STARTLING NEWS.
Fred Sheldon was the only child of a widow, who lived on a small place
a mile beyond the village, and managed to eke out a living thereon,
assisted by a small pension from the government, her husband having
been killed during the late war.
A half-mile beyond stood a large building, gray with age and surrounded
with trees, flowers and climbing vines. The broad bricks of which it
was composed were known to have been brought from Holland long before
the revolution, and about the time when George Washington was hunting
for the cherry-tree with his little hatchet.
In this old structure lived the sisters Perkinpine--Annie and
Lizzie--who were nearly seventy years of age. They were twins, had
never been married, were generally known to be wealthy, but preferred
to live entirely by themselves, with no companion but three or four
cats, and not even a watch-dog.
Their ancestors were among the earliest settlers of the section, and
the Holland bricks could show where they had been chipped and broken by
the bullets of the Indians who howled around the solid old structure,
through the snowy night, as ravenous as so many wolves to reach the
cowering women and children within.
The property had descended to the sisters in regular succession,
and there could be no doubt they were rich in valuable lands, if in
nothing else. Their retiring disposition repelled attention from their
neighbors, but it was known there was much old and valuable silver, and
most probably money itself, in the house.
Michael Heyland was their hired man, but he lived in a small house some
distance away, where he always spent his nights.
Young Fred Sheldon was once sent over to the residence of the Misses
Perkinpine after a heavy snowstorm, to see whether he could do anything
for the old ladies. He was then only ten years old, but his handsome,
ruddy face, his respectful manner, and his cheerful eagerness to oblige
them, thawed a great deal of their natural reserve, and they gradually
came to like him.
He visited the old brick house quite often, and frequently bore
substantial presents to his mother, though, rather curiously, the old
ladies never asked that she should pay them a visit.
The Misses Perkinpine lived very well indeed, and Fred Sheldon was
not long in discovering it. When he called there he never could get
away without eating some of the vast hunks of gingerbread and enormous
pieces of thick, luscious pie, of which Fred, like all boys, was very
fond.
There was no denying that Fred had established himself as a favorite in
that peculiar household, as he well deserved to be.
On the afternoon succeeding his switching at school he reached home
and did his chores, whistling cheerily in the meanwhile, and thinking
of little else than the great circus on the morrow, when he suddenly
stopped in surprise upon seeing a carriage standing in front of the
gate.
Just then his mother called him to the house and explained:
"Your Uncle William is quite ill, Fred, and has sent for me. You know
he lives twelve miles away, and it will take us a good while to get
there; if you are afraid to stay here alone you can go with us."
Fred was too quick to trip himself in that fashion. To-morrow was
circus day, and if he went to his Uncle Will's, he might miss it.
"Miss Annie asked me this morning to go over and see them again," he
said, alluding to one of the Misses Perkinpine, "and they'll be mighty
glad to have me there."
"That will be much better, for you will be so near home that you can
come over in the morning and see that everything is right, but I'm
afraid you'll eat too much pie and cake and pudding and preserves."
"I ain't afraid," laughed Fred, who kissed his mother good-by and
saw the carriage vanish down the road in the gloom of the gathering
darkness. Then he busied himself with the chores, locked up the house
and put everything in shape preparatory to going away.
He was still whistling, and was walking rapidly toward the gate, when
he was surprised and a little startled by observing the figure of a
man, standing on the outside, as motionless as a stone, and no doubt
watching him.
He appeared to be ill-dressed, and Fred at once set him down as one of
those pests of society known as a tramp, who had probably stopped to
get something to eat.
"What do you want?" asked the lad, with an air of bravery which he
was far from feeling, as he halted within two or three rods of the
unexpected guest, ready to retreat if it should become necessary.
"I want you to keep a civil tongue in your head," was the answer, in a
harsh rasping voice.
"I didn't mean to be uncivil," was the truthful reply of Fred, who
believed in courtesy to every one.
"Who lives here, then?" asked the other in the same gruff voice.
"My mother, Mrs. Mary Sheldon, and myself, but my mother isn't at home."
The stranger was silent a moment, and then looking around, as if to
make sure that no one was within hearing, asked in a lower voice:
"Can you tell me where the Miss Perkinpines live?"
