WADDIE’S MISTAKE.
I hastened into the house, and told my mother that father was coming.
She bestowed upon me a glance so full of anxiety that I comprehended
the question she desired to ask, and I added that he walked tolerably
well.
“Was it he that made the noise we heard?” she inquired.
“No; some of the students have been around here, and I think I saw
Waddie,” I replied.
“What do they want?”
“I don’t know; but I suppose they wish to see me.”
“Do be careful, Wolfert.”
“I’m not afraid of them, mother. I think I can take care of myself in
the face of the whole crowd.”
My father came in at the back door, interrupting the conversation. His
step was unsteady and his movements uncertain. He stayed a long time
in the entry putting away his hat, but at last he entered the kitchen.
He made desperate struggles to conceal his condition; but he failed to
do so. I could see my poor mother’s bosom bounding with emotion as the
days of evil came back to her from the past. There was a tear in her
eye; but she spoke not a word of reproach. My father walked across the
room to his accustomed chair, and dropped heavily into it.
“Wolf!” said he in a tone which was intended to be sharp, but which was
very thick from the effects of the liquor.
“I am here, father,” I replied, as little able to control my feelings
as my mother.
“You have been a bad boy!” he added, fiercely. “You have disgraced your
father!”
I thought not, but I did not deem it advisable to say so, or to utter a
word that would irritate him.
“I used to think you were a smart boy; but now I think you are a fool,”
he continued, with an oath, which I had never before heard him use.
“With a pistol in your hand you let Christy carry off all my money.
I wouldn’t say anything about that, but you came home, insulted and
abused Colonel Wimp’ton and his son. You hadn’t done your worst yet;
so you went over to Middleport, and turned traitor to the friends that
feed and clothe you. I know all about it!”
It was no use to talk about these things while he was in his present
condition, and I held my peace.
“I’ve seen Colonel Wimp’ton, and he ztold me all about it,” my father
went on, rapping the table violently with his fist. “I won’t have my
boy behave zo. I’ll lick him first.”
“Why, father, Wolfert has not done anything bad,” interposed my mother.
“I zsay he has!” replied my father furiously. “He’n Waddie blowed up
the canal boat. Then Wolf denied it, and insulted his best friends.
Then he went off and run that dummy.”
“Don’t say anything, mother,” said I to her, in a low tone.
“What’s that?” demanded my father, suspiciously. “What did you say,
Wolf? Do you mean to insult me, as you did Colonel Wimp’ton?”
But I will not follow this unpleasant scene any further in detail. It
was evident that my father had seen the magnate of Centreport, and that
the great man had won him over. He was stormy, violent, and suspicious.
He was angry with me, and then with my mother for speaking a word in my
defence. Finally he wept like a child, declaring that his family had
turned against him; and, overwhelmed by this maudlin grief, he went
upstairs and threw himself upon my bed. I think he intended to occupy
the spare chamber on the other side of the entry, for he was so angry
with my mother and me that he was intent upon getting away from us.
We decided that it would be best to let him alone. He lay sobbing on
the bed for a time, and then dropped asleep. My mother went in, and,
having assured herself that he was in a comfortable position, took
away the lamp. She and I sat up till midnight, talking over the bitter
prospect before us. In his cups my father was another man. My mother
told me with tears in her eyes, that he had abused her when he used to
drink before. In his intoxication he seemed to hate the family he loved
so well when he was sober.
At midnight he was still sleeping off the effects of his debauch, and
we retired, hoping for better things in the morning. I was so tired
that I went to sleep very soon. I occupied the spare chamber on the
second floor, while my mother’s room was downstairs. I do not know how
long I had slept, but I was awakened by a violent noise in the opposite
side of the house, which seemed to come from the apartment where my
father was. I was startled, and immediately leaped out of bed, lighted
a lamp, and hastily put on my clothes. Hearing my father’s voice in
excited tones, I rushed to the room with the lamp in my hand. I feared
that the liquor he had drunk had in some manner affected his brain, and
induced a delirium.
I opened the door. I saw my father standing over the prostrate form of
Waddie Wimpleton. The window was wide open, and I heard voices outside,
as of other boys effecting a hasty retreat. Waddie lay still upon the
floor, and his face was covered with blood.
“What is the matter, father?” I asked, terrified at the strange sight
which I beheld.
“Don’t you see what the matter is?” replied my father; but he seemed to
be very much confused.
“What has happened?”
“I hardly know,” answered he, gazing at the form of Waddie.
My father had slept several hours, and he appeared to be quite sober.
