DISPUTES.
The treasure-house in Eagle's Nest did not turn out quite such a happy
idea as was anticipated. For a few days after causing the ditch to
overflow the children rather avoided that part of the fields. It
seemed prudent not to give Barton any occasion to connect them in his
mind with the extra muddiness of the corner between Eagle's Nest and
the ditch. But when nearly a week had passed by without any awkward
inquiries being made, and it was considered safe to return to their old
haunts, an unpleasant surprise awaited them. Some of their
carefully-stored-away possessions were missing!
John's marbles could nowhere be found. This was a most unfortunate
fact; but when, after a hurried turning out of the contents of the
treasure-house, it became apparent that a pencil also belonging to John
was missing, there was a positive uproar. Betty had only lost an old
pocket-book with all the leaves torn out, and she was not even quite
sure that she had ever put it into the hole. Madge had lost nothing.
"I do say it's a shame!" shouted John positively, dancing about on the
platform of the Eagle's Nest with rage. "It's a horrid shame! All my
things are lost, and--"
"If you stamp so hard your foot will stick in the cracks of the floor,
like the dwarf in the fairy-story," interrupted Madge.
"Oh, it's all very well to laugh! Laugh away!" shouted John. "That's
just like you! Put in all your own things safely enough, and left mine
out! And then you laugh. But I won't stand being bullied by a great
ugly thing--" Here his voice fortunately became choked with angry sobs.
"What is the matter? What nonsense you are talking!" exclaimed Madge
impatiently. "All the things were put into the hole at the same time.
You saw me do it yourself, because I happened to be nearest to the
treasure-house."
"And I believe I saw you pushing my things on one side to make room for
your own!" rejoined John. "And very likely you slily took some of mine
out and threw them away, so that the hole should not be too full."
"Well, if you believe all that you must be a little idiot!" said Madge
scornfully; and Betty cried: "How can you say such things? Of course
she wouldn't!"
"I think she would," asserted John, with irritating obstinacy. "She
thinks she can do as she likes with us and our things. Lewis often
says--"
"So it is Lewis who has been putting all these stupid ideas into your
head?" interrupted Madge. "I could not think why you had become so
discontented and grumbling all of a sudden! Now I see what it is, and
I'll never speak to that sneak again!"
"He is a very nice boy, very nice indeed," repeated John. "And I like
talking to him much better than playing with girls."
"You are welcome to him, I'm sure!" exclaimed Madge tempestuously. "A
horrid sneak who used to be always laughing at you little ones to me,
and calling you silly babies! And then directly my back is turned for
an afternoon, he goes trying to set you against me. No, I don't want
him coming sucking up to me any more, that's certain!" And a good deal
more of the same sort; for when Madge was indignant, she had an
extraordinary flow of very forcible but inelegant language. "Now for
my part I'm going away from here directly," she concluded. "John will
stop and tell tales to his friend, I suppose. Betty can do as she
likes."
Betty did not look as grateful as she might for this kind permission.
She was a peace-loving little person, and always particularly disliked
being called upon to take sides in family disputes.
"Can't we all go away and play together just as we used to, before we
knew Lewis?" she said at last. "We really had more fun then than we
have now, because we were not always afraid that something would be
found out."
"You are quite right!" answered Madge heartily. "We built this Eagle's
Nest to play in, didn't we? But now, instead of playing we are always
watching and waiting for Lewis, and when he comes we can't have any
fun, because if we make a noise somebody may catch us. It seems rather
a sneaking business altogether."
Betty was quite of this opinion. If she had not been drawn on by her
elder sister's enthusiasm in the first instance, she would never have
done anything so boldly naughty as to make friends with a strange boy.
The constant fear of discovery had weighed heavily upon her, and on
more than one occasion lately she had trembled all over if anyone had
called her suddenly, thinking that the whole affair was discovered and
she was about to be blamed. "Yes, do let us play somewhere else. And
then perhaps Lewis will get tired of coming to look for us," she said
fervently.
"At first I was sorry for him," continued Madge, "and I should be now,
only he is so mean. Of course I shall never betray him to anybody, and
get him punished for climbing over the wall. But I won't speak to him
after he has proved a sneak!"
In the end Madge and Betty went off together to play elsewhere, while
John remained behind in the Eagle's Nest, saying that he should wait
there for his friend. But it was not very cheerful work sitting alone
on a bough in sight of that terrible red brick house, after the girls
had disappeared. He would gladly have climbed down and ran after them,
if he had not boasted so loudly of his preference for Lewis's society.
