IT ENGAGES AUNT SARAH'S ATTENTION
Ruth, as has been said, was away from the house when this dreadful thing
happened to Tom Jonah. Uncle Rufus was too lame to have followed the dog
catchers' van in any case, had he seen the capture of their pet.
But Mrs. MacCall and Aunt Sarah were sitting together sewing in the
latter's big front room over the dining-room of the Corner House.
Looking out of the window by which she sat, and biting off a thread
reflectively, the housekeeper said:
"It's on my mind, Miss Maltby, that our Ruth is not so chirpy as she
used to be."
"She's growing up," said Aunt Sarah. "I'll be glad when they're all
grown up." And then she added something that would have quite shocked
all four of the Corner House girls. "I'll be glad when they are all
grown up, and married, and settled down."
"My certie! but you are in haste, woman," gasped the housekeeper. "And
it sounds right-down wicked. Wishing the bairns' lives away."
"Do you realize what it's going to mean--these next four or five years?"
snapped Aunt Sarah.
"In what way, Miss Maltby?" asked Mrs. MacCall.
"For us," said Aunt Sarah, nodding emphatically. "We're going to have
the house cluttered up with boys and young men who will want to marry my
nieces."
"Lawk!" gasped the housekeeper. "Will they be standin' in line, think
you? Not but the bonny lassies deserve the best there is--"
"Which isn't saying much when it comes to a choice of _men_," Aunt Sarah
sniffed.
"Well," returned Mrs. MacCall, slowly, "of course there'll be none
worthy of the lassies. None who deserves our Ruthie. Yet--I'm
thinkin'--that that young laddie that was here now--you know, Miss
Maltby. Luke Shepard."
"A likeable boy," admitted Aunt Sarah, and that was high praise from the
critical spinster.
"Aye," Mrs. MacCall hastened to say, "a very fine young man indeed. And
I am moved to say Ruthie liked him."
"Eh!" exclaimed Aunt Sarah.
"You maybe didn't see it. It was plain to me. They two were very fond of
each other. Yes, indeed!"
"My niece _fond_ of a boy?" gasped the spinster, bridling.
"Why! were ye not just now speakin' of such a possibeelity?" demanded
the housekeeper, and in her surprise, dropping for the moment into broad
Scotch. "And they are baith of them old enough tae be thinkin' of
matin'. Yes!"
Aunt Sarah still stared in amazement. "Can it be _that_ that seems to
have changed Ruth so?" she asked at last.
"You've noticed it?" cried the Scotchwoman.
"Yes. As you have suggested, she seems down-hearted. But why--"
"There's something that went wrong. 'Love's young dream,' as they say,
is having a partial eclipse, so it is! I see no letters comin' from that
college where the laddie has gone."
"But she hears from Cecile Shepard," said Aunt Sarah. "She reads me
extracts from Cecile's letters. A very lively and pleasant girl is
Cecile."
"So she is," admitted the housekeeper. "But I'm a sight more interested
in the laddie. Why doesn't he write?"
"Why--er--would that be quite the thing, Mrs. MacCall?" asked Aunt
Sarah, momentarily losing much of her grimness and seemingly somewhat
fluttered by this discussion of Ruth's affair.
"'Twould be almost necessary, Miss Maltby, I can tell you, if he was a
laddie of mine," declared the Scotchwoman vigorously. "I'd no have a
sweetheart that was either tongue-tied or unable to write."
"Oh, but you take too much for granted," cried Aunt Sarah.
"My observation tells me the two of them are fair lost on each other. I
watched 'em while young Shepard was here. It's true they are young; but
they'll never be younger, and it's the young lovin' and matin' was made
for--not for old bodies."
"You--you quite surprise me," said Aunt Sarah.
"You'd best get over your surprise, Miss Maltby," said the very
practical housekeeper. "You should have your eyes opened. You should see
them together again."
"Why not?" demanded Aunt Sarah, suddenly.
"Why not what?"
"Let the children have Cecile and her brother here for over Sunday--for
a week end. Let them give a little party. I am sure I loved parties when
I was a young girl and lived at this Corner House, when mother was
alive."