"Right over yonder," was the response of the boy, pointing toward the
house, which was invisible in the darkness, but a star-like twinkle of
light showed where it was, surrounded by trees and shrubbery.
Fred came near adding that he was on his way there, and would show him
the road, but a sudden impulse restrained him.
The tramp-like individual peered through the gloom in the direction
indicated, and then inquired:
"How fur is it?"
"About half a mile."
The stranger waited another minute or so, as if debating with himself
whether he should ask some other questions that were in his mind; but,
without another word, he moved away and speedily disappeared from the
road.
Although he walked for several paces on the rough gravel in front of
the gate, the lad did not hear the slightest sound. He must have been
barefooted, or more likely, wore rubber shoes.
Fred Sheldon could not help feeling very uncomfortable over the
incident itself. The question about the old ladies, and the man's looks
and manner impressed him that he meant ill toward his good friends, and
Fred stood a long time asking himself what he ought to do.
He thought of going down to the village and telling Archie Jackson, the
bustling little constable, what he feared, or of appealing to some of
the neighbors; and pity it is he did not do so, but he was restrained
by the peculiar disposition of the Misses Perkinpine, who might be very
much displeased with him.
As he himself was about the only visitor they received, and as they
had lived so long by themselves, they would not thank him, to say the
least--that is, viewing the matter from his standpoint.
"I'll tell the ladies about it," he finally concluded, "and we'll lock
the doors and sit up all night. I wish they had three or four dogs and
a whole lot of guns; or if I had a lasso," he added, recalling one of
the circus pictures, "and the tramp tried to get in, I'd throw it over
his head and pull him half way to the top of the house and let him hang
there until he promised to behave himself."
Fred's head had been slightly turned by the circus posters, and it can
hardly be said that he was the best guard the ladies could have in case
there were any sinister designs on the part of the tramp.
But the boy was sure he was never more needed at the old brick house
than he was on that night, and hushing his whistle, he started up the
road in the direction taken by the stranger.
It was a trying ordeal for the little fellow, whose chief fear was that
he would overtake the repulsive individual and suffer for interfering
with his plans.
There was a faint moon in the sky, but its light now and then was
obscured by the clouds which floated over its face. Here and there,
too, were trees, beneath whose shadows the boy stepped lightly,
listening and looking about him, and imagining more than once he saw
the figure dreaded so much.
But he observed nothing of him, nor did he meet any of his neighbors,
either in wagons or on foot, and his heart beat tumultuously when he
drew near the grove of trees, some distance back from the road, in the
midst of which stood the old Holland brick mansion.
To reach it it was necessary to walk through a short lane, lined on
either hand by a row of stately poplars, whose shade gave a cool
twilight gloom to the intervening space at mid-day.
"Maybe he isn't here, after all," said Fred to himself, as he passed
through the gate of the picket fence surrounding the house, "and I
guess----"
Just then the slightest possible rustling caught his ear, and he
stepped back behind the trunk of a large weeping willow.
He was not mistaken; some one was moving through the shrubbery at the
corner of the house, and the next minute the frightened boy saw the
tramp come stealthily to view, and stepping close to the window of the
dining-room, peer into it.
As the curtain was down it was hard to see how he could discover
anything of the inmates, but he may have been able to detect something
of the interior by looking through at the side of the curtain, or
possibly he was only listening.
At any rate he stood thus but a short time, when he withdrew and slowly
passed from view around the corner.
The instant he was gone Fred moved forward and knocked softly on the
door, so softly indeed, that he had to repeat it before some one
approached from the inside and asked who was there.
When his voice was recognized the bolt was withdrawn and he was most
cordially welcomed by the old ladies, who were just about to take up
their knitting and sewing, having finished their tea.
When Fred told them he had come to stay all night and hadn't had any
supper, they were more pleased than ever, and insisted that he should
go out and finish a large amount of gingerbread, custard and pie, for
the latter delicacy was always at command.
"I'll eat some," replied Fred, "but I don't feel very hungry."
"Why, what's the matter?" asked Miss Annie, peering over her spectacles
in alarm; "are you sick? If you are we've got lots of castor oil and
rhubarb and jalap and boneset; shall I mix you up some?"
