Mr. ALGERNON JONES
Again was it Monday, with the Ladies Aid Society in session. Jimmy was
sitting on the grass in his own front yard, in full view of Sarah Jane,
who was ironing clothes in her cabin with strict orders to keep him at
home. Billy was in the swing in Miss Minerva's yard.
“Come on over,” he invited.
“I can't,” was the reply across the fence, “I'm so good now I 'bout got
'ligion; I reckon I'm going to be a mish'nary or a pol'tician, one or
t' other when I'm a grownup man 'cause I'm so good; I ain't got but five
whippings this week. I been good ever since I let you 'suade me to play
Injun. I'm the goodest little boy in this town, I 'spec'. Sometimes
I get scared 'bout being so good 'cause I hear a woman say if you too
good, you going to die or you ain't got no sense, one. You come on over
here; you ain't trying to be good like what I'm trying, and Miss Minerva
don't never do nothing a tall to you 'cepting put you to bed.”
“I'd ruther to git whipped fifty hunderd times 'n to hafter go to bed
in the daytime with Aunt Minerva lookin' at you. An' her specs can see
right th'oo you plumb to the bone. Naw, I can't come over there 'cause
she made me promise not to. I ain't never go back on my word yit.”
“I hope mama won't never ask me to promise her nothing a tall, 'cause
I'm mighty curious 'bout forgetting. I 'spec' I'm the most forgettingest
little boy they is. But I'm so glad I'm so good. I ain't never going to
be bad no more; so you might just as well quit begging me to come over
and swing, you need n't ask me no more,--'tain't no use a tall.”
“I ain't a-begging you,” cried Billy contemptuously, “you can set on yo'
mammy's grass where you is, an' be good from now tell Jedgement Day an'
'twon't make no change in my business.”
“I ain't going to be 'ticed into no meanness, 'cause I'm so good,”
continued the reformed one, after a short silence during which he had
seen Sarah Jane turn her back to him, “but I don't b'lieve it'll be
no harm jus' to come over and set in the swing with you; maybe I can
'fluence you to be good like me and keep you from 'ticing little boys
into mischief. I think I'll just come over and set a while and help you
to be good,” and he started to the fence. Sarah Jane turned around in
time to frustrate his plans.
“You git right back, Jimmy,” she yelled, “you git erway f'om dat-ar
fence an' quit confabbin' wid datar Willyum. Fixin' to make some mo'
Injuns out o' yo'selfs, ain't yeh, or some yuther kin' o' skeercrows?”
Billy strolled to the other side of the big yard and climbed up and sat
on the tall gate post. A stranger, coming from the opposite direction,
stopped and spoke to him.
“Does Mr. John Smith live here?” he asked.
“Naw, sir,” was the reply; “don't no Mr. 'tall live here; jest me an'
Aunt Minerva, an' she turns up her nose at anything that wears pants.”
“And where could I find your Aunt Minerva?” the stranger's grin was
ingratiating and agreeable.
“Why, this here's Monday,” the little boy exclaimed. “Of course she's at
the Aid; all the 'omans roun' here goes to the Aid on Monday.”
“Your aunt is an old friend of mine,” went on the man, “and I knew she
was at the Aid. I just wanted to find out if you'd tell the truth about
her. Some little boys tell stories, but I am glad to find out you are so
truthful. My name is Mr. Algernon Jones and I'm glad to know you. Shake!
Put it there, partner,” and the fascinating stranger held out a grimy
paw.
Billy smiled down from his perch at him and thought he had never met
such a pleasant man. If he was such an old friend of his aunt's maybe
she would not object to him because he wore pants, he thought. Maybe she
might be persuaded to take Mr. Jones for a husband. Billy almost
hoped that she would hurry home from the Aid, he wanted to see the two
together so.
“Is you much of a cusser?” he asked solemnly, “'cause if you is you'll
hafter cut it out on these premises.”
Mr. Jones seemed much surprised and hurt at the question.
“An oath never passed these lips,” replied the truthful gentleman.
“Can you churn?”
“Churn--churn?” with a reminiscent smile, “I can churn like a top.”
Jimmy was dying of curiosity but the gate was too far away for him to
do more than catch a word now and then. It was also out of Sarah Jane's
visual line, so she knew nothing of the stranger's advent.
“And you're here all by yourself?” insinuated Billy's new friend. “And
the folks next door, where are they?”
“Mrs. Garner's at the Aid an' Mr. Garner's gone to Memphis. That is they
little boy a-settin' in they yard on they grass,” answered the child.
“I've come to fix your Aunt Minerva's water pipe,” said truth-loving Mr.
Jones. “Come, show me the way; I'm the plumber.”
“In the bath-room?” asked the child. “I did n' know it needed no
fixin'.”
