THE RUNAWAY.
For a moment it seemed to Alaric that he could not forgive that
thoughtlessly uttered speech. And yet the girl who made it had called
him Cousin "Rick," a name he had always desired, but which no one had
ever given him before. If she had called him "Allie," he knew he would
never have forgiven her. As it was he hesitated, and his pale face
flushed again. What should he say?
In her contrition and eagerness to atone for her cruel words Esther
leaned toward him, and laid a beseeching hand on his arm. For the moment
she forgot her responsibility as driver, and the reins held loosely in
her whip-hand lay slack across the ponies' backs.
Just then a newspaper that had been carelessly dropped in the roadway
was picked up by a sudden gust of wind and whirled directly into the
faces of the spirited team. The next instant they were dashing madly
down the street. At the outset the reins were jerked from Esther's hand;
but ere they could slip down beyond reach Alaric had seized them. Then
with the leathern bands wrapped about his wrists, he threw his whole
weight back on them, and strove to check or at least to guide the
terrified animals. The light cart bounded and swayed from side to side.
Men shouted and women screamed, and a clanging cable-car from a cross
street was saved from a collision only by the prompt efforts of its
gripman. The roadway was becoming more and more crowded with teams and
pedestrians. Alaric's teeth were clinched, and he was bare-headed,
having lost his hat as he caught the reins. Esther sat beside him,
motionless and silent, but with bloodless cheeks.
They were on an avenue that led to the heart of the city. On one side
was a hill, up which cross streets climbed steeply. To keep on as they
were going meant certain destruction. All the strain that Alaric could
bring to bear on the reins did not serve to check the headlong speed of
the hard-mouthed ponies. With each instant their blind terror seemed to
increase. Several side streets leading up the hill had already been
passed, and another was close at hand. Beyond it was a mass of teams and
cable-cars.
"Hold on for your life!" panted Alaric, in the ear of the girl who sat
beside him.
As he spoke he dropped one rein, threw all his weight on the other, and
at the same instant brought the whip down with a stinging cut on the
right-hand side of the off horse. The frenzied animal instinctively
sprang to the left, both yielded to the heavy tug of that rein, and the
team was turned into the side street. The cart slewed across the smooth
asphalt, lunged perilously to one side, came within a hair's-breadth of
upsetting, and then righted. Two seconds later the mad fright of the
ponies was checked by pure exhaustion half-way up the steep hill-side.
There they stood panting and trembling, while a crowd of excited
spectators gathered about them with offers of assistance and advice.
"Do they seem to be all right?" asked Alaric.
"All right, sir, far as I can see," replied one of the men, who was
examining the quivering animals and their harness.
"Then if you will kindly help me turn them around, and will lead them to
the foot of the hill, I think they will be quiet enough to drive on
without giving any more trouble," said the boy.
When this was done, and Alaric, after cordially thanking those who had
aided him, had driven away, one of the men exclaimed, as he gazed after
the vanishing carriage,
"Plucky young chap that!"
"Yes," replied another; "and doesn't seem to be a bit of a snob like
most of them wealthy fellows, either."
Meanwhile Alaric was tendering the reins to the girl who had sat so
quietly by his side without an outcry or a word of suggestion during the
whole exciting episode.
"Won't you drive now, Cousin Esther?"
"Indeed I will not, Alaric. I feel ashamed of myself for presuming to
take the reins from you before, and you may be certain that I shall
never attempt to do such a thing again. The way you managed the whole
affair was simply splendid. And oh, Cousin Rick! to think that I should
have called _you_ a Miss Nancy! Just as you were about to save my life,
too. I can never forgive myself--never."
"Oh yes you can," laughed Alaric, "for it is true--that is, it was true;
for I can see now that I have been a regular Miss Nancy sort of a fellow
all my life. That is what made me feel so badly when you said it. Nobody
ever dared tell me before, and so it came as an unpleasant surprise.
Now, though, I am glad you said it."
"And you will never give anybody in the whole world a chance to say such
a thing again, will you?" asked the girl, eagerly. "And you will go
right to work at learning how to do the things that other boys do, won't
you?"
"I don't know," answered Alaric, doubtfully. "I'd like to well enough;
but I don't know just how to begin. You see, I'm too old to learn from
the little boys, and the big fellows won't have anything to do with such
a duffer as I am. They've all heard too much about my weak heart."