And when Lewis at last came he was not a very cheery companion. John
tried to feel flattered at being left alone with such a big boy, and to
get all the comfort he could out of his companion's abuse of girls in
general, and Madge in particular. But when Lewis began to tell long
dreary stories about the cruel doings that went on under Mrs. Howard's
roof, the small listener soon realized that the presence of a strong
and courageous elder sister would be very comforting indeed. He tried
to keep up his spirits by reflecting that there was no fear of his
being entrapped from the Beechgrove side of the wall.
"Ah! Don't you make too sure of that," said Lewis. "The last boy Mrs.
Howard stole was bigger than you, I think."
"Does she steal children, then?" cried John in terrified accents. "I
didn't know anybody could do that nowadays! Why don't the police stop
her?"
"That's just the question! My belief is that she's more artful than a
whole army of police," answered Lewis. "I don't know how it's done of
course, but I expect that man with a gray beard wanders about the road
after dark and catches them as they are going home from school, perhaps
in the evening--"
"Catches them? What does he catch?" interrupted John.
"Why, catches boys about your size, of course! I've just said so,
haven't I? How stupid you are!" answered Lewis, speaking quite as
contemptuously as Madge in her most overbearing moods. "And then they
are locked into the cellars under the house.--Chained? Oh yes! hand
and foot. Gags in their mouths too, if they groan loudly enough to be
heard. I know the sound when I am awake at night. Mrs. Howard calls
it the wind in the chimneys, but I know better than that."
"But what does she want boys for?" asked John in a trembling voice.
"Nobody knows. Perhaps she sells them as slaves to the black people,
just as black people used to be sold to white. Perhaps she keeps them
prisoners for life in her cellars. Nobody knows." Lewis began to
whistle, and positively declined to give any further information.
"I think I'll go home, it's getting rather late," said John presently.
"And very likely I sha'n't be able to come here to-morrow to meet you.
It doesn't seem quite safe to come every day if that dreadful man is
always on the look-out. Besides, I don't think I shall have much time
after lessons, some days we dig in our gardens."
"You aren't afraid to come without your sisters, I suppose? It looks
remarkably like it," said Lewis disagreeably.
"No! of course not!" cried John, as he hurriedly scrambled out of the
tree.
In another moment he was in full flight home. It did not require much
persuasion on Betty's part that evening to convince him that, after
all, one's own brothers and sisters are much safer and pleasanter
companions than any chance strangers.
"But," concluded Betty, "though Lewis talks so much about the dangers
he goes through I don't believe he is half as brave as Madge. See how
she plunged into that water the other day without hesitating an
instant, though it was very cold, for my hands were quite blue after
sailing my boat. It's so odd how water keeps cold even in the summer!
But I don't think Lewis could have done it. He made such a fuss when
he scratched his hand with a sharp stone in the wall one day. Of
course he is very brave about being shut up in those dreadful cellars;
only I don't think they can be quite so dreadful as he pretends, or
nobody could bear them."
"Don't you think it is quite true about the cellars, then?" asked John,
eagerly grasping at a ray of hope. If the cellars were not dungeons
swarming with toads, then there might also be some mistake about little
boys being stolen and sold as slaves to black people. So he waited
anxiously for Betty's opinion on the subject.
"Well, I suppose it is true that he is shut up in those dark places,"
she replied thoughtfully; "because, you see, he can tell us all about
them; the slimy walls I mean, and the black pools of dirty water. Only
I don't believe he is quite as brave as he makes out. I dare say he
cries and screams when he is locked in."
This answer did not do much to calm John's fears. After some natural
hesitation at owning himself in the wrong, he said shyly:
"I don't think I care so very much about Lewis after all. He bullies
just as much as Madge, and doesn't play such amusing games either."
"No, indeed he doesn't!" chimed in Betty eagerly. "It was much more
amusing before we knew him, and there was no hiding things and being
afraid of being found out. It doesn't seem right when we are trusted
to go out by ourselves--"
"Oh, I don't know about that!" interrupted John. "I can't see any harm
in it, not for me at least, because I am a boy, and boys don't stop to
ask whether they may speak to people. I dare say you and Madge ought
not to have done it, as you are girls. But," he added, rather less
grandly, "I think I will play with you to-morrow instead of going to
talk to Lewis. That's to say, I will come if Madge won't be nasty and
disagreeable."
"Of course she won't! I'll talk to her about it, and she will be right
enough when she hears you are not going to follow Lewis any more!"
cried Betty, rejoicing in the prospect of the good time coming when
they would once more all three play harmoniously together, without the
interference of any mischief-making stranger.