THE CUPOLA.
Aunt Stanshy was reading one day the list of prohibitions posted up
against the post in the barn chamber.
"Charlie," she said "I like what is said here, that no cross words and no
bad words must be spoken here; but what does it mean when it says _no one_
but the 'treasury' must climb the ladder and go up into the cupola? Does
that apply to honorary members? and did you think that I might want to go
there?"
Charlie's mouth opened into a crack from ear to ear. "Why--why, the money
is up in the cupola!"
"The money is up there in the cupola? Yes, I knew that; you told me that
before. What holds your money?"
"A tin dipper."
"Well, now, if you don't look out, somebody will steal your money. You may
be assured that honorary members won't trouble it."
"Ho!" shouted Charlie. "There goes a man and a hand organ and a monkey."
The dignity of the club was not sufficient to restrain Charlie and several
others from an almost headlong rush for the out-door attraction, and they
quickly surrounded the organ-grinder. He owned a remarkable monkey, the
boys thought, especially when he mounted by a spout to the window of Aunt
Stanshy's chamber, and, entering it, soon re-appeared shaking in his hand
Aunt Stanshy's spectacles!
"Put 'em on!" cried Sid.
"He can, he can!" said his master. "Me taught him."
The next moment the spectacles appeared on the monkey's nose!
"He look like _her_," said the organ-grinder.
But the monkey did not have time to continue his resemblance to the fair
owner any longer, for the shadow of a broom fell over him, and if he had
not made a very nimble spring for the spout, something besides a shadow
would have fallen upon him, even the broom itself. This was now seen at
the window, and Aunt Stanshy behind it. It was Tony who gallantly ran
forward and rescued Aunt Stanshy's spectacles as their wearer was about
quitting the spout for the ground.
"We think that monkey is very smart, Aunt Stanshy," said Sid.
"I expect you will make him an honorary member the next thing."
"He's bright enough," said Sid.
"I wonder how bright one must be to be an honorary member if--if--a
monkey is the standard?" thought Aunt Stanshy.
This visit from the monkey was not the only unusual thing happening that
day. The club heard with sorrow of the unexpected and total loss of their
money! Charlie, as "treasury," had gone up the ladder, but returning, he
reported that the dipper, the safe of the club, was missing.
"How much money was in it?" inquired Aunt Stanshy.
"Ten cents."
"I said you might lose your money."
This was entirely true, but it was poor consolation. Indeed, it was quite
aggravating.
"Did you have any mark on the dipper?"
"Yes; a shield on the bottom, though--though--'twas not a very good one."
No, to that day it remained uncertain what the device really was, and its
character had been hotly discussed in the club.
Charlie had discovered the theft on his return from school at noon.
Swallowing a potato and a few mouthfuls of steak, he then rushed from the
house to report the loss to the club. In a short time all the white
shields had heard the news, and quickly gathered.
"Well, boys, what is to be done?" asked the president.
Nobody knew.
"Let's climb the ladder and all take a look," suggested the secretary.
Exceedingly nimble were the legs that went wriggling up the ladder, and
very curious eyes were directed toward the depths of the "cupelo," but the
only result was a succession of "My!" and "That's so!" and "Too bad!"
"I've got it!" shouted Sid.
"He'th found it," said Pip.
Every sad face brightened.
"No, I haven't, Pip!" exclaimed Sid.
"But you thaid tho."
"No, I meant that I knew what had become of it."
"O! O!" said Pip. "But what hath become of it?"
Sid here looked about him, to make sure that no one outside of the club
was listening.
"Well, boys, I think Tim Tyler took it"
"What makes-you think so?" inquired the governor.
"It has just come to me that I saw Tim Tyler go down the lane after
school, and a tin dipper stuck out of his pocket."
"You did?" asked several.
All eyes opened wide in wonder and indignation.
"With my eyes I saw him. That's where the dipper has gone."
It did not occur to the club that there were more dippers than one in the
world, and then they did not care to think of it. They had not forgotten
the Fourth, and they wanted to believe something bad of Tim.
Another point for discussion came up at once, and Charlie suggested it.
"How shall we get the dipper away from Tim?" he asked.
"I move the president go," said Wort.
"I thecond the mothion," cried Pip.
"Aint you good," was Sid's scornful notice of the intended honor.
"Presidents don't do that, but the police of the club. I preside."
"The sentinel is the police, and that is Juggie, but he is not here now;
he went home a moment ago. Then, of course, his assistant must do it;" and
he here turned toward Pip.
"Yes, Pip," said boy after boy.
Poor, trembling Pip! Didn't he wish he had been born in the previous
century! No amount of coaxing could prevail upon, him to approach the
dreadful dragon that had carried off the tin dipper, and every body else
declined the same honor.
Finally Wort made this offer:
"I'll go down to-Old Tim's boat, and Tim may be hanging round, and I'll
see what I can see."
This was a relief to the club, and entirely safe for Wort.
"I'll go at once," he said, and away he went.
Charlie went up to a store on "Water Street at the same time, and chanced
to meet Miss Bertha Barry.
"We've met with a loss," said Charlie, with a sober face.
"Any one dead?"
"O no; but the club has lost its tin dipper."
"Tin dipper?"
"Yes, teacher, where we kept our money."
"O!"
"All our money has gone."
"How much!"
"Ten cents."
"Hem, hem; sorry."
"We think we know who did it."
"You know certainly."
