COLONEL WIMPLETON AND SON.
My mother wept as she thought of the past, and dreaded the future.
It would have been comparatively easy to endure the loss of the
twenty-four hundred dollars; but it was intolerable to think of the
misery of again being a drunkard’s wife. All else was as nothing to her
beside this awful prospect. My father had struggled with his besetting
and his besotting sin for five years, and with hardly an exception had
always been the conqueror. During this period he had prospered in his
worldly affairs, and till this day of disaster the future seemed to be
secure to him.
My mother told me I had done right in emptying the bottle, and assured
me that my father would not long cherish his anger. She knew not what
to do in order to turn the tide which had set against us. If the
sheriff succeeded in arresting Christy, and securing the money he had
stolen, the effect upon my father would be good. If the money was lost,
we feared that father would be lost with it.
While we were talking about the sad prospect before us, an imperative
knock was heard at the front door--a summons so loud and stately that
we could hardly fail to identify the person even before we saw his
face. My mother wiped away her bitter tears, and hastened to the door.
“Has your son come home?” demanded Colonel Wimpleton, in his abrupt and
offensive manner, when he spoke to his social inferiors, as he regarded
them.
“Yes, sir, he has,” replied my mother, with fear and trembling before
the magnate of Centreport.
Without further ceremony, or any ceremony,--for he had used none,--he
stalked into the kitchen where I sat. He was followed by his hopeful
scion, who looked quite as magnificent as his stately father.
“So you have come home, you young villain!” said the colonel, fixing a
savage gaze upon me.
“I have come home; but I am not a villain, sir,” I replied, with what
dignity I could command.
“Don’t contradict me. I say you are a villain.”
“Your saying so don’t make it so,” I answered, desperately; for I was
goaded almost to despair by the misfortunes of the day; and though at
any other time I should have been as meek as a nursing dove, I felt
like defending myself from the charges he was about to make.
“Don’t be impudent to me, young man,” scowled he. “You know me, and you
know what I am.”
“I know what you are,” I added, significantly; and I was astonished at
my own boldness.
He looked at me savagely, apparently trying to determine what
construction to put upon my remark. Waddie stood at his side, quite
self-possessed, considering the wicked deed he had done. His presence
reminded me of the revolver I had in my pocket, and I took it out and
presented it to him.
“Here is your revolver, Waddie. I did not intend to keep it, when I
took it,” said I.
“I don’t want it. It is yours now,” replied he, declining to take the
weapon. “I gave it to you for the job you did for me, and I am not
going to back out now.”
“Take it, Waddie,” interposed his father. “Such a trade is not legal or
binding.”
“I’m not going to take it,” replied the hopeful, stoutly. “It was a
fair trade, and it would not be honorable for me to back out.”
“Give it to me, then,” added the colonel.
I gave it to him, and he put it in his pocket, in spite of the protest
of Waddie.
“Now, Wolf, I want you to tell me the truth,” continued Colonel
Wimpleton.
“I will do so, sir.”
“You persuaded my boy to blow up that canal boat?”
“No, sir. I did not.”
“I didn’t say he persuaded me to do it, father,” interrupted the son.
“You wouldn’t have done such a thing as that unless somebody put you
up to it, Waddie,” protested the fond father, who had been obliged to
make the same statement fifty times before, and remained obstinately
incredulous in regard to his son’s capacity to do mischief up to the
present time.
“Yes, I would, father; and I am only sorry the skipper of the canal
boat was not on board when she went up. Didn’t I say he insulted me?
Didn’t I tell you he shook me, kicked me, cuffed me, and then chucked
me on the wharf, as though I had been a dead cat? When a man insults
me, he has to pay for it,” said Waddie, shaking his head to emphasize
his strong declarations.
“Yes; and I shall have to pay for it too,” muttered the colonel, who
felt very much as the man did who had to pay his wife’s fine after he
had prosecuted her for an assault upon himself.
“No matter for that; I am revenged,” added Waddie, coolly. “I only said
that Wolf showed me how to do it, and pulled the string when all was
ready.”
“That’s enough,” replied the father.
I understood the magnate of Centreport well enough to comprehend his
position. He was quite willing to pay a couple of thousand dollars
for the destruction of the canal boat; but he was very loath to have
the Centreporters believe, what was literally the truth, that Waddie
Wimpleton was the worst and most evil-disposed boy in the whole town.
