AFTER THE PARTY.
The next morning after the ball Mr. Smith arose very cross, and Mrs.
Smith slept late, so late that Jerusha Maria grew fearfully impatient,
and, having slept off her liberal share of the paregoric, wanted to have
the usual rough and tumble romp on her mother’s bed. This desire the
drowsy woman repulsed with a half-angry growl, that made the child first
open her eyes wide with astonishment, then fill her mouth with indignant
screams.
This outcry James was expected to pacify, while Kate Gorman got the
breakfast in grim discontent, for she too was suffering from want of
sleep, and took vengeance on the gridiron and coffee-mill, which she
banged about viciously, and ground with the fury of a Nemesis.
While Smith eat his solitary breakfast, which was in itself enough to
sour any man’s temper, the coffee being thick with grounds, and the
fried potatoes bitter with smoke, Boyce opened the store, and dragged
forth his baskets and boxes of merchandise under the sheltering awning;
he made a respectable display of vegetables left over from the previous
night, and fruit with a suspicion of decay creeping through it; for
Smith had slept too late for the early market hour, and even his stock
in trade felt the effect of that one night’s advent into high life, the
splendor of which had demoralized his home.
Thus it chanced that the store work came entirely to Boyce, and that
interesting child, with her screams, her kicks, and wonderful capacity
for hair-tugging, fell to James, while Kate scolded, and Mrs. Smith
slept.
In vain the lad tried to hush the indignant young lady; in vain he bent
his head, and offered a splendid mass of raven curls for her hands to
revel in. Once or twice, I am afraid, he was tempted to shake her
soundly; in fact, he did practice a little in that line, but ended it
all in fun, and finished by making up faces, that turned her continuous
howl into shrieks of laughter.
At last Smith went down stairs, wondering if there was no way of
stopping that child’s noise, and wishing that he were a woman with
nothing to do but sleep till noon, contented as a lamb, with an Irish
girl slamming things about, and a jerky child yelling Hail Columbia in
his ears.
Mrs. Smith was too soundly asleep to hear this sarcasm, and the young
lady aforesaid set up a new tune of offence, feeling deeply wronged,
when her father passed down stairs, without an effort to appease her
grief.
James struggled under these difficulties with wonderful patience; he
tossed Miss Smith into the air till she caught her breath like a
sun-fish out of water. He set her down in his lap, and trotted her to
Boston, with the agility of a race horse. He exhibited a pair of red
morocco boots on her own little feet, which filled her with a moment’s
admiration, and a burst of fervent laughter. He carried her to the
window, and pointed out her father, who was talking with Boyce in front
of the store, in an earnest and rather excited manner, which did not at
first strike him as singular, as everybody was restless and excited that
morning. But there was something strange about Boyce, who seemed to be
talking in a low, eager way, and watching the thunder-cloud on his
employer’s face, with keen, sidelong glances, that struck the lad who
looked on as false and sinister.
Even the child seemed to notice something strange about her father, and
stopped crying suddenly. For some unaccountable reason the boy’s heart
fell, and he watched the two as they walked back into the store with a
feeling of vague apprehension. Why, a wiser person than himself could
not have told; for he had done no wrong, and had no enemies, unless the
young fellow, Boyce, was one.
This was what had occurred in the store below. In the hurry of
preparation for Mrs. Carter’s party, a considerable amount of money had
been left in the desk, a circumstance that seldom happened, and which
Smith had always provided against, by a deposit every afternoon. Before
going up to dress, he had locked the desk, and put the key in his
pocket, leaving it there when he changed his clothes. When he went down
in the morning, this money was gone, and with it some of the more
expensive portions of his stock—two or three small boxes of choice tea,
which bore his private mark, and other articles, amounting to the value
of several hundred dollars.
Now, these things might have been removed from the store by one person,
but a horse and wagon must have been used to carry them away, if they
were taken any distance. It had been considerably after nine the night
before when Smith and his wife started for the party. Boyce had gone out
with Kate Gorman directly after, as he confessed, having been locked out
by James Laurence, who retained possession of the key. How then could
this robbery have taken place before ten.
Kate Gorman had been about all the time, and so was James, who was
anxious, Boyce said, that the key should be left with him. This was all
that Boyce knew of the matter. He and Kate Gorman had been together all
the time after they left the store, till they returned to it. Early in
the evening they had watched the guests going into the Carter mansion;
then they had been at the Bowery theatre. In fact, every minute of his
time could be accounted for.
But the boy James, Boyce knew nothing about him, only that he wanted to
stay at home, that he was rather anxious to keep the key, and had
fastened the door after them when he and Kate went out. Of course there
was nothing wrong about that. True, money had been missing in small sums
more than once; but thieves were adroit, and, in the hurry of business,
the money drawer was left exposed sometimes. There was no reason to
suspect James, because a few dollars had been found missing now and
then.
But for these sagacious hints, perhaps, Mr. Smith never would have
suspected the boy. He knew how adroit burglars could be, and his
thoughts naturally turned in that direction: but Boyce had managed to
unite the boy with this very idea. Burglars always have accomplices, he
said, frequently among the servant girls; but that could not be true of
Kate Gorman, who was honest as the day was long; besides, she had been
with him all the time. No, no, it could not possibly be Kate Gorman, nor
James. Things might look a little squally in his direction; but the
little chap was true as steel; to suspect him was just nonsense.
Smith said little. He was a shrewd, close man, who kept his thoughts and
his money very much to himself. He questioned Boyce closely enough, and
imbibed suspicious conscientiously, that influenced his after action to
a cruel extent; but he came to no definite conclusion for that day at
least. This much he settled. Mrs. Smith was to know nothing of the
robbery; first, because discovery was not likely to spring out of much
talking, and again, because his wife had warned him of danger in having
so much money in the store. Besides, what was the use of telling her?
Women were always Marplots in such affairs. No, no, he would betake
himself to a sharp detective, get the property back, and then inform his
wife. Fortunately, she would be far too sleepy that day for any special
interest in his affairs.
Boyce was very willing to be silent; in fact he did not take lovingly to
the investigation, and was glad to be rid of it; his face had been
unusually pale from the first, and he moved uneasily when Smith’s eyes
were upon him, as if the thought of having drawn suspicion on that young
boy were distressing him.
Not even to Kate Gorman did the grocer mention his loss; but he
questioned her in a cautious way, and got full confirmation of all that
Boyce had said. After this, he went to a detective, and set him on the
alert.