"Then I'd go away to some place where nobody knows you and make a fresh
start. You might go out on one of your father's ranches and learn to be
a cowboy, or up into those great endless forests that I saw on Puget
Sound the other day, and live in a logging camp. It is such a glorious
splendid life, and there is so much to be done up in that country. Oh
dear! if I were only a boy, and going to be a man, wouldn't I get there
just as quickly as I could, and learn how to do things, so that when I
grew up I could go right ahead and do them?"
"All that sounds well," said Alaric, dubiously, "but I know father will
never let me go to any such places. He thinks such a life would kill me.
Besides, he says that as I shall never have to work, there is no need
for me to learn how."
"But you must work," responded Esther, stoutly. "Every one must, or else
be very unhappy. Papa says that the happiest people in the world are
those who work the hardest when it is time for work, and play the
hardest in play-time. But where are you driving to? This isn't the way
home."
"I am going to get a new hat and gloves," answered the boy, "for I don't
want anyone at the house to know of our runaway. They'd never let me
drive the ponies again if they found it out."
"It would be a shame if they didn't, after the way you handled them just
now," exclaimed Esther, indignantly.
Just then they stopped before a fashionable hat-store on Kearney Street,
and while Alaric was debating whether he ought to leave the ponies long
enough to step inside he was recognized, and a clerk hastened to receive
his order.
"Hats and gloves," said Alaric; "you know the sizes."
The clerk answered, "Certainly, Mr. Todd," bowed, and disappeared in the
store.
"See those lovely gray 'Tams' in the window, Cousin Rick," said Esther.
"Why don't you get one of them? It would be just the thing to wear in
the woods."
"All right," replied the boy. "I will."
So when the clerk reappeared with a stylish derby-hat and a dozen pair
of gloves Alaric put the former on, said he would keep the gloves, and
at the same time requested that one of the gray Tams might be done up
for him.
As this order was filled, and the ponies were headed towards home,
Esther said; "Why, Cousin Rick, you didn't pay for your things?"
"No," repeated the boy, "I never do."
"You didn't even ask the prices, either."
"Of course not!" laughed the other. "Why should I? They were things that
I had to have anyway, and so what would be the use of asking the prices?
Besides, I don't think I ever did such a thing in my life."
"Well," sighed the girl, "it must be lovely to shop in that way. Now I
never bought anything without first finding out if I could afford it;
and as for gloves, I know I never bought more than one pair at a time."
"Really?" said Alaric, with genuine surprise, "I didn't know they sold
less than a dozen pair at a time. I wish I had known it, for I only
wanted one pair. I've got so many at home now that they are a bother."
That very evening the lad spoke to his father about going on a ranch and
learning to be a cowboy. Unfortunately his brother John overheard him,
and greeted the proposition with shouts of laughter. Even Amos Todd,
while mildly rebuking his eldest son, could not help smiling at the
absurdity of the request. Then, turning to the mortified lad, he said
kindly but decidedly:
"You don't know what you are asking, Allie, my boy, and I wouldn't think
for a moment of allowing you to attempt such a thing. The excitement of
that kind of life would kill you in less than no time. Ask anything in
reason, and I shall be only too happy to gratify you; but don't make
foolish requests."
When Alaric reported this failure to Esther a little later, she said,
very gravely: "Then, Cousin Rick, there is only one thing left for you
to do. You must run away."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
FAMILIAR QUOTATIONS.
BY PATTY PEMBERTON BERMANN.
_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ_.
THE PREFACE.
THE INDEX.
A LOCKSMITH.
CUPID.
A COLORED DUDE.
A COLORED LAUNDRESS.
A COLORED POLICEMAN.
A VIOLET.
A DAFFODIL.
A LILY-OF-THE-VALLEY.
A GHOST.
FIRST PITCHER.
SECOND PITCHER.
A FASHIONABLE LADY.
A FASHIONABLE GENTLEMAN.
A TIN MOUSE.
COSTUMES FOR THE PLAY.
PREFACE.--A dress of white muslin or paper cambric. A small muslin apron
entirely covered, except the hem, with printed words. A white ribbon,
with "Preface" in black capitals, extending from the right shoulder
diagonally to the waist, where it ends under a bow of red ribbon. On the
right shoulder a red bow. The flowing hair is crowned by a dainty muslin
cap trimmed with a knot of red ribbon.