While he did not attempt to discipline and control his vicious heir, he
was exceedingly jealous of the youth’s reputation. He wished to have me
confess that I had had a finger in this pie of mischief. My character
stood high in town, for I had tried to behave like a gentleman on all
occasions. If I shared the blame with the colonel’s hopeful, he was
willing to pay all costs and damages. I really believe, if I could
have assumed the entire odium of the wicked deed, the magnate would
have been willing to pay for the boat, and give me a thousand dollars
besides. In fact, I knew of one instance in which a boy of bad habits
had been indirectly paid for taking upon his own shoulders the blame
that belonged upon Waddie’s.
“I had nothing at all to do with blowing up the canal boat, Colonel
Wimpleton,” I replied. “I knew nothing about it till the explosion took
place.”
“You deny it--do you?” demanded the magnate, sharply.
“I do, sir; I had nothing to do with it.”
“How dare you lie to me? As Waddie was concerned in the affair, I don’t
mind paying for the boat, and I suppose that will be the end of the
scrape; but I know my boy wouldn’t do such a thing without some help.”
“I didn’t help him,” I protested, warmly.
“Didn’t you pull the string?” demanded Waddie, with the most unblushing
effrontery.
“No, I did not.”
“Didn’t you have hold of the string when the boat went up?” persisted
the young villain.
“I did, but”--
“There, father, he owns up to all I ask him to confess,” interposed
Waddie.
“I own up to nothing,” I replied, indignantly. “I say, again, I had
nothing to do with the explosion, and knew nothing about it till the
boat blew up.”
“What do you mean, you young rascal?” stormed the colonel. “One moment
you say you had hold of the string, and the next that you knew nothing
about it.”
“If you wish me to explain the matter, I will do so; if not, I won’t,”
I added, disgusted with the evident intention of the magnate to convict
me, whether guilty or not.
“Will you confess that you had a hand in the mischief?”
“No, I will not.”
“But, you young rascal”--
“I am not a rascal, Colonel Wimpleton. If either of us is a rascal,
you are the one, not I,” I continued, goaded to desperation by his
injustice.
“What!” gasped the great man, confounded at my boldness.
“I say just what I mean. Waddie knows, as well as I do, that I had
nothing to do with blowing up the canal boat, and if he was a decent
fellow he would say so.”
“Don’t be rash, Wolfert,” interposed my mother, alarmed at my temerity.
“I am not afraid of them, mother.”
“Do you mean to say I’m not a decent fellow?” howled Waddie.
“I did say so, and I meant to say so. You know that you lie when you
say I had anything to do with blowing up the boat.”
“Do you tell me I lie?”
“I do; I tell you so with all my might,” I persisted, boldly.
“We’ll see about this,” said Colonel Wimpleton, furiously. “Mrs.
Penniman, your boy is impudent--impudent to me, and to my son.”
“You accuse him of something he didn’t do, and won’t hear what he has
to say,” replied my mother, meekly.
“Accuse him of what he didn’t do! Didn’t he say he had hold of the
string? Wolf had the pistol, too, and that proves the truth of what
Waddie said. How came you by the pistol?” demanded the magnate, turning
fiercely to me.
“I took it away from Waddie when he threatened to shoot me with it, and
after he had fired one ball at me.”
“Do you want to make it out that my boy intended to murder you? Once
more, will you confess to me, or will you have it proved before a
justice?”
“I don’t care where you prove it; but I shall not confess what I didn’t
do.”
“My son speaks the truth, Mrs. Penniman, though he may be a little wild
sometimes.”
“There isn’t a bigger liar in town,” said I, very imprudently.
“Do you hear that, marm?” snapped the colonel. “Didn’t my son confess
that he had a hand in the mischief? Doesn’t that show that he is a
truthful boy? Wolf is violent and abusive. I have done what I could for
your family, Mrs. Penniman.”
“I know you have, Mr. Wimpleton, and we are all very grateful to you,”
replied my trembling mother.
“I should think you were! You permit this young rascal to insult and
abuse me and my son. He calls me a rascal, and my son a liar. Is that
his gratitude?” continued the much-abused great man. “You will hear
from me again, Mrs. Penniman.”
“And you will hear from me again, Wolf Penniman. I don’t allow any
fellow to call me a liar,” added Waddie, bristling up like a bantam
rooster.
“You permit this young cub to insult and abuse me,” persisted the
magnate, as he bolted out of the front door, followed by his hopeful,
who could not help shaking his fist at me as he went out.
“What have you done, Wolf?” exclaimed my mother, when they had gone.
“I have spoken the truth, like a man,” I replied, though I trembled for
the consequences of my bold speech to the great man.
“He will discharge your father; and, now the money is gone, he will
turn us out of house and home,” added my mother, beginning to cry again.
“I can’t help it. I have only told the truth, and I am not going to
cower before that man and that boy any longer.”
I took my cap and left the house.