IN A TRAP.
A kind word, a look, a smile, a warm grasp of the hand by a friend in
time of trouble,--how they remain in memory! Sometimes they are like
ropes thrown to drowning men. The meeting between Paul and Azalia upon
the bridge was a turning point in his life. He felt, when he saw her
approaching, that, if she passed him by, looking upon him as a vile
outcast from society, he might as well give up a contest where
everything was against him. He loved truth and honor for their own sake.
He remembered the words of his grandfather, that truth and honor are
better than anything else in the world. Many a night he had heard the
winds repeating those words as they whistled through the cracks and
crevices of his chamber, rattling the shingles upon the roof, saying
over and over and over again, Truth and honor, truth and honor. He had
tried to be true, honest, and manly, not only to make himself better,
but to help everybody else who had a hard time in life; but if Rev. Mr.
Surplice, Judge Adams, Colonel Dare, and all the good folks looked upon
him as a thief, what was the use of trying to rise? There was one who
was still his friend. Her sweet, sad smile followed him. He saw it all
the time, by day and by night, while awake and while asleep. He felt the
warm, soft touch of her hand, and heard her words. He remembered that
God is always on the side of truth, and so he resolved to go right on as
if nothing had happened, and live down the accusation.
But he couldn't go on. "After what has happened, it is expedient that
you should leave the choir till your innocence is established," said
Deacon Hardhack, who was chairman of the singing committee,--a good,
well-meaning man, who was very zealous for maintaining what he
considered to be the faith once delivered to the saints. He carried on
an iron foundery, and people sometimes called him a cast-iron man. He
believed, that it was the duty of everybody to do exactly right; if they
did wrong, or if they were suspected of doing wrong, they must take the
consequences. Miss Dobb told him that Paul ought to be pitched out of
the choir. "I think so too, Miss Dobb," said the Deacon, and it was
done.
It required a great bracing of Paul's nerves, on Sunday morning, to go
to church, and take a seat in the pew down stairs, with every eye upon
him; but he did it manfully.
The bell ceased tolling. It was time for services to commence, but there
was no choir. The singers' seats were empty. Azalia, Daphne, Hans, and
all the others, were down stairs. Mr. Surplice waited awhile, then read
the hymn; but there was a dead silence,--no turning of leaves, no
blending of sweet voices, no soul-thrilling strains, such as had
reformed Farmer Harrow, and given rest to his horses one day in seven.
People looked at the singers' seats, then at Paul, then at each other.
The silence became awkward. Deacon Hardhack was much exercised in mind.
He had been very zealous in committee meeting for having Paul sent down
stairs, but he had not looked forward to see what effect it would have
upon the choir. Mr. Cannel, who owned a coal-mine, sat in front of Paul.
He was not on good terms with Deacon Hardhack, for they once had a
falling out on business matters, and so whatever the Deacon attempted
to do in society affairs was opposed by Mr. Cannel. They were both
members of the singing committee, and had a stormy time on Saturday
evening. Mr. Cannel did what he could to keep Paul in the choir, but the
Deacon had carried the day.
"I'll triumph yet," was the thought which flashed through Mr. Cannel's
mind, when he saw how matters stood. He turned and nodded to Paul to
strike up a tune, but Paul took no notice of him. Mr. Cannel half rose
from his seat, and whispered hoarsely, "Strike up a tune, Paul." All the
congregation saw him. Paul made no movement, but sat perfectly still,
not even looking towards Mr. Cannel. Deacon Hardhack saw what Mr. Cannel
was up to, and resolved to head him off. He rose from his seat, and said
aloud, "Brother Quaver, will you pitch a tune?"
Again, as in other days, Mr. Quaver rubbed his great red nose, as
trumpeters wipe their instruments before giving a blast. Then, after a
loud Ahem! which made the church ring, he began to sing. It was so
strange a sound, so queer, so unlike the sweet music which had charmed
the congregation through the summer, that there was smiling all over
the church. His voice trembled and rattled, and sounded so funny that a
little boy laughed aloud, which disconcerted him, and he came near
breaking down. Miss Gamut sat in one corner of the church, many pews
from Mr. Quaver. She attempted to join, but was so far away that she
felt, as she afterwards remarked, like a cat in a strange garret. Paul
did not sing. He thought that, if it was an offence for him to sing in
the choir, it would be equally offensive to sing in the congregation.