"O my gracious! no--don't mention 'em again; I ain't sick that way--I
mean I'm scared."
"Scared at what? Afraid there isn't enough supper for you?" asked Miss
Lizzie, looking smilingly down upon the handsome boy.
"I tell you," said Fred, glancing from one to the other, "I think
there's a robber going to try and break into your house to-night and
steal everything you've got, and then he'll kill you both, and after
that I'm sure he means to burn down the house, and that'll be the last
all of you and your cats."
When the young visitor made such a prodigious declaration, he supposed
the ladies would scream and probably faint away. But the very hugeness
of the boy's warning caused emotions the reverse of what he anticipated.
They looked kindly at him a minute or so and then quietly smiled.
"What a little coward you are, Fred," said Miss Annie; "surely there is
nobody who would harm two old creatures like us."
"But they want your money," persisted Fred, still standing in the
middle of the floor.
Both ladies were too truthful to deny that they had any, even to such a
child, and Lizzie said:
"We haven't enough to tempt anybody to do such a great wrong."
"You can't tell about that, then I 'spose some of those silver dishes
must be worth a great deal."
"Yes, so they are," said Annie, "and we prize them the most because our
great, great, great-grandfather brought them over the sea a good many
years ago, and they have always been in our family."
"But," interposed Lizzie, "we lock them up every night."
"What in?"
"A great big strong chest."
"Anybody could break it open, though."
"Yes, but it's locked; and you know it's against the law to break a
lock."
"Well," said Fred, with a great sigh, "I hope there won't anybody
disturb you, but I hope you will fasten all the windows and doors
to-night."
"We always do; and then," added the benign old lady, raising her head
so as to look under her spectacles in the face of the lad, "you know we
have you to take care of us."
"Have you got a gun in the house?"
"Mercy, yes; there's one over the fire-place, where father put it forty
years ago."
"Is there anything the matter with it?"
"Nothing, only the lock is broke off, and I think father said the
barrel was bursted."
Fred laughed in spite of himself.
"What under the sun is such an old thing good for?"
"It has done us just as much good as if it were a new cannon--but come
out to your supper."
The cheerful manner of the old ladies had done much to relieve Fred's
mind of his fears, and a great deal of his natural appetite came back
to him.
He walked into the kitchen, where he seated himself at a table on which
was spread enough food for several grown persons, and telling him he
must not leave any of it to be wasted, the ladies withdrew, closing the
door behind them, so that he might not be embarrassed by their presence.
"I wonder whether there's any use of being scared," said Fred to
himself, as he first sunk his big, sound teeth into a huge slice of
buttered short-cake, on which some peach jam had been spread! "If I
hadn't seen that tramp looking in at the window I wouldn't feel so
bad, and I declare," he added in dismay, "when they questioned me, I
never thought to tell 'em that. Never mind, I'll give 'em the whole
story when I finish five or six slices of this short-cake and some
ginger-cake, and three or four pieces of pie, and then, I think,
they'll believe I'm right."
For several minutes the boy devoted himself entirely to his meal, and
had the good ladies peeped through the door while he was thus employed
they would have been highly pleased to see how well he was getting
along.
"I wish I was an old maid and hadn't anything to do but to cook nice
food like this and play with the cats--my gracious!"
Just then the door creaked, and, looking up, Fred Sheldon saw to his
consternation the very tramp of whom he had been thinking walk into the
room and approach the table.
His clothing was ragged and unclean, a cord being drawn around his
waist to keep his coat together, while the collar was up so high about
his neck that nothing of the shirt was visible.
His hair was frowsy and uncombed, as were his huge yellow whiskers,
which seemed to grow up almost to his eyes, and stuck out like the
quills on a porcupine.
As the intruder looked at the boy and shuffled toward him, in his soft
rubber shoes, he indulged in a broad grin, which caused his teeth to
shine through his scraggly beard.
He held his hat, which resembled a dishcloth, as much as anything, in
his hand, and was all suavity.
His voice sounded as though he had a bad cold, with now and then an odd
squeak. As he bowed he said:
"Good evening, young man; I hope I don't intrude."
