CAMP MEETING.
When the train drew up at the station, Jack was relieved at seeing his
tormentors take their places in a car far ahead of the one he and Aunt
Nancy occupied.
He anticipated no slight amount of enjoyment from this ride behind the
iron horse, and it would be sadly marred if he was forced to listen to
such remarks as Bill Dean and his friends would probably make.
Aunt Nancy sat by the window with Louis in her arms, and Jack took the
seat beside her, watching everything around with the most intense
interest, for it was the first time he had ever journeyed so far on the
cars.
The little woman would have spent considerable of the money received
from the sale of the wheat in buying for her crippled escort such
articles as the newsboy brought, in the hope of tempting customers; but
for the fact that Jack prevented her by whispering more than once,--
"You've paid enough for me already in buyin' the railroad ticket, an'
you must save some to get things for the summer boarders."
"Bless you, child, I ought to be able to take a little pleasure now and
then without thinking constantly of how many pennies there are in a
dollar."
"But this time, Aunt Nancy, you are not using it for yourself. If you
want any of the stuff, why, it's only right you should have it, but
don't buy anything for me."
Then the little woman whispered as she laid her hand affectionately on
his shoulder,--
"It's a comfort to have you around, Jack dear, for you are always
thinking of others and never of yourself."
"A crooked feller like me don't need as much as other folks, an' I'm
sure I get more'n I deserve."
"That could never be, my child," Aunt Nancy replied; and Jack fancied
she wiped a tear from her eye, but it might have been nothing more than
a cinder.
Judging from Louis's expressions of delight, he would have been pleased
had the journey continued all day, and even Jack was a trifle
disappointed because the tenting grounds were reached so soon.
The place at which they disembarked was not a village, but only a grove
of pine-trees bordering the ocean, with a broad strip of shimmering
white sand between the foliage and the water.
It was a little settlement of canvas houses among the pines, the
gleaming white showing vividly amid the sober green, and the dusty paths
here and there resembling yellow ribbons laid on to complete the harmony
of color.
Jack would have remained a long while silent and motionless gazing in
delight at the scene before him, now and then raising his eyes to view
the heaving emerald bosom of the sea beyond, but that Aunt Nancy was
impatient to "settle down" before the morning services should begin.
"It looks pretty, I know, Jack dear, but we mustn't stand dawdling here,
because there is considerable work for us to do. I'll carry the baby,
and you see what can be done with the bundles."
The two were literally laden to the utmost of their strength, as they
stepped from the railway platform.
Such generous supplies had the little woman brought for their bodily
comfort that quite an amount of the belongings would have been left
behind but for Deacon Downs, who kindly offered to take charge of the
remainder of the goods.
In order to find Mr. Chick's tent it was only necessary to follow the
party with whom they had travelled, and in a few moments the little
woman was arranging her provisions in one corner of the huge tent which
had been reserved for her use.
Jack hovered around helplessly.
He wanted to do something toward aiding Aunt Nancy, but camp life was so
new to him he could do nothing more than watch her bird-like movements.
After pinning a towel around Louis's neck to avoid the possibility of
soiling his white frock, the little woman gave him a small slice of
bread and butter, offering some to Jack, but the latter was not hungry.
"If you don't care, I'd rather go down to the beach a little while."
"You shall do that later, Jack dear, but the morning services will
commence very soon, and I want you with me then."
"Will it be a reg'lar meetin' where people preach an' pray like they do
in a church?"
"Certainly, my child; and this is a church, for don't you remember it is
said 'the groves were God's first temples'?"
Jack didn't remember anything of the kind, for his education had been so
sadly neglected he could not read any but the smallest words, therefore
made no answer, and as soon as Louis had satisfied his hunger the three
went to the cleared space where the services were to be held.
Jack watched everything around him with intense interest, and, it must
also be said, to such a degree that he failed to hear a single word
spoken by the preacher.
Aunt Nancy sat with a look of devotion on her face, which to Jack was
very beautiful.
After a time the boy saw the tears rolling down her cheeks, and listened
to the words from the pulpit in order to learn what had caused such
apparent sorrow.
The clergyman was speaking of those who keep the word, but not the
spirit of God's laws, and he failed to find in the teaching anything
which could distress the little woman.
When the sermon was concluded and the three were walking slowly through
the grove, he understood better.
