LOUIS'S ADVENTURE.
On this evening, immediately after supper had been eaten and the dishes
washed, Aunt Nancy announced that it would be necessary for her to call
upon Mr. Daniel Chick.
"If I wait until morning his team may not be at home, and, besides, I
want him to be ready to make an early start. We must be back by noon at
the latest."
"Why not let me go and tell him what you want?" Jack asked.
"Because you don't know where he lives, and then again it is necessary
to pass Mr. Dean's in order to reach his house. William might be at
home, and who knows what would happen?"
Then Aunt Nancy made a hurried toilet, clothing herself in one of those
quaint costumes which Jack did not think at all becoming, and said, as
she entered the kitchen again,--
"You must promise not to step your foot out of doors while I am gone.
Keep everything well locked, and if any one should happen to call don't
show yourself without first learning who they are."
Jack agreed, and while the little woman was absent he rocked Louis to
sleep, swept the floor until one would have said a broom ought to be
ashamed for going over such a cleanly surface with any idea of
collecting dirt, and was in the "fore-room" with a lighted candle
admiring the crockery rooster when Aunt Nancy returned.
"It's me, Jack dear!" she cried as she knocked softly on the door, and
when it was opened, entered with the air of one who has been successful.
"I got there just in time. He was going over to Henry Mitchell's to tell
him he'd haul gravel to-morrow; but of course he had rather go to
Treat's, for the work isn't so hard on either himself or his horse. Now
we must get to bed early, for I told him I wanted to start by sunrise at
the very latest."
"But, Aunt Nancy, you don't mean that I am to stay in the house with the
doors locked all the forenoon, do you? There are lots of things I could
do; but it would be pretty warm if there wasn't any chance for air."
"I suppose you might have the doors open, provided you kept a sharp
watch on the road, and closed them again in case that Dean boy or his
associates should come," the little woman replied thoughtfully.
"What shall I do?"
"You could clean the knives and forks, and wash all the best dishes
through two waters. Be careful when you wipe them, Jack dear, for it
would be terrible if any should be broken."
After these arrangements had been made, Aunt Nancy remained silent a
short time to free her mind from worldly thoughts, and then came the
evening devotions, when the little woman prayed earnestly for the "weary
and heavy laden," which Jack thought was a reference to herself and the
expected company.
It was yet dark next morning when a noise from the kitchen aroused the
hunchback, and hurrying down he found Aunt Nancy busily engaged
preparing breakfast.
"Why, you must have stayed awake all night!" he exclaimed in surprise.
"Indeed I wasn't so foolish as to do anything of the kind; but when I
have work on hand I like to be about it, and goodness knows there's
plenty for me to do between now and to-morrow night."
"Did you wake Louis?"
"No; let him sleep as long as he chooses. You can dress and give him
some bread and milk?"
"That part of it will be all right," Jack replied confidently, and then
he prepared to astonish old crumple-horn by appearing before her while
it was yet so dark that she could hardly see the lunch of clover to
which she was accustomed during milking time.
Breakfast had been cooked, eaten, and the dishes washed before Mr.
Daniel Chick and his venerable horse came up the lane.
Aunt Nancy was not only ready for the journey, but had begun to grow
impatient because of the delay, when he reined up in front of the broad
stone step as he said in a cheery tone, calculated to soothe any angry
feelings,--
"Well, I must say you're a master hand at gettin' up, Aunt Nancy. 'Pears
like as if you was allers on foot like a sparrer."
"I try to do what I have on hand in good season," was the rather sharp
reply. "There would be less poor folks in this world if people didn't
dally round in such a shiftless manner."
Mr. Chick knew full well that this remark was aimed especially at him;
but like a wise man he made no reply lest worse should follow, and
turned the wheels of the wagon that the little woman might have no
trouble in clambering on board.
Aunt Nancy stopped only long enough to give some parting advice to Jack.
"Be sure to keep a sharp watch on the road if you have the doors open,"
she whispered, "and don't go out, even into the yard, unless it is
absolutely necessary, for nobody knows what may happen. When you wash
the best dishes be careful, Jack dear, for I should feel very badly in
case any were broken."
"I'll attend to it in great shape, Aunt Nancy."
"Don't give Louis too much milk at a time, the weather is so hot that it
might curdle on his stomach; and if I don't succeed in getting home
until afternoon, there is some cold meat and cake on the hanging shelf
in the cellar. Don't go without a lunch; it is very unhealthy to work
while you are hungry."
"Who's dallying now, Aunt Nancy?" Mr. Chick cried as he tried to prevent
his horse from nibbling at the honeysuckle-bush.
"If you had come as you agreed I should have had plenty of time to
attend to matters," was the sharp reply; and then with many injunctions
for him to keep a firm hold on the reins, the little woman succeeded in
gaining the rather shaky seat.