INDEX.--A white suit. Belt bearing his name in black letters.
VIOLET.--A dress of fluffy material--pale lavender, with violets of
deeper shade falling in a fringe around a low neck.
DAFFODIL.--Same in yellow.
LILY-OF-THE-VALLEY.--A white tulle with delicate green
over-dress. Puffed white sleeves with ruffles of green. A bunch of
lilies-of-the-valley on one shoulder.
LOCKSMITH.--Ragged trousers, shirt, and large brown holland apron.
Bunches of keys hanging from his waist.
CUPID.--Flesh-colored tights and pink trunks, quiver, and arrows.
[Illustration]
FIRST AND SECOND PITCHERS.--Baseball rig. Asses' ears of gray canton
flannel, wired to keep them in shape.
COLORED LAUNDRESS.--Dress of gaudy chintz, large check apron, and
bandanna head handkerchief.
Other costumes to suit the fancy of wearers.
If the play is to take place in a parlor, be sure there is a doorway at
one end connecting it with another room. A stage one foot from the floor
is built right across the door, which should be right or left of the
centre background. The framework for a book through which each
individual or group must pass to front of stage is thus made--two
uprights 5 ft. 6 in. high are placed 3 ft 4 in. apart, and fastened to
the stage floor; 1 ft. 6 in. behind these uprights, and exactly opposite
them, fix two others of the same height. Nail three cross-pieces at the
top (leaving the side nearest the door open) to hold the frame together.
This skeleton book must stand at such an angle that while one inner
corner almost touches the stage entrance door, the other inner corner
will be 2 ft. beyond the door. Tack a strip of asbestos down the side
that represents the closed leaves of a book. A similar strip, only
somewhat wider, is put on for the curved back. The side presented to the
spectators is the cover of your book. It is to close and unclose like a
door, so that the characters may appear to step out when the volume is
opened. This cover may be of asbestos, but it should hang on hinges that
move very freely. Draw across the book cover, so that each word will
fill a line
"FAMILIAR QUOTATIONS."
Paint the letters in gold and some bright color. Attach a bit of twine
inside the cover, midway, on the hinge side, to enable the person who
engineers the book to close it without being seen.
A large table with lamp and books, and one or two chairs, will suffice
for stage furniture.
The book slowly opens, revealing Preface. She steps forward, closely
followed by Index, who remains right of and a little behind her.
_Preface_.
The Preface always is allowed
First to address the expectant crowd;
Whether my task's a pleasant one
I shall know better--when 'tis done.
(_She points to the book_, Index _copying all her movements_.)
From out these covers, blithely tripping,
Familiar friends will soon be slipping;
They're tired of hiding in a book,
Where you must go for them to look.
To-night they mean to play before you
Some trifles that we hope won't bore you;
Indeed, we ask for each quotation
Only its meed of approbation.
[_She starts to return to the book, but is intercepted by_ Index,
_who intimates that he has something to say_. Preface _takes his
hand, and leads him to the footlights_.]
[Illustration]
_Index_ (_first looking admiringly at_ Preface).
As she is first, so last am I,
The Index that can tell you why
And when and wherefore this was writ,
And who the author is of it;
When a quotation doth appear
I'll do my best to make it clear.
[_He bows to the audience, and escorts_ Preface _to the book, opens
the cover, and watches it close upon her, kisses his hand after
her, and retires dejectedly behind the volume. The piano orchestra
strikes up "The Flowers that Bloom in the Spring._"]
_Index_ (_popping out his head from back of book)_. Gilbert and
Sullivan.
[Violet, Daffodil, _and_ Lily-of-the-Valley _emerge, trip to the
front, group themselves harmoniously, and dance, ending with a
sweeping courtesy. Exeunt._]
_The Audience_. Of course that was "The Flowers that bloom in the
Spring."
_Index_. Second quotation. Author, Dryden.
[_A lady opens the book and walks with dignity across the stage.
Draws a chair to front, seats herself, and slowly waves her fan.