"It seemed as if the minister was talking directly to me, Jack dear,"
she said with quivering lips.
"I didn't hear him say anything that sounded like it, Aunt Nancy, an' I
listened a good deal of the time."
"It was the passage about obeying the word but not the spirit which
applied to my case. You see I didn't _speak_ a lie to Mr. Pratt, and
might try to comfort myself with the idea I had not disobeyed the
commandment; but the meaning of it is, I shouldn't deceive in the
slightest manner."
"I wish we hadn't come here if you're goin' to think of that thing
again."
"Again, Jack dear? Do you fancy it has ever been out of my mind?"
"I thought you'd kinder got over it."
"But I hadn't, and perhaps I was led to come here that I might realize
even more fully what I have done."
"There isn't any need of that, Aunt Nancy"; and Jack began to look
distressed. "Please put it out of your thoughts for a while, an' we'll
go down on the beach."
"I can't, my child. You shall stroll around an hour, after which you
must come back to the tent for dinner."
Jack hardly thought he ought to leave the little woman while she was
feeling badly, but she insisted on his doing so, and he walked slowly
away saying to himself,--
"I never knew religion hurt anybody; but I think Aunt Nancy has too much
of it if she's goin' to fuss so over Farmer Pratt. It won't do to let
her feel as she does, an' the whole amount of the story is I'll have to
leave Louis here while I take the chances of gettin' into the poorhouse
by explainin' things to him."
So deeply engrossed was he in his thoughts that no attention was paid to
anything around until he was brought to a standstill by hearing a
disagreeably familiar voice cry,--
"Hold on, Hunchie, we want to know where you left the old maid!"
Jack had halted involuntarily, and now would have moved on again in the
hope of escaping from Master Dean and his friends, but they barred his
way by closing in upon him.
There was a large crowd on the grounds surging to and fro, therefore the
three boys had little difficulty in forcing Jack to move in this
direction or that as they chose, by pretending the press was so great
they could not prevent themselves from being pushed against him.
"We're goin' down for a swim," Bill Dean said as he linked his arm in
the hunchback's, "an' it'll just about break our hearts if you can't
come with us."
[Illustration: "We're goin' down for a swim," Bill Dean said, as he
linked his arm in the hunchback's.--Page 210.]
"I don't want to do anything of the kind. You know very well a crooked
feller like me couldn't swim, no matter how hard he tried."
"We'll show you how, so don't be frightened"; and Bill motioned for Sam
and Jip to force the intended victim along in the desired direction.
Jack knew perfectly well he could not struggle successfully against his
tormentors, but at the same time he did not intend allowing them to take
him away from the throng where he might find assistance if necessary.
"I don't want to go with you, and shall ask some of these people to help
me if you don't go away."
"Then you'd only be makin' it all the hotter for yourself, 'cause we
count on stayin' here the whole week, an' you can't be tied to the old
maid's apron strings every minute of the time."
"I'll take my chances of that, so keep off or I'll make a disturbance."
Bill had good reason to believe the cripple would carry this threat into
execution, and, not wishing to come in direct contact with the guardians
of the peace, concluded to bring their sport to a close.
"Of course if you don't feel like comin' nobody's goin' to make you, so
we'll say good by."
As he spoke he gave a quick twist of his foot in front of Jack, at the
same instant Jip pushed from behind, and the result was the cripple fell
forward on his face, in the gravel and sand.
The three boys were off like a flash, and as Jack rose to his feet after
some effort, with dusty clothes and a bleeding face, his heart was
filled with anger.
"If I was only strong enough I'd soon show them fellers what it is to
pick on a fellow they thought couldn't help himself!"
He had hardly said these words when a man brushed past him with the air
of one who feels he has a right to considerably more than half the road,
and looking up quickly Jack saw Farmer Pratt.
For an instant he thought the man was pursuing him, and would have taken
refuge in flight, had not the idea occurred to his mind that Mr. Pratt
had come to camp meeting for the same purpose as Aunt Nancy.
"I'm foolish to think he's still chasin' after me," he said to himself,
"though I s'pose he would take Louis an' me with him if he saw us."
Without knowing why he did it, Jack followed a short distance behind the
farmer, as if it was necessary to retain him constantly in sight, and
while doing so thought of Aunt Nancy's distress concerning the alleged
lie.