As he approached the table and helped himself to a chair, the ladies
came along behind him, Miss Lizzie saying:
"This poor man, Frederick, has had nothing to eat for three days, and
is trying to get home to his family. I'm sure you will be glad to have
him sit at the table with you."
"Yes, I'm awful glad," replied the boy, almost choking with the fib. "I
was beginning to feel kind of lonely, but I'm through and he can have
the table to himself."
"You said you were a shipwrecked sailor, I believe?" was the inquiring
remark of Miss Lizzie, as the two sisters stood in the door, beaming
kindly on the tramp, who began to play havoc with the eatables before
him.
"Yes, mum; we was shipwrecked on the Jarsey coast; I was second mate
and all was drowned but me. I hung to the rigging for three days and
nights in the awfullest snow storm you ever heard of."
"Mercy goodness," gasped Annie; "when was that?"
"Last week," was the response, as the tramp wrenched the leg of a
chicken apart with hands and teeth.
"Do they have snow storms down there in summer time?" asked Fred, as he
moved away from the table.
The tramp, with his mouth full of meat, and with his two hands grasping
the chicken-bone between his teeth, stopped work and glared at the
impudent youngster, as if he would look him through and through for
daring to ask the question.
"Young man," said he, as he solemnly resumed operations, "of course,
they have snow storms down there in summer time; I'm ashamed of your
ignorance; you're rather small to put in when grown-up folks are
talking, and I'd advise you to listen arter this."
Fred concluded he would do so, using his eyes meanwhile.
"Yes, mum," continued the tramp; "I was in the rigging for three days
and nights, and then was washed off by the breakers and carried ashore,
where I was robbed of all my clothing, money and jewels."
"Deary, deary me!" exclaimed the sisters in concert. "How dreadful."
"You are right, ladies, and I've been tramping ever since."
"How far away is your home?"
"Only a hundred miles, or so."
"You have a family, have you?"
"A wife and four babies--if they only knowed what their poor father had
passed through--excuse these tears, mum."
The tramp just then gave a sniff and drew his sleeve across his
forehead, but Fred Sheldon, who was watching him closely, did not
detect anything like a tear.
But he noted something else, which had escaped the eyes of the
kind-hearted ladies.
The movement of the arm before the face seemed to displace the
luxuriant yellow beard. Instead of sitting on the countenance as it did
at first, even in its ugliness, it was slewed to one side.
Only for a moment, however, for by a quick flirt of the hand, as though
he were scratching his chin, he replaced it.
And just then Fred Sheldon noticed another fact. The hand with
which this was done was as small, white and fair as that of a
woman--altogether the opposite of that which would have been seen had
the tramp's calling been what he claimed.
The ladies, after a few more thoughtful questions, withdrew, so that
their guest might not feel any delicacy in eating all he wished--an
altogether unnecessary step on their part.
Fred went out with them, but after he had been gone a few minutes
he slyly peeped through the crack of the door, without the ladies
observing the impolite proceeding.
The guest was still doing his best in the way of satisfying his
appetite, but he was looking around the room, at the ceiling, the
floor, the doors, windows and fire-place, and indeed at everything, as
though he was greatly interested in them, as was doubtless the case.
All at once he stopped and listened, glancing furtively at the door, as
if he feared some one was about to enter the room.
Then he quietly rose, stepped quickly and noiselessly to one of the
windows, took out the large nail which was always inserted over the
sash at night to keep it fastened, put it in his pocket, and, with a
half chuckle and grin, seated himself again at the table.
At the rate of eating which was displayed, he soon finished, and,
wiping his greasy hands on his hair, he gave a great sigh of relief,
picked up his slouchy hat, and moved toward the door leading to the
room in which the ladies sat.
"I'm very much obleeged to you," said he, bowing very low, as he
shuffled toward the outer door, "and I shall ever remember you in my
prayers; sorry I can't pay you better, mums."
The sisters protested they were more than repaid in the gratitude he
showed, and they begged him, if he ever came that way, to call again.
He promised that he would be glad to do so, and departed.
"You may laugh all you're a mind to," said Fred, when he had gone, "but
that's the man I saw peeping in the window, and he means to come back
here to-night and rob you."
The boy told all that he knew, and the ladies, while not sharing his
fright, agreed that it was best to take extra precautions in locking up.