nephew was shattered.
"He is a villain, Robert," she said at last. "A villain in every sense
of the word. There does not seem to be a redeeming trait in his whole
character."
"Well, I wouldn't say that exactly, Mrs. Vernon. But one thing is
certain, he is too dangerous a character to be allowed to remain where
you are."
"You are right, and I shall send him off as you suggested."
"And if he won't go?"
"He will go--or else he shall go to jail."
For once Mrs. Vernon spoke firmly and in a manner that admitted of no
dispute. It took a long time to arouse her, but once aroused her
nature was a thoroughly stubborn one.
In the meantime Frederic Vernon had found his way to one of the
ale-houses of the village. As Farmer Parsons had said, he had suffered
a severe chastisement and he could scarcely walk. His chin and one eye
were much swollen, and his back felt as if it had been pounded into a
jelly.
"I'll get even with that man," he muttered. "I'd give a hundred
dollars to see him hanged!"
Entering the ale-house he called for a glass of liquor, and then
explained that he had suffered a severe fall from the cliff. As he had
spent considerable money in the resort the landlord was all attention
and led him to a side room, where he was given the chance to brush and
wash up. At the same time the landlord's wife sewed up several rents
in his coat and gave him a bit of court-plaster for a cut on his hand.
It must be confessed that Frederic Vernon was in a most unsettled
state of mind. He hardly knew whether he dared to go to his aunt or
not. From the landlord of the ale-house he learned that both Mrs.
Vernon and Robert had escaped without serious physical injury,
although the report was around that the lady was suffering from severe
shock.
"I must put on a bold front," he told himself at last. "After all, my
word is as good as that yokel's."
To put on a bold front, as he expressed it, Frederic Vernon drank
rather more than was good for him, and then with a swagger he made his
way to Mrs. Cabe's house that evening after supper.
"I want to see my aunt," he said to the landlady.
"Mrs. Vernon is not feeling very well," said Mrs. Cabe.
"I guess she will see me," he returned, and pushed past her and up to
Mrs. Vernon's apartment. Robert heard him coming, and the two met at
the door.
"What do you want?" asked our hero shortly. He saw at once that Vernon
was partly under the influence of liquor.
"None of your business," retorted the young man. "My business is with
my aunt."
"She is not well to-night."
"Then it is your fault, Frost. I heard all about how you let those
horses run away with her."
By this time Mrs. Vernon had come to the door, and Frederic Vernon
pushed his way into the room. Robert followed, and at the same time
his hand went into his pocket to feel if the pistol Farmer Parsons had
surrendered was still where he had placed it.
"Well, aunt, I've heard that you came close to losing your life this
noon," began Frederic Vernon.
"It is true," answered Mrs. Vernon coldly.
"You ought not to let that boy drive you out. He might have lost all
control and you would have been killed."
"It was not Robert's fault that the horses ran away."
"They wouldn't have run away had I been driving them."
"Frederic, I think it is about time that this farce came to an end.
You know well enough what made our team run away in the first place."
The young man drew back.
"Why--er----" he stammered.
"You scared them with your white sheet and the pistol."
"It's false, aunt. Was that yokel of an Englishman here with his lying
story?"
"Mr. Parsons was here, yes, and he told the truth, Frederic. You are
an out-and-out rascal. My eyes are open at last, and you shall no
longer deceive me."
As Mrs. Vernon spoke she faced the young man so sternly that he felt
compelled to fall back, while his eyes sought the floor.
"I--I never deceived you, aunt."
"You have deceived me from start to finish, Frederic. At first you
neglected my business and caused me several heavy losses. Then, when I
engaged Robert to take your place, you tried to get him into trouble
over my jewelry. After that you hired that Dr. Remington to aid you in
placing me in an insane asylum, and your plot might have proved a
success had I not left America. After that, running short of money,
you forged my name to a check for six hundred dollars. And now you
have finished up by trying to kill both Robert and me. Frederic, I am
done with you, and I never want you to come near me again."
As Mrs. Vernon concluded the tears started down her cheeks, and she
turned away to hide her emotions. Utterly dumfounded, Frederic Vernon
sank in an easy chair the picture of despair. He realized that
complete exposure had come at last, and he wondered what his rich
relative would do with him.