He led the agreeable plumber through the hall, down the long back-porch
to the bathroom, remarking “I'll jes' watch you work.” And he seated
himself in the only chair.
Here is where Billy received one of the greatest surprises of his life.
The fascinating stranger grabbed him with a rough hand and hissed:
“Don't you dare open your mouth or I'll crack your head open and scatter
your brains. I'll eat you alive.”
The fierce, bloodshot eyes, which had seemed so laughing and merry
before, now glared into those of the little boy as the man took a stout
cord from his pocket, bound Billy to the chair, and gagged him with
a large bath towel. Energetic Mr. Jones took the key out of the door,
shook his fist at the child, went out, and locked the door behind him.
Jimmy, seeing no hope of eluding Sarah Jane's vigilance, resorted to
strategy and deceit.
“'Tain't no fun setting out here,” he called to her, “so I 'm going in
the house and take a nap.”
She willingly consented, as she was through with her ironing and thought
to snatch a few winks of sleep herself.
The little boy slipped quietly through the house, noiselessly across
the back-yard and into his father's big garden, which was separated
from that of his neighbor by a high board-fence. He quickly climbed the
fence, flew across Miss Minerva's tomato patch and tiptoed up her back
steps to the back porch, his little bare feet giving no sign of his
presence. Hearing curious noises coming from the bad-room, where Billy
was bumping the chair up and down in his efforts to release his mouth,
he made for that spot, promptly unlocked the door, and walked in. Billy
by scuffling and tugging had freed his mouth from the towel that bound
it at that moment.
“Hush!” he whispered as Jimmy opened the door, “you'll get eat up alive
if you don't look out.” His tone was so mysterious and thrilling and he
looked so scared tied to the chair that the younger boy's blood almost
froze in his veins.
“What you doing all tied up so?” he asked in low, frightened tones.
“Mr. Algernon Jones done it. I spec' he's a robber an' is jes'
a-robberin' right now,” answered Billy.
“I'll untie you,” said his chum.
“Naw; you better not,” said Billy bravely. “He might git away. You leave
me jes' like he fixed me so's you can try to ketch him. I hear him in
the dinin'-room now. You leave me right here an' step over to yo' house
an' 'phone to some mens to come and git him quick. Shet the do' ag'in
an' don't make no noise. Fly, now!”
And Jimmy did fly. He again took the garden route and in a minute was at
the telephone with the receiver at his ear.
“Hello! Is that you, Miss Central? This is me,” he howled into the
transmitter. “Gimme Miss Minerva's beau. I don't know his number, but
he's got a office over my papa's bank.”
His father being out of town, the little boy shrewdly decided that Miss
Minerva's beau was the next best man to help capture the robber.
“Miss Minerva what lives by me,” he shrieked.
Fortunately Central recognized his childish voice and was willing to
humor him, so as she too knew Miss Minerva's beau. The connection was
quickly made.
“Hello! Is that you, Major? This is me. If you don't want Mr. Algernon
Jones to be robbering everything Miss Minerva's got you better get a
move on and come right this minute. You got to hustle and bring 'bout a
million pistols and guns and swords and tomahawks and all the mans you
can find and dogs. He's the fiercest robber ever was, and he's already
done tie Billy to a bath-room chair and done eat up 'bout a million cold
biscuits, I spec'. All of us is 'bout to be slewed. Good-bye.”
The plump, round gentleman at the other end of the wire heard
this amazing message in the utmost confusion and consternation. He
frantically rang the telephone again and again but could get no answer
from the Garners' home so he put on his hat and walked the short
distance to Miss Minerva's house.
Jimmy was waiting to receive him at the front gate, having again eluded
Sarah Jane's vigilance.
“Hush!” he whispered mysteriously, “he's in the dining-room. Ain't you
bringed nobody else? Get your pistol and come on.”
Mr. Algernon Jones, feeling safe and secure for the next hour and having
partaken of a light lunch, was in the act of transferring some silver
spoons from the sideboard to his pockets when a noise at the dining-room
door caused him to look in that direction. With an oath he sprang
forward, and landed his fist upon the nose of a plump gentleman standing
there, bringing a stream of blood and sending him sprawling to the
floor. Mr. Jones overturned a big-eyed little boy who was in his way
and, walking rapidly in the direction of the railroad, the erstwhile
plumber was seen no more.
Jimmy quickly recovered himself and sprang to his feet. Seeing the blood
streaming down the white shirt front of Miss Minerva's unconscious beau,
he gathered his wits together and took the thread of events again into
his own little hands. He flung himself over the fence, careless of Sarah
Jane this time, mounted a chair and once more rang the telephone.