"Take good care of Louis!" she cried as the horse ambled slowly down the
lane; and Jack re-entered the house feeling decidedly lonely at the
prospect of being without Aunt Nancy for several hours.
In order to occupy his mind he set about the work laid out, and was so
industrious that before the baby made known the fact of being awake, the
knives and forks had been cleaned.
Fully an hour was spent dressing and feeding Louis, after which he was
allowed to play on the kitchen floor while his crooked guardian washed
the "best dishes."
This was a task which required considerable time, and at eleven o'clock
it was hardly more than half finished.
Then again Louis wanted milk, and when it had been given him he insisted
upon being allowed to go out on the doorstep.
At first Jack was disposed to keep him in the house; but when he became
fretful, gave him his own way, as he said half to himself,--
"I don't s'pose there can be any harm in lettin' you stay here; but if
anything _should_ happen, Aunt Nancy would think I had been careless."
After that he kept a strict watch over the baby, going to the door every
few moments, and on each occasion finding Louis playing contentedly
with a string of buttons the little woman had prepared for him.
The fact that he showed no disposition to leave the broad stone caused
Jack to have less care than usual, and this, coupled with the idea of
cleaning the most elaborate dishes, rendered him oblivious to the flight
of time.
He was brought to a realization of what was passing around by hearing
the rumble of a carriage in the lane, and almost before he could reach
the door, Aunt Nancy was in the house, while Mr. Chick had driven away
at the full speed of his very slow horse.
"Did you get along all right, Jack dear?" the little woman asked, as she
deposited an armful of bundles on the table.
"Yes, indeed. You see there has been plenty of work, and it doesn't seem
any time since you left."
"Where is the baby?"
"On the doorstep. He fussed to go out, an' I thought the fresh air
wouldn't do him any harm."
"Which doorstep?"
"Why here, of course"; and Jack stepped forward only to give vent to a
cry of alarm an instant later. "He isn't here at all! Where do you
suppose he could have gone?"
Aunt Nancy was at the door before he ceased speaking, and gazed up and
down the yard in bewilderment, but without seeing any signs of the
missing baby.
For an instant the two stood gazing at each other in perplexity, and
then Aunt Nancy asked sharply,--
"How long since you saw him?"
"It didn't seem many minutes before you came; but I s'pose it must have
been, else he'd be 'round here now."
"Run up to the barn and see if he is there!"
As she spoke the little woman went down the lane, returning just as Jack
came back.
"He isn't there," the latter said.
"Nor on the road. Of course he must be somewhere near, for children
can't disappear entirely in such a mysterious fashion. Go up the lane
and I'll look back of the barn."
"But then we shall be leaving the barn alone You stay here an' I'll do
the searchin'."
"It wouldn't make any difference if we left the house wide open for a
month, I couldn't stand still while that dear little baby is wandering
around nobody knows where."
Jack understood that it would be useless to remonstrate, and started off
at full speed.
Up to the entire length of the lane he ran without finding that for
which he sought, and then back to the house where he was met by Aunt
Nancy on whose wrinkled face was written fear and anguish.
She did not wait for him to tell her that the search had been in vain,
but cried,--
"Go up through the field from the shed. There is a place where he might
have gotten through the fence, and it would lead directly to the duck
pond if he kept on in a straight line!"
There was a tone in her voice which told of the fear she had regarding
the possible ending of his adventures; and Jack, with a mental prayer
that he would find the little fellow before it was too late, ran across
the enclosure, Aunt Nancy going in the same direction, but at a slight
angle.
The little woman's anxiety gave fleetness to her feet, and she travelled
even faster than Jack could.
Both called loudly from time to time, but without receiving any answer,
and Jack's heart grew heavy as he thought of what might have happened
while he was in the house all unconscious of impending trouble.
As the two neared the pond the figure of a boy could be distinguished
among the foliage of alders running at full speed toward the main road,
and Jack shouted to Aunt Nancy,--
"There goes one of Bill Dean's gang. They know where Louis is."
This caused the little woman to redouble her cries, and a few seconds
later two more boys could be dimly seen as they hurried away, keeping
well within the shelter of the bushes to avoid recognition.
There was no longer any question in Jack's mind but that he would soon
find the baby, nor was he mistaken.
On arriving in view of the pond both saw a rudely constructed raft of
fence rails at least ten yards from the shore, and on it, crowing and
laughing as if he was having the jolliest possible time sat Louis.
"How can we reach him?" Aunt Nancy cried, as she stood wringing her
hands, while the big tears ran down her cheeks. "He will surely be
drowned, Jack! What is to be done?"
The hunchback had no thought of his own safety or discomfort as compared
with that of rescuing the baby.
Without hesitation he ran into the pond, continuing on at risk of being
mired, until the water was above his waist, and the baby held out his
hands to be taken.