Raises a lorgnette to her eyes, rises, and turns gracefully to the
left. At this moment a tin mouse on wheels is sent whizzing toward
her from behind the curtain. She jumps on the chair, gathering her
skirts about her, and screaming. A foppish youth comes from the
book in affected excitement, and attacks the mouse with his
umbrella. While the conflict goes on, the lady covers her face with
her hands, now and then stealing a glance at her champion. The
mouse is finally slain. The gentleman presents it, kneeling. She
turns away at first, but presently dismounts and accepts the hero's
arm. They go off together, he waving the mouse at the audience. The
audience, after several mistakes, guesses, "None but the brave
deserve the fair."_]
_Index_ (_who has meanwhile frequently bobbed out from behind the book,
now cries gleefully_). Third quotation. A proverb! A proverb!
[_The_ First _and_ Second Pitchers _enter, each holding a ball.
They strike all sorts of baseball attitudes as they advance to
footlights, then station themselves on opposite sides of stage.
They throw the balls until some one guesses, "Little pitchers have
big ears." Exeunt._]
CURTAIN.
_The stage is darkened for next scene. A tall boy is draped in
white. A small boy, also in flowing white, with crown of laurel
such as we see in portraits of Cæsar. The hair and face whitened.
The larger boy seats himself in chair (also draped in white) with
rollers near cover of book. Small boy is placed astride his
shoulders._
_Index_. Fourth quotation. An exclamation. Author unknown.
[_Book opens very slowly. Some one concealed behind the chair
pushes it a little beyond the book. Ghost rises deliberately,
stands a moment, turns and stalks majestically to draw curtain,
behind which he disappears. If the audience fails to see the point
early_, Index _cries_, "Can't you guess? Great Cæsar's ghost!"]
CURTAIN.
_Index_. Another proverb.
[_The_ Locksmith, _carrying a three-legged stool, hobbles out,
seats himself on stool, draws a file from his bag, and sets to work
on a great key_. Cupid _thrusts his curly head from the book,
laughing inaudibly. He tiptoes behind the_ Locksmith, _and tickles
his neck with a feather arrow-head_. Locksmith _brushes at the
supposed fly. The tickling continuing_, Locksmith _gets up and
looks right and left_, Cupid _always dodging him. They gradually
reach the book thus. As the cover is about to close_, Cupid _seizes
the bunch of keys, laughing aloud_. Locksmith _turns to beat him,
but the agile boy springs past him into the book, leaving him
outside_.
_The last quotation needs no announcement. It is set to a genuine
negro melody, and should be sung with a swing._
_A_ Colored Dude _enters with banjo slung across his shoulder by a
ribbon_. (_Sings._)]
Oh let me interjuce myse'f,
A gent'man f'om de Souf,
What nevah wuks while other folks
Puts wittles in his mouf.
Den fetch de 'possum barbacue,
Roas' ches'nuts, an' pop-cawn;
De darkies' hour fer jamboree
Is jes' befo' de dawn.
[_As he concludes the verse the_ Colored Laundress _appears and
pushes him aside_. (_She sings._)]
You see a cullud lady here
Dat scrub an' wash all day,
An' ev'ry evenin' fer a res'
She dance de time away.
(_Duet and dance._)
So knock it off wid heel an' toe,
De night is almos' gone,
An' don't fergit de darkies' hour
Is jes' befo' de dawn.
_They are interrupted by the arrival of a pompous_ Colored
Policeman.
_The Policeman_.
I'm sent ter 'rest dis company
Fer 'sterbin' of de peace.
_Dude_ and _Laundress_.
Now change yo' min', Mist' P'liceman, do,
An' jine us in our feas'.
_Chorus_ (_dancing_).
Come cut de pigeon-wing wid us,
An' shore ez you is bawn
You'll fin' de liv'les' darkies' hour
Is jes befo' de dawn.
PATTY'S STATION.
BY KATHARINE B. FOOT.
It was Patty Miller's seventeenth birthday and a sweet May morning in
the early fifties. She sat on the porch step beside her father, who was
the doctor of the whole country-side far and near, and they looked out
over the superb view of the Connecticut Valley below them. She was an
only child, and her father's dear companion and friend, and as dear and
familiar friends are apt to do, they sat without speaking for some time,
until her father laid an affectionate hand on hers and said, "Are you
happy to be home, daughter, on your birthday?"