“Hello! Is that you, Miss Central? This is me some more. Gimme Doctor
Sanford's office, please.”
“Hello! Is that you, Doctor? This is me. Mr. Algernon Jones done kilt
Miss Minerva's beau. He's on her back-porch bloody all over. He's 'bout
the deadest man they is. You 'd better come toreckly you can and bring
the hearse, and a coffin and a clean shirt and a tombstone. He's wounded
me but I ain't dead yet. Good-bye.”
Doctor Sanford received Jimmy's crazy message in astonishment. He, too,
rang the telephone again and again but could hear nothing more, so he
walked down to Miss Minerva's house and rang the door-bell. Jimmy opened
the door and led the way to the back-porch, where the injured man, who
had just recovered consciousness, was sitting limply in a chair.
“What does all this mean? Are you hurt?” asked the Doctor as he examined
Mr. Jones's victim.
“No, I think I'm all right now,” was the reply; “but that scoundrel
certainly gave me a severe blow.”
Billy, shut up in the bath-room and listening to all the noise and
confusion, had been scared nearly out of his senses. He had kept as
still as a mouse till now, when, thinking he heard friendly voices he
yelled out, “Open the do' an' untie me.”
“We done forgot Billy,” said the little rescuer, as he ran to the
bath-room door and opened it. He was followed by the Doctor, who cut the
cords that bound the prisoner.
“Now, William,” commanded Doctor Sanford as they grouped themselves
around the stout, plump gentleman in the chair, “begin at the beginning,
and let us get at the bottom of this affair.”
“Mr. Algernon Jones he come to the gate,” explained the little boy, “an'
he say he goin' to fix the water pipe an' he say he's a plumber. He's a
very 'greeable man, but I don't want Aunt Minerva to marry him, now. I
was plumb tickled at him an' I tuck him to the bath-room an' fust thing
I knowed he grabbed holter me an' shuck me like what you see a cat do a
mouse, an' he say--”
“And he'd more 'n a million whiskers,” interrupted Jimmy, who thought
Billy was receiving too much attention, “and he--”
“One at a time,” said the Doctor. “Proceed, William.”
“An' he say he'll bust my brains outer my head if I holler, an' I ain't
a-goin' to holler neither, an' he tie me to a chair an' tie my mouth up
an' lock the do'--”
“And I comed over,” said Jimmy eagerly, “and I run home and I see Mr.
Algernon Jones is a robber and I 'phoned to Miss Minerva's beau, and
if he'd brunged what I telled him, he wouldn't never got cracked in the
face like Mr. Algernon Jones done crack him, and Billy got to all time
let robbers in the house so they can knock mans and little boys down.”
“While you stand talking here the scoundrel will get away,” said the
injured man.
“That is so,” agreed Doctor Sanford, “so I'll go and find the Sheriff.”
Sarah Jane's huge form loomed up in the back-hall doorway, and she
grabbed Jimmy by the arm.
“Yaas,” she cried, “you gwine take you a nap is yuh, yuh 'ceitful
caterpillar. Come on home dis minute.”
“Lemme go, Sarah Jane,” protested the little boy, trying to jerk away
from her, “I got to stay here and pertec' Billy and Miss Minerva's beau
'cause they's a robber might come back and tie 'em up and make 'em bleed
if I ain't here.”
“Did Mr. Algernon Jones make all that blood?” asked an awe-stricken
little boy gazing in admiration at the victim of Mr. Jones's energy.
“You sho' is a hero to stan' up an' let him knock you down like he
done.”
“Yes,” cried Jimmy, as the black woman dragged him kicking and
struggling through the hall, “we's all heroes, but I bet I'm the heroest
hero they is, and I bet Miss Minerva's going to be mad 'bout you all
spilling all that blood on her nice clean floor.”
“Lemme see yo' big toe what was shot off by all them Yankees and Injuns
what you killed in the war,” said Billy to Miss Minerva's beau.
The Major smiled at the little boy; a man-to-man smile, full of good
comradeship, humor, and understanding. Billy's little heart went out to
him at once.
“I can't take off my shoes at present,” said the veteran. “Well, I must
be going; I feel all right now.”
Billy looked at him with big, solemn eyes.
“You couldn't never go 'thout yo' pants, could you?” he asked, “'cause
Aunt Minerva jest nachelly despises pants.”
The man eyed him quizzically.
“Well, no; I don't think I could,” he replied; “I don't think I'd look
any better in a Mother Hubbard or a kimono.”
The little boy sighed.
“Which you think is the fitteness name,” asked he, “Billy or William.”
“Billy, Billy,” enthusiastically came the reply.
“I like mens,” said William Green Hill, “I sho' wisht you could come and
live right here with me and Aunt Minerva.”
“I wish so, too,” said the Major.