Azalia, Daphne, Hans, and all the members of the choir, who were sitting
in the pews with their parents, were silent. They had talked the matter
over before church.
"Paul is innocent; he has only been accused. It isn't right to condemn
him, or turn from him, till we know he is not worthy of our confidence.
I met him on the bridge last night, and he looked as if he hadn't a
friend in the world. I shall stand by him," said Azalia.
"Deacon Hardhack and Miss Dobb mean to break down the choir. It is a
conspiracy," said Hans, who felt that Paul's case was his own.
Daphne began to look at the matter in a new light, and felt ashamed of
herself for having passed by Paul without noticing him.
After service there was a great deal of loud talking.
"If that is the kind of singing you are going to have, I'll stay at
home," said Farmer Harrow.
"It would be a desecration of the sanctuary, and we should be the aiders
and abettors of sin and iniquity, if we allowed a fellow who has been
accused of stealing to lead the singing," said Deacon Hardhack to Mr.
Cannel.
"Let him that is without sin among you cast the first stone," was Mr.
Cannel's reply, and he felt that he had given the Deacon a good hit.
"Paul hasn't had his deserts by a long chalk," said Miss Dobb.
"He has been treated shamefully," said Azalia, indignantly.
All took sides, some for Paul, and some against him. Old things, which
had no connection with the matter, were raked up. Mr. Cannel twitted
Deacon Hardback of cheating him, while on the other hand the Deacon
accused Mr. Cannel of giving false weight in selling coal. The peace
and harmony of the church and society were disturbed.
Mr. Quaver felt very sore over that laugh which the little boy had
started. He knew his voice was cracked, and that his singing days were
over. "I am not going to make a fool of myself, to be laughed at," he
said, and made up his mind that he wouldn't sing another note to please
the Deacon or anybody else.
In the afternoon Mr. Quaver's seat was empty. Mr. Surplice read a hymn
and waited for some one to begin. Mr. Cannel once more nodded to Paul,
but Paul took no notice of it, and so there was no singing. A very dull
service it was. After the benediction, Mr. Cannel, Colonel Dare, and
Judge Adams said to Paul, "We hope you will lead the singing next
Sunday."
"Gentlemen, I have been requested by the chairman of the committee to
leave the choir. When he invites me to return I will take the matter
into consideration; till then I shall take no part in the singing,"--he
replied, calmly and decidedly.
Through the week Paul went on with his business, working and studying,
bringing all his will and energy into action; for he resolved that he
would not let what had taken place break him down.
Mr. Noggin believed him guilty. "He will steal your grapes, Mr.
Leatherby, if you don't look out," he said to the shoemaker, who had a
luxuriant vine in his garden, which was so full of ripe clusters that
people's mouths watered when they saw them purpling in the October sun.
Mr. Leatherby concluded to keep his eyes open,--also to set a trap. He
waited till evening, that no one might see what he was about. His garden
was a warm, sunny spot, upon a hillside. A large butternut-tree, with
wide-spreading branches, gave support to the vine. Mr. Leatherby filled
a hogshead with stones, headed it up, rolled it to the spot, and tilted
it so nicely that a slight jar would send it rolling down the hill. Then
fastening one end of a rope to the hogshead, he threw the other end over
a branch of the tree, brought it down to the ground, and made a noose.
Then, taking a board, he put one end upon the hogshead and rested the
other end on the ground, where he had placed the noose. He expected that
whoever came after the grapes would walk up the board to reach the great
clusters which hung overhead, that the hogshead would begin to roll,
the board would drop, the noose draw, and the thief would find himself
dangling by the heels. It was admirably contrived. About midnight Mr.