"Yes, or any other day," and she laid her other hand over his. "And I
think I'm more glad than ever since we visited in Virginia. New England
for me always."
After another little silence her father said, "Uncle Tom and Fanny seem
to enjoy it here."
"Oh yes, or they wouldn't stay. Uncle Tom never stays anywhere unless
he's comfortable. But I can't help wondering how he gets on without
servants, for Abe is always at his elbow on the plantation, and there's
no one at all to wait on him here. I wonder," continued Patty, laughing
a little, "what Uncle Tom and Fanny would think if they knew that
Wellfield was a station in the underground railroad, and you the
station-master, and the particular station our house, and the
hiding-place under the closet floor in the very room that he sleeps in?"
Uncle Tom was a Southerner, and was visiting with his daughter his
Northern relatives, with whom he was on the best of terms except on the
subject of slave-holding.
"I don't know I'm sure," her father said, seriously, "but once, years
ago, I told him that I'd help along any of his slaves to freedom if they
asked me, and he said that if any of them wanted to run away I was quite
welcome to do it. But Tom is a good master, as his father was before
him, and if his servants are going to be slaves at all they're probably
as well off with him, and perhaps better off than they would be anywhere
else."
"It's lucky," said Patty, and she laughed heartily, "that you have
always been able to pass your fugitives right on, for I believe that if
any one was shut up in that place very long they'd suffocate."
"Well," said her father, slowly and thoughtfully, "it would be cramping,
but it's ventilated directly to the air; and 'twas awfully lucky that
that trellis with the honeysuckle on it ran up on that side of the
house, so that I could make that little window there. That is your
station, Patty, and you were a clever girl to find it out. I think that
your mother and I were pretty stupid not to see that the ceiling of the
closet was so much lower than it was in the room until you told us, for
we'd racked our brains for years to think of a secure hiding-place."
"But it wouldn't have been any good if there hadn't been a closet
above," said Patty; "and if you hadn't been such a good carpenter that
you could cut the little window and fix the trap-door that--well, that
no eyes could see."
"And especially with a small trunk over it, and no servants to spy it
out," interrupted her father. "Yes," and he smiled, "I think that
'Patty's station' will be a safe one if it ever has to be used. But here
comes Uncle Tom now," as a handsome man came toward them from the front
door.
"All ready for your birthday jaunt, Patty? Where is Fanny?"
"Coming, papa," and a girl a little younger than Patty ran down stairs
just as Mrs. Miller came out of the parlor door.
"I'm sorry you won't go with us, Anna," said Mr. Mason to her.
"I'm sorry too," said Mrs. Miller, "but as I'm my own cook I must stay
at home, or you'd starve when you got back."
"I tell you what, Anna, you put yourself up at auction, and I'll bid you
in at any price, and then I'll be sure of good cooking for the rest of
my life."
Mrs. Miller laughed and shook her head wisely. "Well, you see, Tom, I
might die. If I couldn't run away I might take that gleam of liberty."
"Oh, what a fanatic you are!" he laughed.
"Oh, there's Mr. Holman coming in!" said Patty. "I'll run to meet him,
for he don't like our steep path."
"Is that your old clergyman?" said Mr. Mason.
"Our minister," said Mrs. Miller. "He likes the old name, and he is a
minister, truly. He has probably come for John to go to see somebody who
is sick and poor."
"That's a pretty fair partnership, I reckon," said Mr. Mason. "But John
is always caring for the lame and the lazy."
The doctor went into his office for his saddle-bags, for when he did not
ride he carried them in his chaise.
"Father, will you come down here?" Patty called.
Mr. Holman looked very serious as Dr. Miller approached him, and he
looked about him cautiously before he whispered: "There's a fugitive
slave at Lem Carter's, and Dimmock and two men are after him. The man
seems to be an intelligent fellow, and he says that he thinks that they
are not looking for him in particular just now, but are after another
man who was with him, and who left him three days ago, for the other
fellow knew that he was being chased, and they thought it more prudent
to separate. But as this man at Lem's is a fugitive, if they find him
they'll take him even if he isn't the man they're after. Lem says that
he knows his house is watched, so he doesn't dare to keep him overnight,
nor to have you drive down and get him. Now Lem and I thought out this
plan: If you can get your Silas out of the way, I will let Lem know, and
he will bring the man to your stable after dark, and you can drive him
to Northampton to Mr. Brewer's, for there's no other place here where
it's safe to keep him."