"It's a good idea," said the housekeeper. "I'll make some layer cakes
for the party. We'll not need to go to the expense of a caterer--"
She would have gone on immediately planning for the affair had she not,
on glancing through the window, seen the dog catchers' green van
rattling over the crossing of Main Street.
"There's those dog catchers!" she exclaimed. "I wonder if Tom Jonah's
safe. There are some children running and crying after it--they've lost
a pet I've no doubt."
Then suddenly she sprang to her feet.
"Miss Maltby!" she cried. "'Tis our Tess and Dot--and Sammy Pinkney, the
little scamp! It must be either his bulldog or old Tom Jonah those
pestilent men have caught."
Aunt Sarah had very good eyes indeed. She had already spied the party
and she could see in the back of the van.
"It is Tom Jonah!" she exclaimed. "They must be stopped. How dared those
men take our dog?"
Mrs. MacCall, who had no shoes on, could not hurry out. But Aunt Sarah
was dressed for company as she always was in the afternoon. She amazed
the sputtering housekeeper by stopping only to throw a fleecy hood over
her hair before hurrying out of the front door of the Corner House.
Aunt Sarah Maltby seldom left the premises save for church on Sunday.
She did not even ride much in the girls' motor-car. She had made up her
mind that an automobile was an unnecessary luxury and a "new-fangled
notion" anyway; therefore she seldom allowed herself to be coaxed into
the car.
She never went calling, claiming vigorously that she was "no gadabout,
she hoped." It was an astonishing sight, therefore, to see her marching
along Willow Street in the wake of the crying, excited children, who
themselves followed in the wake of the dog catchers' van.
The van traveled so fast that Tess and Dot and Sammy could scarcely keep
it in sight; while the children were so far ahead of Aunt Sarah that the
old woman could not attract their attention when she called.
It was a most embarrassing situation, to say the least. To add to its
ridiculousness, Mrs. MacCall met Agnes as she came in swinging her
books, and told her at the side door what had happened.
Agnes flung down her books and "hoo-hooed" with all her might for Neale
O'Neil. As soon as he answered, sticking his head out of his little
bedroom window under the eaves of Con Murphy's cottage, Agnes left the
housekeeper and the excited Finnish girl to explain the difficulty to
Neale, while she ran after Aunt Sarah.
Soon, therefore, there was a procession of excited Corner House folk
trailing through the Milton Streets to the pound. Sammy and the two
little girls trotting on behind the dog catchers' van; then Aunt Sarah
Maltby, looking neither to right nor left but appearing very stern
indeed; then Agnes running as hard as she could run; followed by Neale
at a steady lope.
The boy soon overtook his girl chum.
"What under the canopy are we going to do?" he demanded.
"Save Tom Jonah!" declared Agnes, her cheeks blazing.
"The kids are going to do that," chuckled Neale in spite of his
shortness of breath. "Guess we'd better save Aunt Sarah, hadn't we?"
"Goodness, Neale!" giggled Agnes, "they won't try to shut _her_ up in
the pound I should hope."
They did not overtake the determined woman before she was in sight of
the dog refuge. The van had driven into the yard. Before the gate could
be shut Tess, followed closely by the trembling Dot and by the more or
less valiant Sammy, pushed through likewise and faced the superintendent
of the lost dog department.
"What do you little folks want?" asked this kindly man, smiling down
upon the trio.
"We want Tom Jonah," said Tess, her voice quivering but her manner still
brave.
"You've just got to give us Tom Jonah," Dot added, gulping down a sob.
"You bet you have!" said Sammy, clenching his fists.
"'Tom Jonah'?" repeated the man. "Is that a dog?"
Tess pointed. There was Tom Jonah at the screened door of the van.
"That's him," she said. "He never did anybody any harm. These men just
_stole_ him."
That was pretty strong language for Tess Kenway to use; but she was
greatly overwrought.
"You mean they took him out of your yard?"
"They took him off'n the street," said Sammy. "But he'd only jumped the
fence because he saw us comin' home from school."