Leatherby heard the board drop. "I've got him!" he shouted, springing
out of bed, alarming Mrs. Leatherby, who thought he was crazy. He had
not told her of the trap.
"Got whom? Got what?" she exclaimed, wondering what he meant.
"Paul Parker, who has come to steal the grapes," he said, as he put on
his clothes.
He went out, and found that it was not Paul, but Bob Swift, who was
dangling, head downwards. The noose had caught him by one leg. A very
laughable appearance he made, as he kicked and swung his arms, and
swayed to and fro, vainly struggling to get away.
"So you are the thief, are you? How do you like being hung up by the
heels? Are the grapes sweet or sour?" Mr. Leatherby asked, not offering
to relieve him.
"Please let me go, sir. I won't do so again," said Bob, whining.
"It won't hurt you to hang awhile, I reckon," Mr. Leatherby replied,
going into the house and telling Mrs. Leatherby what had happened, then
calling up Mr. Shelbarke, who lived near by, and also Mr. Noggin.
"I reckon that this isn't your first trick, Bob," said Mr. Leatherby,
when he returned with his neighbors. He liked Paul, and had been loath
to believe that he was guilty of stealing. "It is you who have been
playing tricks all along. Come now, own up," he added.
"It ain't me, it is Philip,--he told me to come," said Bob, who was
thoroughly cowed by the appearance of Mr. Noggin and the others, and who
feared that he would be harshly dealt with.
"O ho! Philip Funk is at the bottom, is he?" Mr. Leatherby exclaimed,
remembering how Philip suggested that it was Paul who had stuffed his
chimney with old paper.
"If you will let me down, I will tell you all," said Bob, groaning with
pain from the cord cutting into his ankle.
"We will hear your confession before we let you down," said Mr.
Leatherby.
Bob begged, and whined, but to no purpose, till he told them all about
the Night-Hawks,--that Philip set them on, and that Paul did not take
Mr. Noggin's honey, nor smoke out Mr. Leatherby. It was Philip who
sheared Miss Dobb's puppy, who took Mr. Shelbarke's watermelons, and
robbed Deacon Hardhack's hen-roost. When Bob had told all, they let him
go. He went off limping, but very glad that he was free.
In the morning Mr. Leatherby and Mr. Noggin reported what had happened;
but Philip put on a bold face, and said that Bob was a liar, and that
there wasn't a word of truth in what he had said. The fact that he was
caught stealing Mr. Leatherby's grapes showed that he was a fellow not
to be believed; for if he was mean enough to steal, he would not
hesitate to lie.
Deacon Hardhack called upon Paul. "I have been requested by the
committee to call and see you. They wish you to take charge of the
singing again," he said, with some confusion of manner; and added,
"Perhaps we were hasty in the matter when we asked you to sit down
stairs, but we are willing to let bygones be bygones."
"Am I to understand that there is no suspicion against me?" Paul asked.
"Yes--sir--I suppose so," said the Deacon, slowly and hesitatingly.
"Then you may say to the committee that I will do what I can to make the
singing acceptable as a part of the service," Paul replied.
There was a hearty shaking of hands with Paul, by all the choir, at the
rehearsal on Saturday night. They were glad to meet him once more, and
when they looked upon his frank, open countenance, those who for a
moment had distrusted him felt that they had done him a great wrong. And
on Sunday morning how sweet the music! It thrilled the hearts of the
people, and they too were ashamed when they reflected that they had
condemned Paul without cause. They were glad he was in his place once
more. Mr. Surplice in his prayer gave thanks that the peace and harmony
of the congregation was restored, and that the wicked one had not been
permitted to rule. When he said that, Mr. Cannel wondered if he had
reference to Deacon Hardhack. Everybody rejoiced that the matter was
settled,--even Miss Dobb, who did not care to have all the old things
brought up.
When the service was over, when Paul sat once more by his mother's side
in their humble home, before the old fireplace, when he listened to her
words, reminding him of all God's goodness,--how He had carried him
through the trial,--Paul could not keep back his tears, and he resolved
that he would always put his trust in God.