"I think I can get Silas out of the way," said the doctor, after
thinking a moment. "But suppose they track him to my stable, what shall
I do? For you know my brother-in-law, Mr. Mason, is here, and that
closet where I made the hiding-place is in his room."
"Well," said Mr. Holman, "sometimes the most absolutely daring thing is
the safest thing to do, and if you were hard pressed and had to put him
there, no one could possibly dream of your taking such a risk. But I
don't think it's at all likely that he'll be followed up so closely as
that. I think you'll have time enough to get him out of the way, for,
now that I think of it, Mr. Mason's being here is really a protection to
you."
So, after a little more talk between them, the matter was settled. Mr.
Holman explained matters to Mrs. Miller, and she thought out a plan for
the doctor, so that Silas could be sent on an errand in the late
afternoon which would take him two or three miles into the country, and
so keep him out of the way for the entire evening.
Meanwhile Patty, although this episode was one which she had long
desired, carried a really heavy and anxious heart, and felt that she
must make a constant exertion to appear like her usual self. She was
very anxious about the safety of the poor fugitive, because it seemed
such a complication to have her uncle and Fanny with them, and, of
course, she knew how hot and close the pursuit was after any fugitive,
and especially so when there was a large reward in prospect. She found
herself wondering at herself as she laughed and talked all day long, and
as she afterwards told all their adventures to her mother and father at
the tea-table. After tea was over, and while Patty was helping her
mother to clear the table, Mrs. Miller had a few minutes to tell Patty
of their plans, and that her part of it was to keep her uncle and Fanny
in the parlor, and amused and interested, if possible, so that her uncle
would not take it into his head to wander down to the stable, as he
often did, or Fanny to wander about the house, where she might possibly
look out of a window and see something suspicious going on outside. So
Patty went at once into the parlor, and had the happy thought of hunting
up an old book of dim old engravings that had been given to her father,
and which she knew would interest her uncle Tom, for he was something of
a bookworm. It was a happy thought, indeed, for Mr. Mason was soon so
deep in his interest in the book, and so interested in telling the girls
what he knew about the engravings, which were very old and, as he said,
extremely valuable, that Patty felt he was quite safely anchored until
the danger should be over. As soon as the late May twilight became
darkness, the doctor, saying something about having a call, lit his
lantern and went down to the stable. He waited only a few moments before
the door opened cautiously, and Lem Carter, a slight, alert-looking man,
stepped in, followed by a negro. In one flash the man and the doctor
recognized each other, for, strange to say, it was Mr. Mason's Abe--the
very man that he and Patty had been talking about that morning.
Lem whispered: "Put your light out, quick, for we are followed. _Hello!
Do you know him?_" for the man was on his knees, saying, in a thrilling
whisper:
[Illustration: "OH, MARSE DOCTAH! DON'T GIB ME UP!"]
"Oh, Marse Doctah! Don't gib me up! don't gib me up! I didn't know it
was Marse Tom's--Marse Doctah--I wuz comin' to."
"Hush, Abe!" said the doctor, "I'll not give you up; but your master is
here, and I must get you safely away as soon as I can. It's my brother's
man," said Dr. Miller.
"That's a _great_ fix," said Lem; "but I'll get out of here and try to
throw them off the track. Don't you leave him here two shakes; the
barn'll be the first place they'll aim for," and even as he spoke he
slipped away.
"Abe," said the doctor, "you must be perfectly quiet and do exactly what
I tell you, and I will have you safe soon. Come with me." And he took
him by the arm, and led him out of the side door of the barn and up the
path to the kitchen door. He left him for one moment in the little entry
outside of it, and went in and told his wife who it was that had come to
them. She was shocked and rather frightened, but very quiet, and made no
exclamation; and then they put Abe in the big store-room, just out of
the kitchen, and she got him some food while she was saying:
"Go and send Patty to me. Tell her anything you can think of. Oh, I
know--tell her to come out and show me where the milk is for the cottage
cheese."