"He isn't muzzled," said the man.
"He--he don't bite," wailed Dot. "He--he ain't got any teeth to bite!"
He was an old dog as the superintendent could see. Besides, he knew that
his men were more eager to secure the fines than they were to be kind
or fair to the owners of dogs.
"How about this, Harry?" he asked the driver of the van.
"The dog's ugly as sin," growled the man. "Ain't he, Bill?"
"Tried to chew me up," declared the man with the net.
"Say!" blurted out Sammy, "wouldn't _you_ try to chew a feller up if he
caught you in a fish-net and dragged you to a wagon like that? Huh!"
Harry burst out laughing. The superintendent said, quietly:
"Let the big dog out."
"Not me, Boss," said Bill, backing away. "That dog's got it in for me."
"Let me!" exclaimed Tess. "Tom Jonah would not bite any of us--not even
if he had hydrophobia. No, sir!"
"Of course he wouldn't!" acclaimed Dot. "But he couldn't have
hydro--hydro-- Well, whatever that is."
"Keep those other dogs back, Bill, and let the little girl have her Tom
Jonah," said the superintendent. "I guess there's been a mistake. These
are the Corner House girls, and that is their old dog. I remember him.
He wouldn't harm a fly."
"No. But he'd chaw the leg off'n me, Boss," said Bill, who did not like
dogs and therefore was afraid of them. "Besides, all's fish that comes
into _my_ net, you know."
"Go away," commanded the other man, taking the long pole himself. "I
will let him out."
"Oh, Tom Jonah!" cried Tess, running to the door of the van. "Be good
now. The man is going to let you out and we will take you home."
The old dog stopped whining but he did not, as Sammy whispered to Dot,
look any too pleasant. When the superintendent opened the door, after
crowding back the smaller dogs that filled the van, Tess called to Tom
Jonah to come out. He leaped down. The next instant he whirled and would
have charged the two men who had caused him such discomfort and
disgrace, his jaws emitting terrific growls.
"Stop, Tom Jonah!" from Tess and Dot, and "Cut it out, Tom Jonah!" from
Sammy, were all that saved the day. The dog had never yet been cowed of
spirit and, old as he was, he would have attacked a lion, let alone a
pair of faint-hearted rowdies.
"Take my advice, boys," said the superintendent of the pound. "Don't go
around that block by the old Corner House again. This old fellow will
not forget either of you."
"He ought to be shot," growled Bill.
"You do such a thing--such a desperately wicked thing!" exclaimed a
sharp voice, "and I will see that you are prosecuted to the full extent
of the law."
It was Aunt Sarah who appeared like an angel of wrath at the gateway.
"Mr. Howbridge shall know about your actions--you two men there! And as
for you," the indignant old woman added, fixing her gaze upon the
superintendent of the pound, "let me tell you that the Stower estate
makes a contribution yearly to your Society, which contribution partly
pays your salary. I hold _you_ responsible for the character of the men
you engage to collect the poor dogs who are neglected and who have no
homes. They are not supposed to take the pets of people who amply care
for dumb animals. Another occasion like this and you will hear from
it--mark my word, sir!"
"Oh, my!" sighed Dot, afterward, her eyes still round with wonder, "I
never did suppose Aunt Sarah could speak so big. Isn't she just
wonnerful?"
While the children were caressing Tom Jonah and the superintendent was
striving to pacify the indignant Aunt Sarah, Agnes and Neale came
panting to the pound.
"Guess it's all over but the shouting," said Neale, with satisfaction.
"Down, Tom Jonah! Down, with you! Don't jump all over my best suit of
clothes."
"And spare me your kisses, good old fellow!" begged Agnes. "We know just
how glad you are to get out of jail. Who wouldn't be?"
"Je-ru-sa-_lem_!" ejaculated Sammy Pinkney; "who'd ha' thought of Tom
Jonah getting pinched?"
Before the party got away from the pound, Ruth came racing down in the
automobile. Returning from her first drive alone as a licensed
chauffeur, she had heard of the family's migration to the pound and had
come in haste to the rescue of Tom Jonah--and the remainder of the
Corner House party.