"No, but we think we do, and the feller is just bad enough to do it."
"It's pretty hard to have people think you are bad; and then, if you are
thought to have done something you were never guilty of, that is worse
still. I don't think it fair to charge a wrong thing on any body unless we
know pretty certainly. It is not just."
Charlie had not thought of it _that_ way before.
"I guess you are right, teacher."
Bidding her good-bye, he was moving off, when she said: "Stop one moment.
Whoever that boy is, I wish you'd get him out to Sunday-school."
"What an idea!" thought Charlie. "Tim Tyler's going to Sunday-school!"
In the meantime Wort had been prosecuting his bold investigations. He
strolled down the lane, passing several cottages, and then a fish-house,
where several men were splitting and salting fish. All these were on the
left side of the lane. On the right was a long dock, and in it were
several boats.
"There is Tim Tyler," exclaimed Wort, "and there is his boat. There is
young Tim, the thief!"
It was an old boat that Wort looked into as he stood upon the stairs
leading down into the dock. It was a boat badly battered, like its owner.
"If the red paint could be got off Tim's nose and put on his boat, it
would be better for both," thought Wort.
Old Tim was fixing a net in the stem of his boat. Young Tim was in another
part of the dock, hunting amid the muddy flats for relics.
"There she is!" said Wort to himself. He had detected a dipper in the
bottom of the boat. "Now is my chance," thought Wort. He reached down to
the coveted dipper. It was a venerable piece of tinware.
"That's too old to be ours," reflected the daring Wort. "Let me turn it
over and see if there is a mark on the bottom. Bah, an old worm! That is
not our dipper."
"Here, you thief! what are you meddlin' with that property for?" roared a
voice.
It was Old Tim. His face was red as a boiled lobster, and as he crooked
his bare arms and rested them on his hips, they looked like the claws of a
mammoth lobster ready to crawl out and seize any offender.
"Guess I'll go," thought Wort, and off he hurried to tell the club his
ill-success, and that their detective in search of a thief had been called
one.
A few minutes later Juggie exclaimed to the disconsolate circle, "Dar's de
organ-grinder."
It was indeed he hurrying along the lane and turning a troubled face
toward the barn, for no monkey came with him. Had he lost his friend from
the far South?
"He gone!" said the grinder, as he reached the boys. "You sheen him?"
"Seen your monkey?" asked Sid.
"Yes, yes! You sheen my leetle mun-kee?"
"Why, no."
"You--you--you," and the grinder swept the circle to find out if any one
had seen the lost favorite. No one had seen him.
"O, O dear!" lamented the grinder excitedly.
Poor organ-grinder! his face was wrinkled as badly as that of his missing
assistant when attempting to pick a very bad nut.
"You go--find--my--mun-kee?"
"O, yes," said the president, "we will hunt. Come on."
They scattered, tumbling over fences, climbing shed roofs, diving into
corners, shouting, yelling, and stirring up the neighborhood thoroughly.
It did no good. "My munkee" refused to be found.
The boys went to school and returned, meeting in the barn chamber once
more.
"There's some business to be done, Mr. President," said the "securtary,"
in a very formal way. But where was the president? He was no more to be
found than the monkey. A little later, Wort Wentworth was looking out of
the window.
"Here comes Sid," he shouted.
Sid was running through the yard, when, seeing the boys at the window, he
stopped, and shouted excitedly:
"O, fellers, I have made a discovery! It's all out now. Come!"
What was out he did not say, but turned and speedily was out himself in
the lane.
"Come on, boys," called the governor, and down the stairs they went,
rushing, shoving, tumbling, just in time to see the last of Sid's legs
disappearing round the corner of the house. They hurried after him, down
the lane, then up a little passage-way between two buildings on the left.
Then they turned aside to the rear of a barn, and there the panting,
confused group halted.
"There!" said Sid, solemnly, pointing as he spoke. "The mystery is over.
Poor feller!"
Dangling from the roof by a cord that was twisted round his neck, swung
the dead monkey! In the grasp of his rigid paw was the missing dipper.
"I see the shield!" sang out Wort. Yes, there was the mark identifying the
stolen property. Poor little child of the tropics, swinging in his leafy,
native haunts from bough to bough, gripping the branches with paw and
tail, he little anticipated that his last swing would be by the neck, like
that of a murderer from the black, unsightly gallows! He had strayed away,
carrying with him the cord binding him to his master's wrist. In his
peregrinations over various roofs, he had examined the cupola, and
reaching a paw through an opening where a slat chanced to have been
removed, he had abstracted the property of the club. Whatever money was in
the dipper had been spilled hopelessly as marbles in the sea. Attempting
to come down by a spout from the last barn-roof visited, he was entangled
in the cord that had caught about a nail in the roof. Finally, the cord
was twisted about his neck and twisted the life out of him. The thief was
holding out the dipper as if asking for more, and showing that the ruling
passion was strong in death. There were many sighs from the
tender-hearted, sympathetic boys. All were ready to pity and forgive, but
pity and forgiveness could not bring the little creature back to life.
"Let's bury him!" said a tearful voice. It was Tony, who said little
generally, but he was now moved to speak in his secret sympathy for this
wandering child of the sun. The organ-grinder was notified, and then a
grave was dug for his dead property under the leafiest apple-tree. Charlie
furnished a box, and Wort brought fresh straw from his stable. The box
with its occupant was laid in the grave, and the pitiful face of the
monkey was then covered up forever.