“This is Waddie Wimpleton,” said I, bending over the fallen youth.
“I see it is. I felt a hand upon me, and I started up from the bed.
Some one caught hold of me, and I struck right and left, till I
heard some one fall,” answered my father, rubbing his eyes, as if to
stimulate his bewildered senses. “I thought it was some one who had
come to rob me, and I couldn’t help believing it was Christy Holgate.”
“What in the world is the matter?” cried my mother, who now came into
the room, pale and trembling with terror.
I explained, as far as I could, the circumstances of the affair. My
father said nothing, but went to the window and looked out.
“There is a ladder under the window,” said he.
“But Waddie is not a robber,” added my mother, kneeling on the floor at
his side. “His face is cut, and he seems to be stunned.”
My father and I lifted him up, and placed him on the bed. My mother
went to work upon him, sending me down to assure my sisters that no
harm could come to them. I brought up some water and the camphor
bottle. On my return my father seemed to be quite like himself, and was
assisting in the restoration of the injured boy.
“He isn’t badly hurt, I think,” said my mother. “One of his front teeth
is knocked in, and the blood on his face comes from a mere scratch.
What in the world was he doing here?”
“I understand it now,” I replied. “Waddie and the other fellows were
after me. I saw them around the house about eight o’clock.”
“What do they want of you?” asked my father, whose head had been filled
with the other side of the story.
“They were going to punish me, I suppose, for what I said to Waddie and
his father, though I apologized to both of them for it.”
“What is to be done with this boy?” interposed my mother, anxiously, as
Waddie opened his eyes, and looked wildly around the room. “I think the
doctor had better see him.”
I went for the doctor, and came back with him, for he had just returned
from a night visit to a distant patient, and his horse was harnessed
at the door. When we arrived, Waddie was sitting up in the kitchen.
The physician examined his head, and declared that he had sustained
no injury that he could perceive. My father, who had been alarmed for
the consequences of the blow he had struck, breathed easier after this
announcement.
“I’m going home,” said Waddie, rising from the chair, after the doctor
had finished his examination. “I’ll bet you haven’t theen the latht of
thith thcrape. I thall”--
The scion put his hand up to his mouth, and wondered why he could not
speak without lisping. He had fully recovered his senses, under the
vigorous treatment of my mother, and with them came back the evil
spirit which controlled him.
“What were you doing in my house, Waddie?” asked my father.
“What wath I doing? I wath going to give Wolf fitth for being a traitor
and calling me a liar. And I’ll do it yet, if it coths me my life!”
replied Waddie, vigorously, as he held one hand on his mouth.
“I didn’t think you’d break into a man’s house in the night,” added my
father.
“Wolf ith going to work on the other thide, and that’th the only time
we could catch him. What did you hit me for?” demanded the scion,
rubbing his sore head with his hand.
“I did not know it was you, Waddie,” answered my father, meekly. “You
came into my room in the dark, when I was asleep.”
“It wathn’t your room. It wath Wolf’th room. What were you doing in
there?”
“It’s my own house, and I have a right to occupy any room I please,”
said my father, with more spirit than before.
“You were boothy latht night and didn’t know what you were about.”
My father’s brow contracted, and his lips were compressed. To be told
that he was intoxicated galled him sorely. Waddie declared that he had
struck him on purpose, and that he should suffer for it. The doctor
then took him into his chaise, and conveyed him to his home. My father
was not satisfied with the situation. He went to the pump, and drank a
large mug of water. He walked up and down the kitchen in silence for a
moment, and then said he must see Colonel Wimpleton at once. He went,
and by going through the grove he could reach the house as soon as the
doctor.
I did not see him again that night, and he did not come out of his room
till eight o’clock the next morning. I was very anxious to know how he
would regard me, after the hard words he had spoken the night before. I
was also curious to learn what had passed at Colonel Wimpleton’s during
his visit. Our relations with the magnate were certainly very singular
and perplexing. As nearly as I could judge, my father stood exactly
in my own position in regard to him. Neither of us had intended to
insult or injure the great man or his son, but both had incurred his
displeasure; for it would be impossible for the colonel to forgive the
unwitting blow my father had struck.
“Wolf,” said my father, after he had eaten his breakfast, “your mother
tells me you have an offer on the other side.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You may accept it, and go to work to-day, if you wish.”
“I should be very glad to do so,” I replied. “Did you have any trouble
with Colonel Wimpleton?”
“I did. He discharged me, and ordered me out of his house,” he
answered, gloomily.
Of one thing I was sure--my father was not angry with me.