Now surely would be a good time to sacrifice his own comfort in order to
ease her mind by taking upon his shoulders the blame, and he ran forward
intending, for an instant, to speak with the gentleman.
Then it occurred to him that it would be proper to consult the little
woman first, and he turned back only to doubt again.
It might distress Aunt Nancy yet more to know the farmer was on the
grounds, and Jack wished he knew of some one who could give him the
proper advice.
Deacon Downs was the only person he could think of, and yet he ought not
to tell him of what Aunt Nancy had done.
"I've got to settle this thing myself," he said as he turned resolutely
in the direction of the tent, "and the next thing to do is to talk with
Aunt Nancy herself. She knows more goodness than all these people put
together."
His mind once made up, he was eager to reach the tent, and ran at full
speed, arriving just as Deacon Downs summoned the occupants of this
particular dwelling to dinner.
The little woman was acting as cook, a post of duty to which she had
been elected each year because the remainder of the party knew she would
perform the arduous labors without complaint.
To speak with her now would be to attract the attention of all, and Jack
believed he should wait until a more convenient season.
Therefore he seated himself at the rough table around which all the
others, save Aunt Nancy, were gathered, and tried unsuccessfully to
appear as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Jack's face told of some trouble, however, and when the deacon had
refreshed himself with a large cup of Aunt Nancy's Mocha, he asked in a
severe tone,--
"Master Dudley, is it possible that after living with as good a woman as
Sister Curtis, you allow your passions to tempt you into fighting? Don't
you remember what Dr. Watts says about letting 'dogs delight to bark and
bite, for 'tis their nature,' et cetera?"
Perhaps Jack might have understood the deacon's question, had it not
been for the last word.
What an "et cetera" was he hadn't the slightest idea, and instead of
replying sat staring stupidly at his plate until Aunt Nancy came forward
and asked,--
"What is it about Jack? Has he been doing anything out of the way?"
"By the appearance of his face I should say he had. It is strange boys
will fight in such a place as this!"
"Why, what _has_ happened to you, Jack dear?" the little woman asked
anxiously as she lifted the boy's head by placing her hand under his
chin.
Jack said nothing, and Aunt Nancy asked, as the crimson spots appeared
on her cheeks,--
"Has William Dean been troubling you again?"
"I had rather tell you some other time," Jack replied in a whisper, as
he slipped down from his seat at the table and went toward the scene of
the little woman's culinary operations.
She followed him at once, and the good but rather inquisitive deacon
craned his neck in vain to hear what passed between the two.
"It was Bill Dean; but don't say anything about it now, for I've just
seen Farmer Pratt," Jack said in a low tone; and as Aunt Nancy started
in surprise, a cry of distress came from Deacon Downs's lips.
At the moment Jack spoke, the little woman was in the act of removing
the coffee pot from the stove, for fear its contents should boil over,
when it fell to the ground.
Neither Aunt Nancy nor the hunchback paid any attention to this
catastrophe; but the deacon was so angry he even threatened that Jack
should not be allowed near the tent again.
It is doubtful if his words were heard by the two who were in such
distress of mind.
Aunt Nancy led Jack to the rear of the tent, and there, where no one
could overhear, he told the whole story, concluding by saying,--
"You have felt so bad I had a great mind to go right up an' tell him how
it happened you acted a lie."
"But, Jack dear, then he might drag you off to the poor farm."
"I had rather do that than have you feel as you do about it. Louis could
stay here, an' I wouldn't tell him where you were, no matter how hard he
might try to make me."
"I should go to him myself and confess all," the little woman said after
a pause.
"Then the chances are he'd get hold of both Louis an' me. If it is to be
done, I oughter do it."
"I declare I don't know what is best"; and Aunt Nancy stood with clasped
hands as if expecting Jack would advise. "It is only right I should
atone in some way for that which I did; but the flesh is indeed weak
when it comes to parting with either of you."
"Perhaps there might be some way for me to get clear, an' you'd feel so
much better that I'd be contented to stay almost anywhere."
The little woman made no reply; she remained silent so long Jack began
to be afraid she was ill, and as he stood watching her, the notes of a
song of praise to the Maker rose high above the deacon's querulous
tones, while mingling with it was the murmur of the surf as it rolled up
on the beach, the whole forming a sort of melody which was soothing to
the little hunchback.