When the doctor went away Abe told her in a few frightened words that as
soon as Mr. Mason left home, two weeks before, the overseer had given
him a pass to go to the next county for some sheep, and as he had to
drive them back, which would take some days, he knew that he wouldn't be
missed for that time, and so could never have a better opportunity for
the escape that he had planned for years; but had kept it such a secret
that not even the doctor--whose abolition principles were well known to
Abe--had had the least suspicion of such a thing. So he had run away,
and, strangely enough, been passed along, until he was under the very
roof with his master.
"Patty, be careful not to speak loud," Mrs. Miller said a moment later,
when her daughter appeared. "I didn't want to see you about the cheeses;
but we've got to hide a man to-night until father can get him away. He's
in the store-room now; and, Patty," and her mother laid her hand on her
shoulder, "it's a strange thing, and I can hardly believe it myself, but
it's somebody we know--it's Uncle Tom's Abe."
It was lucky that a chair was behind Patty, for she sat down suddenly
and grew very white, but all she said was, "Oh, mother, what _shall_ we
do?"
"Father will drive him to Northampton just as quick as he can get him
away. But Mr. Carter thinks that Dimmock is following him up very
closely, and if he comes here Abe has got to be put in the
hiding-place."
A moment later Patty and her mother returned to the room, apparently
quite calm and composed, and the doctor was just saying, "Well, I have a
long drive before me, and must be off," in such a matter-of-fact way
that Patty felt almost hysterical.
Just at that moment some one pounded on the knocker in a very imperative
way, and Fanny said, "Goodness, somebody must be dying!" The doctor went
to the front door and opened it. Even he, for a second, was startled, as
he saw three men standing there.
"Good-evening," said the doctor. "Anybody sick? Hello, Dimmock, I didn't
see you. What's the matter?"
Mr. Dimmock seemed somewhat embarrassed, and said: "No, we ain't none of
us sick; but fact is, doctor, we're after a runaway nigger, and my
friends here--Mr. Sterling and Mr. Pratt--say they traced him right up
here about ten minutes ago, and they just brought me along to make the
warrant right, as I'm United States Commissioner, you know. Have you got
the fellow, and will you give him up?"
"Upon my word!" said the doctor, putting his hands behind his back and
holding a hat in one of them. "Do you suppose that I've got him here,
with _you_ pretty nearly next door? And don't you know well enough that
if I had I wouldn't tell you?"
"Pretty high and mighty, doctor," said the man they called Dimmock. "In
the name of the United States, I demand to search this house. We've been
through your barn a'ready."
"It's a--an outrage," said the doctor; "so search, if you please; you
won't find anybody." And he stepped aside, and said, "Walk in,
gentlemen. I have the highest respect for your _authority_--if not for
your business."
As the men walked into the room, Patty said, "Father, is Mr. Dimmock
going up into my room?"
"I suppose so," said her father; "no place is sacred when Mr. Dimmock
goes hunting."
"Then I must go up a moment first," said Patty; "it isn't in order." And
she left the room.
Mrs. Miller sat still and looked at the men, and Mr. Mason rose to his
feet, saying,
"What's all this?"
The doctor knew that if he could keep the men back a very few moments
Patty would hide Abe, for he was sure that his wife had made some plan
with her. So he turned to Mr. Mason and said, "It's very likely, Tom,
that I have a fugitive slave here, isn't it?"
But before Mr. Mason could answer, Dimmock said, "We knew you were here,
Mr. Mason, and we're sorry to disturb you, but there are _some_ people
in Wellfield that keep the laws, and that nigger's been traced here, and
we're bound to have him."
Mr. Mason laughed, but showed that he was very indignant, and he told
Mr. Dimmock shortly that it was scarcely likely that Dr. Miller would
conceal a fugitive slave under the same roof with a slave-owner,
especially when that owner was his guest. But of the nice laws of
hospitality Mr. Dimmock was quite unconscious, and the doctor didn't
care what anybody said if they could only gain a little time. Mr.
Dimmock said afterwards that the doctor was in a white rage, but he was
quite mistaken; it wasn't rage at all, but a great variety of
conflicting emotions.
As soon as Patty left the room she flew to the store-room, and said, in
a whisper, "Abe, follow me quick. They're after you. Be very still."
He was terribly frightened, but long habit made him absolutely obedient,
and he crept up the back stairs like a cat. They crept through the front
hall, the voices plainly heard below, and Patty showed him how to lift
the trap in the closet floor.