[Illustration: Jack ran into the pond, until the water was above his
waist, and the baby held out his hands to be taken.--Page 147.]
"Sit still Louis, sit still an' Jack will come to you!"
It was impossible to run very fast through the water; and to Aunt Nancy,
who stood on the bank in helpless grief, it seemed as if the deformed
lad hardly moved, so slow was his progress.
More than once did it appear as if the baby would attempt to leave the
raft in order to meet his crooked guardian; but by dint of coaxing, Jack
succeeded in persuading him to remain seated until he gained his side.
Then he lifted the child in his arms, staggering ashore to where the
little woman stood waiting to receive him, and the rescue was
accomplished.
Aunt Nancy alternately laughed and cried as she pressed Louis closely to
her bosom, and Jack stood silently by, wondering whether he was to be
scolded for having so grossly neglected his charge.
It was several moments before she paid any attention to the older boy,
and then it was to exclaim,--
"Mercy on us, Jack! I had entirely forgotten you! Run home as soon as
possible, or you will catch your death a cold!"
"A wettin' won't hurt me on a warm day like this. I'm used to such
things."
"But you must change your clothes at once, and there's no other way but
to put on one of my dresses again."
Jack gave no heed to this suggestion, or command, whichever it might be
called. He was trying to understand how the baby could have come so far
without assistance, when Aunt Nancy said suddenly,--
"It doesn't take one loner to realize how the dear little fellow came
here. Those wicked boys must have found him near the shed, and brought
him to this place."
Several poles lying near by told how the raft was forced toward the
centre of the pond, and the fact that three fellows had been seen
running through the bushes was sufficient proof, at least to Aunt Nancy
and Jack, that Bill Dean and his friends had done the mischief.
"I should forget everything I ought to remember if I had that Dean boy
here this minute!" the little woman said angrily as she surveyed the
evidences of the cruel work. "It is a burning shame that such as he
should be allowed among decent people!"
"We don't know for certain that it was Bill Dean," Jack suggested.
"Yes, we do, for there is no other boy in this town who does such
things. I shall see his father again, and when I do it will be very hard
work to rule my spirit."
"It only makes them worse to complain."
"Then I will have him arrested!" And now Aunt Nancy spoke in such an
angry tone that Jack did not venture to reply; but he knew from past
experience that she would soon be sorry for having given way to her
temper.
Again the little woman spoke of Jack's condition as if she had not
noticed it before, and insisted on his coming home at once, although she
could not have supposed he wished to go anywhere else.
Louis apparently had no idea he had been exposed to danger, but laughed
and pulled at the tiny ringlets either side Aunt Nancy's face until her
anger vanished, and she said in a tone of penitence,--
"Really, Jack dear, I get frightened sometimes when I realize how wicked
I am growing. I can't seem to control my temper in anything which
concerns the baby, and goodness knows how it is all going to end. I
began by telling a lie, and now say terrible things on the slightest
provocation, though goodness knows this would have stirred up almost
any one. You see I took the first step, which is the hardest, and now
fall before the least temptation."
"You oughtent talk that way, Aunt Nancy. If everybody was as good as you
are, this would be an awful nice place to live in."
The little woman shook her head as if reproaching him for his words of
praise, but did not continue the subject, because by this time they had
arrived at the house, and it was necessary she should get the garments
Jack had worn once before.
Again the hunchback received a ducking under the pump, and then went out
to the barn to make his toilet.
"Come back as soon as you can, for I want to show you what I bought, and
between us we must decide what we shall have for supper to-morrow."
When Jack returned to the house, Aunt Nancy had her purchases arranged
on the table that he might see them to the best advantage, and then came
the discussion of what was a very important matter in the little woman's
mind.
"I bought citron so as to make that kind of cake if you think it would
be nicer than sponge, though I have always been very fortunate in making
sponge cake, and that is a good deal more than most people can say."
"Why not have both kinds?"
"I declare I never thought of that. It is the very thing, and I'll begin
at once while you finish the dishes. This time we'll see if between both
of us we can't keep Louis away from those wicked boys. I got a nice ham,
for that is always good cold, and I engaged two chickens from Daniel
Chick. Had we better have them roasted or boiled?"
"I thought this was to be only a supper."
"That's what it is; but it would never do to have but one kind of cold
meat. Why, if you'll believe me, Mrs. Souders had chicken, ham, and
tongue, to say nothing of soused pig's feet."
"Your supper'll be better'n hers if you make plenty of hot biscuit."
"I shall surely do that, and have loaf bread besides. I wonder if you
couldn't wait on the table?"
"Of course I can. That was what I did on board the 'Atlanta.'"
"Then we shall get along famously. Now help me clear off one end of this
table, and I'll begin work."
The little woman at once set about the task of preparing food for the
members of the sewing circle, and nothing was done without first asking
Jack's advice.