"For goodness' sake! do get into the automobile and act as though we'd
just come for a ride," exclaimed the oldest Corner House girl. "Did ever
any one hear of such ridiculous things as happen to us?"
"You need not be so snippy," said Agnes, in some heat. "If Tom Jonah had
actually been put into that awful gas chamber they tell about--"
"They don't do such things until it is positive that nobody will claim
the dog--unless he really is afflicted with rabies," Ruth said. "I'm
surprised at Aunt Sarah."
"You needn't be, young lady," said Miss Maltby. "You needn't be
surprised at anything I may do. I have long known that I belonged to a
family of crazy people, and now I guess I've proved myself as crazy as
any of you."
However, they could laugh at it after a while. And they did not begrudge
any trouble to save poor old Tom Jonah from inconvenience. While the
children were away at school thereafter they were careful to put the
old dog on a long leash in a shady corner of the yard.
After all, Tom Jonah had been a vagabond for a good part of his life,
and old as he was sometimes the spirit of what Agnes called "the
wanderlust" (she was just beginning German) came over him and he would
go away to visit friends for two or three days at a time.
"He'll go visiting no more at present," Ruth said with decision.
However, other plans for visiting progressed. Aunt Sarah and Mrs.
MacCall proceeded to carry out their conspiracy. The suggestion was made
at just the right time, and in the right way, for Cecile and Luke to be
invited to the old Corner House for a week-end party, and the party
itself was planned.
So it came to pass that Cecile Shepard wrote her brother Luke that very
next week:
"I suppose, Luke dear, you have received your invitation to Ruth's
party. Of course, dear boy, we must both go. I would not
disappoint or offend her for the world--nor must you. Buck up, old
pal! This is a hard row to hoe, but I guess you'll have to hoe it
alone. I can only sit on the fence and root for you.
"Aunt Lorena declares the world is coming to an end. Neighbor sent
Samri over to the house to ask Auntie what Ruth's last name was
and how to find her. He was so mad with you that night you told
him, he evidently did not catch her name. And then, Aunt Lorena
says, the very next morning Neighbor started out and was gone all
day.
"He could not have gone to see Ruth. Of course not! Certain sure
if he had, I should have heard of it from either Ruth herself or
from Agnes. But he _might_ have gone to Milton to make inquiries
about her.
"However, I am afraid whatever he did that day he was away, it did
not please him. He returned about dark, blew up Samri in the yard
for some little thing, rampaged around in his most awful way, and
finally, Aunt Lorena says, she could hear him scolding the butler
all through dinner and half the evening. Then, she believes, the
poor old Jap crept into the toolshed to spend the rest of the
night out of sound of his master's voice."
Luke would certainly not have gone to Milton and to the Corner House at
this time save that he, like his sister, could not offend those who had
been so kind to him there. And he was hungry for a sight of Ruth!
Seeing her, he feared, would not aid him to be manly and put his desires
aside while he fought his way through college. He knew that Neighbor
would do exactly what he had said. Never could he look to the old
gentleman for a friendly word, or a bit of help over a hard financial
place again. As Mr. Henry Northrup was so fond of saying, he always said
what he meant and meant what he said!
The party was to be on Saturday evening, and the Friday when the
Shepards had promised to arrive at the Corner House came, and Luke and
Cecile went their separate ways to Milton by train. As he had not sent
word by just what train he would arrive the young man did not expect
anybody to meet him. He walked up from the station with his suitcase and
came in sight of the old Corner House without being spied by anybody on
the premises.
A wintry wind was blowing, and the great shade trees about the house
were almost bare of leaves. Yet the Stower homestead could never look
anything but cheerful and homelike. Luke quickened his pace as he
approached the gate. There was somebody inside that old house, he was
quite sure, whom he longed desperately to see.
He opened the gate and swung up the walk to the door. Bounding up the
steps he reached forth his hand to touch the annunciator button when he
caught sight of something standing on the porch beside the
door--something that brought a gasp of amazement from his lips and
actually caused him to turn pale.