HOW POLKTOWN TOOK IT
That was a very serious Saturday night at the old Day house, as well as
at the Beaseley cottage. Aunt 'Mira had whispered to Janice before the
girl had set forth with her uncle in the afternoon:
"Bring him home to supper with ye, child--the poor young man! We got
to cheer him up, betwixt us. I'm goin' to have raised biscuits and
honey. He does dote on light bread."
But Nelson would not come. Janice had succeeded in encouraging him to
a degree; but the young schoolmaster was too seriously wounded, both in
his self-respect and at heart, to wish to mingle on this evening with
any of his fellow-townsmen--even those who were his declared friends
and supporters.
"Don't look for me at church to-morrow, either, Janice," the young man
said. "It may seem cowardly; but I cannot face all these people and
ignore this disgrace."
"It is _not_ disgrace, Nelson!" Janice cried hotly.
"It is, my dear girl. One does not have to be guilty to be disgraced
by such an accusation. I may be a coward; I don't know. At least, I
feel it too keenly to march into church to-morrow and know that
everybody is whispering about me. Why, Janice, I might break down and
make a complete fool of myself."
"Oh, no, Nelson!"
"I might. Even the children will know all about it and will stare at
me. I have to face them on Monday morning, and by that time I may have
recovered sufficient self-possession to ignore their glances and
whispers."
And with that decision Janice was obliged to leave him.
"The poor, foolish boy!" Aunt 'Mira said. "Don't he know we all air
sufferin' with him?"
But Uncle Jason seemed better to appreciate the schoolmaster's attitude.
"I don't blame him none. He's jest like a dog with a hurt paw--wants
ter crawl inter his kennel and lick his wounds. It's a tough
propersition, for a fac'."
"He needn't be afraid that the fellers will guy him," growled Marty.
"If they do, I'll lick 'em!"
"Oh, Marty! All of them?" cried Janice, laughing at his vehemence, yet
tearful, too.
"Well--all I _can_," declared her cousin. "And there ain't many I
can't, you bet."
"If you was as fond of work as ye be of fightin', Marty," returned Mr.
Day, drily, "you sartin sure'd be a wonderful feller."
"Ya-as," drawled his son but in a very low tone, "maw says I'm growin'
more'n more like you, every day."
"Marty," Janice put in quickly, before the bickering could go any
further, "did you see little Lottie? It was so late when I came out of
Mrs. Beaseley's, I ran right home."
"I seed her," her cousin said gloomily.
"How air her poor eyes?" asked Aunt 'Mira.
"They're not poor eyes. They're as good as anybody's eyes," Marty
cried, with exasperation.
"Wal--they say she's' goin' blind again," said tactless Aunt 'Mira.
"I say she ain't! She ain't!" ejaculated Marty. "All foolishness. I
don't believe a thing them doctors say. She's got just as nice eyes as
anybody'd want."
"That is true, Marty," Janice said soothingly; but she sighed.
The door was open, for the evening was mild. On the damp Spring breeze
the sound of a husky voice was wafted up the street and into the old
Day house.
"Hello!" grunted Uncle Jason, "who's this singin' bird a-comin' up the
hill? Tain't never Walky a-singin' like that, is it?"
"It's Walky; but it ain't him singin'," chuckled Marty.
"Huh?" queried Uncle Jason.
"It's Lem Parraday's whiskey that's doin' the singin'," explained the
boy. "Hi tunket! Listen to that ditty, will ye?"
"'I wish't I was a rock
A-settin' on a hill,
A-doin' nothin' all day long
But jest a-settin' still,'"
roared Walky, who was letting the patient Josephus take his own gait up
Hillside Avenue.
"For the Good Land o' Goshen!" cried Aunt 'Mira. "What's the matter o'
that feller? Has he taken leave of his senses, a-makin' of the night
higeous in that-a-way? Who ever told Walky Dexter 't he could sing?"
"It's what he's been drinking that's doing the singing, I tell ye,"
said her son.
"Poor Walky!" sighed Janice.
The expressman's complaint of his hard lot continued to rise in song:
"'I wouldn't eat, I wouldn't sleep,
I wouldn't even wash;
I'd jest set still a thousand years,
And rest myself, b'gosh!'"
"Whoa, Josephus!"
He had pulled the willing Josephus (willing at all times to stop) into
the open gateway of the old Day place. Marty went out on the porch to
hail him.
"'I wish I was a bump
A-settin' on a log,
Baitin' m' hook with a flannel shirt
For to ketch a frog!
"And when I'd ketched m' frog,
I'd rescue of m' bait--
An' what a mess of frog's hind laigs
I _wouldn't_ have ter ate!'"
"Come on in, Walky, and rest your voice."
"You be gittin' to be a smart young chap, Marty," proclaimed Walky,
coming slowly up the steps with a package for Mrs. Day and his book to
be signed.
The odor of spirits was wafted before him. Walky's face was as round
and red as an August full moon.
"How-do, Janice," he said. "What d'yeou think of them fule
committeemen startin' this yarn abeout Nelson Haley?"
"What do folks say about it, Walky?" cut in Mr. Day, to save his niece
the trouble of answering.