"This is your master's room," she whispered. "Don't even breathe loud,
or you'll be heard. I'll let you out when it's safe. I don't believe
you'll have to stay all night." Then she fitted the trap down carefully,
lifted the light trunk over it, picked up her uncle's shoes and put them
down softly as if they had been thrown in, dropped a soiled collar and
handkerchief from the bureau, and then closed the door softly. Long in
the telling, it had not taken three minutes. Then she ran down stairs.
"Show Mr. Dimmock and his friends about," said her father; "take them
everywhere, Patty."
Patty took a lamp, and Mr. Dimmock said, "Give me another. I always
carry my own light. People have a way of throwing shadows in the wrong
places. The garret first." And when they got there he held his lamp
high, casting its light into every dark corner. "What's that?" he said,
pointing to a dark pile.
"Carpet rags," said Patty.
"Hiding a nigger, likely. You'd better look there, Sterling."
The man tossed the heap over until he came to the floor.
Into every room they went, and opened every closet door, and Patty felt
herself trembling as they came to the door of the closet in her uncle's
room, but grew quiet as she heard herself saying, calmly,
"Now you can hardly suppose that he's in Uncle Tom's room?"
"Well, not 'less he's a _mighty_ cool one," said Mr. Dimmock.
At last they went, and the question was how to get Abe out of the closet
and then out of the house. There was not a moment when it could be done,
for Mr. Mason said he was tired to death, and would go to bed at once.
And go he did, and there was nothing for the doctor to do but to
suddenly remember that he had had a call, and to pretend to start for
it. And after Fanny went upstairs Mrs. Miller and Patty absolutely
groaned when they heard Mr. Mason shut his door and bolt it for the
night. In the morning it did seem as if Mr. Mason and Fanny would never
go down stairs. But at last Mr. Mason appeared below with his cheerful
"Good-morning," and Fanny followed after a little. Then Patty
discovered, as they sat down to the breakfast table, that she had left
her handkerchief upstairs, and she ran up to her uncle's room to release
Abe. As she lifted the trap-door he crawled out, stiff and cramped. She
hurried him up to the garret, for they were obliged to hide him until
night. Poor Abe was so frightened that he could only say,
"Oh, Miss Patty, s'pose Marse Tom come up heah and catch me!"
"Oh, he won't," said Patty; "Uncle Tom never comes up garret." But a
bright thought came to her. "If you hear anybody coming, get under that
pile of rags and pull them over you." And she pushed them together, for
the men had left them strewed all over the floor, and ran down to
breakfast.
A little later she smuggled some food and coffee to Abe, and cautioned
him over and over not to step about at all, lest his footsteps should be
heard below. But at last the long day drew to an end, and the night
came. Silas had again been spirited out of the way; her father had the
light wagon all ready, and they were ready to get Abe out of the garret
and down to the barn.
Patty got her water-colors out to show to Mr. Mason and Fanny just at
the moment that her mother slipped away to get Abe down and out of the
house into the garden. He had to pass through the front hall to get from
the garret stairs to the back stairs, and just at the critical moment,
when she knew that Abe must be passing through the front hall, her uncle
Tom said, "Oh, I've left my glasses upstairs!" and started to go for
them.
"Let me," said Patty, for the whole hall was visible from four steps up
on the front stairs.
"No, I'll go myself," said her uncle Tom, and he moved toward the foot
of the stairs, and for one second Patty felt at her wits' end. Then she
knocked over a vase of flowers on the table. The water ran all over the
pictures. Both girls exclaimed; Mr. Mason turned to help mop it up with
his handkerchief also, and the danger was over.
At breakfast-time the next day Mr. Mason said, "You came in late, or
rather, early. Jack. Did you have a hard night of it?"
"Tiresome," said the doctor.
It was true, for he had driven Abe about sixteen miles up the river.
Abe was sent from Northampton to Canada by rail, and it was not until he
was safe there that Mr. Mason, who was then in Boston, learned from his
overseer of his disappearance; for just as Abe had hoped and supposed,
he had not been missed for several days. Then Mr. Mason, very much cut
up by his running away, went directly back to Virginia with his
daughter.
That was the only time Patty's station ever held a waiting passenger.
FOR KING OR COUNTRY.
A Story of the Revolution.
BY JAMES BARNES.