"Jest erbeout what you'd think they would," the philosophical
expressman said, shaking his head. "Them that's got venom under their
tongues, must spit it aout if they open their lips at all. Polktown's
jest erbeout divided--the gossips in one camp and the kindly talkin'
people in t'other. One crowd says Mr. Haley would steal candy from a
blind baby, an' t'other says his overcoat fits him so tight across't
the shoulders 'cause his wings is sproutin'. Haw! haw! haw!"
"And what d' ye say, Mr. Dexter?" asked Aunt 'Mira, bluntly.
The expressman puckered his lips into a curious expression. "I tell ye
what," he said. "Knowin' Mr. Haley as I do, I'm right sure he's
innercent as the babe unborn. But, jefers-pelters! who _could_ ha'
done it?"
"Why, Walky!" gasped Janice.
"I know. It sounds awful, don't it?" said the expressman. "I don't
whisper a word of this to other folks. But considerin' that the
schoolhouse doors was locked and Mr. Haley had the only other key
besides the janitor, who air Massey and them others goin' to blame for
the robbery?"
"They air detarmined to save their own hides if possible," Uncle Jason
grumbled.
"Natcherly--natcherly," returned Walky. "We know well enough none o'
them four men of the School Committee took the coins, nor Benny Thread,
neither. They kin all swear alibi for each other and sartain sure they
didn't all conspire ter steal the money and split it up 'twixt 'em.
Haw! haw! haw! 'Twouldn't hardly been wuth dividin' into five parts,"
he added, his red face all of a grin.
"That sounds horrid, Mr. Dexter," said Aunt 'Mira.
"Wal, it's practical sense," the expressman said, wagging his head.
"It's a problem for one o' them smart detecatifs ye read abeout in the
magazines--one o' them like they have in stories. I read abeout one of
'em in a story. Yeou leave him smell the puffumery on a gal's
handkerchief and he'll tell right away whether she was a blonde or a
brunette, an' what size glove she wore! Haw! haw! haw!
"This ain't no laughing matter, Walky," Mr. Day said, with a side
glance at Janice.
"Better laff than cry," declared Walky. "Howsomever, folks seed Mr.
Haley go into the schoolhouse and come out ag'in----"
"He told the committee he had been there," Janice interrupted.
"That's right, too. Mebbe not so many folks would ha' knowed they'd
seen him there if he hadn't up and said so. Proberbly there was ha'f a
dozen other folks hangin' abeout the schoolhouse, too, at jest the time
the coin collection was stole; but they ain't remembered 'cause they
didn't up and tell on themselves."
"Oh, Walky!" gasped the girl, startled by the suggestion.
"Wal," drawled the expressman, in continuation, "that ain't no good to
us, for nobody had a key to the door but him and Benny Thread."
"I wonder----" murmured Janice; but said no more.
"It's a scanderlous thing," Walky pursued, receiving his book back and
preparing to join Josephus at the gate. "Goin' ter split things wide
open in Polktown, I reckon. 'Twill be wuss'n a church row 'fore it
finishes. Already there's them that says we'd oughter have another
teacher in Mr. Haley's place."
"Oh, my!" cried Aunt 'Mira.
"Ain't willin' ter give the young feller a chance't at all, heh?" said
Mr. Day, puffing hard at his pipe. "Wall! we'll see abeout _that_."
"We'd never have a better teacher, I tell 'em," Walky flung back over
his shoulder. "But Mr. Haley's drawin' a good salary and there's them
that think it oughter go ter somebody that belongs here in Polktown,
not to an outsider like him."
"Hi tunket!" cried Marty, after Walky had gone. "There ye have it.
Miss Pearly Breeze, that used ter substi-_toot_ for 'Rill Scattergood,
has wanted the school ever since Mr. Haley come. She'd do fine tryin'
to be principal of a graded school--I don't think!"
"Oh, don't talk so, I beg of you," Janice said. "Of course Nelson
won't lose his school. If he did, under these circumstances, he could
never go to Millhampton College to teach. Why! perhaps his career as a
teacher would be irrevocably ruined."
"Now, don't ye take on so, Janice," cried Aunt 'Mira, with her arm
about the girl. "It won't be like that. It _can't_ be so bad--can it,
Jason?"
"We mustn't let it go that fur," declared her spouse, fully aroused
now. "Consarn Walky Dexter, anyway! I guess, as Marty says, what he
puts in his mouth talks as well as sings for him.
"I snum!" added the farmer, shaking his head. "I dunno which is the
biggest nuisance, an ill-natered gossip or a good-natered one. Walky
claims ter feel friendly to Mr. Haley, and then comes here with all the
unfriendly gossip he kin fetch. Huh! I ain't got a mite o' use fer
sech folks."
Uncle Jason was up, pacing the kitchen back and forth in his stocking
feet. He was much stirred over Janice's grief. Aunt 'Mira was in
tears, too. Marty went out on the porch, ostensibly for a pail of
fresh water, but really to cover his emotion.
None of them could comfortably bear the sight of Janice's tears. As
Marty started the pump a boy ran into the yard and up the steps.
"Hullo, Jimmy Gallagher, what you want?" demanded Marty.
"I'm after Janice Day. Got a note for her," said the urchin.
"Hey, Janice!" called her cousin; but the young girl was already out on
the porch.
"What is it, Jimmy? Has Nelson----"
"Here's a note from Miz' Drugg. Said for me to give it to ye," said
the boy, as he clattered down the steps again.