"That man on the other side of the street looks like one of the
belligerent doctors," said the Professor, as he and Toney stood on the
pavement in front of the hotel.
"It is Doctor Bull, minus his spectacles, and with the addition of a
very black eye," said Toney.
"His vision seems not to be very clear! There! he has stumbled over a
dog, and is indignantly bestowing on the unlucky cur a couple of kicks,"
said the Professor.
"Bull is very near-sighted," said Toney. "He will get along badly
without the aid of his spectacles."
"I wonder how he got out of jail?" said the Professor.
"Colonel Hazlewood bailed him out," said the landlord. "The colonel
needs his services in attendance on his niece, Miss Carrington, who is
still in a critical condition."
"Did the colonel also bail out the other physician?" asked the
Professor.
"No, indeed!" said the landlord. "The colonel said he was afraid to let
the other fellow out while the young lady was ill. The two doctors might
get to fighting again, and their patient might die while they were
settling their difficulties."
"I perceive that the colonel is an apt scholar in the school of
experience," said the Professor. "It is not advisable to allow more than
one doctor to run at large at a time in a small town like this."
"I am glad that Bull is out," said the landlord.
"Why so?" asked Toney.
"He has a patient in my house. The gentleman is quite sick. He is in the
room next to the one occupied by you, Mr. Belton. I hope you have not
been disturbed."
"Not at all," said Toney. "He has been very quiet. I was not aware that
there was a sick person in the apartment. Come, Charley, let us walk to
the post-office."
A letter was handed to Toney at the post-office, which he read, and then
exclaimed,--
"Well, Charley, my holiday is over. I must go back to Mapleton by the
next train."
"Indeed!" said the Professor. "What urgent business renders your
presence necessary in Mapleton?"
"The great case of Simon Rump _vs._ the Salt-Water Canal Company is to
be argued next week. I am counsel for the company, and my distinguished
friend M. T. Pate is Rump's attorney. It is a claim for damages. The
company are about to construct a portion of their canal through Rump's
real estate, and a jury are to assemble on the ground and assess the
damages which should be paid to Simon Rump."
"Who is Simon Rump?"
"You have heard Tom Seddon and myself speak of Simon Dobbs?"
"The unfortunate individual who was baffled by the Mystic Order of
Sweethearts in his efforts to obtain an angel and seven sweet little
cherubs?"
"The same," said Toney. "Well, Simon Dobbs is now Simon Rump."
"Simon Dobbs is now Simon Rump? I don't comprehend."
"It is so. Simon Dobbs is now Simon Rump, and in his domicile dwell an
angel and seven sweet little cherubs."
"I am glad that the poor fellow has at last obtained the companionship
of angelic beings after so much tribulation. But how did it happen that
his name was changed? Had the angel changed her name, when she came to
dwell with Dobbs, it would have been more in accordance with established
usage."
"The angel would not consent to change her name. I might as well tell
the story at once, for I see that your curiosity is aroused."
"Indeed it is," said the Professor. "I am as curious as a maiden lady
who has accompanied this terrestrial orb in fifty annual revolutions
around the center of the solar system. How did Dobbs become Rump?"
"After the poor fellow met with so serious a mishap, when he wanted to
purchase a wife and a couple of children, he lived in melancholy
seclusion during several years. He has a fine farm in the neighborhood
of Mapleton. On the east side of his farm, and nearer to the town, is
the estate of the Widow Wild, and on the west was the land of Farmer
Rump who was also named Simon. Rump had fine possessions, and a buxom
wife, and seven children, and was prosperous and contented. But he was
taken sick, and a doctor being sent for, in about a week Simon Dobbs
followed the hearse of his friend and neighbor Simon Rump to the
cemetery. The widow wept and the seven children were in deep affliction.
Dobbs had a soft heart, and went frequently to the house to console the
widow and orphans. The widow was buxom and blooming and the children
were chubby. An idea entered the head of Dobbs. Here were an angel and
seven sweet little cherubs. Could he not persuade them to come and dwell
in his domicile? In the solitude of his home he again had visions of
future felicity. In due time he presented the question of annexation for
the consideration of the widow. It was decided in the negative. She said
that she had been the wife of Simon Rump, and when she planted a rose on
the grave of that good man she had solemnly vowed that she would never
be the wife of anybody but Simon Rump. Dobbs went home and had a fit of
the blues. He thought of his first love and of his subsequent
misfortunes. He thought of Susan and the Seven Sweethearts. He thought
of the dreadful beating he had received when he wanted to buy a wife and
a couple of children. He thought of the refusal of the Widow Rump, and
he was in despair. His home would never be the abode of an angel and
seven sweet little cherubs."
"Poor fellow!" said the Professor. "His was, indeed, a sad fate! Excuse
me, Toney, if I apply my handkerchief. A tear will ooze from the corner
of my eye."
"There is no need for your handkerchief. Dobbs's prospects now began to
brighten. Fortune smiled on him at last."
"The cruel jade!" said the Professor. "She sometimes becomes ashamed of
her barbarity and makes amends. I trust it was so in the case of poor
Dobbs."
"It was," said Toney. "A few days after the rejection of his suit by the
widow, a splendid opportunity, which presented itself, for an amazing
display of his gallantry, enabled him to win her heart. On a bright
morning in July there was an unusually large congregation assembled in
groups in front of the village church, which stands in a grove of fine
old trees, affording a delightful shade. While the people were thus
awaiting the arrival of their pastor, the widow rode up, accompanied by
her eldest son, a boy of twelve years of age. The lad dismounted and led
the widow's steed to a big chestnut stump, then used as a horseblock.
She attempted to dismount, but just at that moment the horse suddenly
started to one side, and she was caught on the pommel, and there hung
suspended, like Mohammed's coffin, between heaven and earth. The gawky
boy exclaimed, 'Great golly!' and stood holding the horse. The ladies
shrieked and put down their veils, and the gentlemen, instead of going
to the rescue, turned away as if seized with a sudden panic. In this
emergency the remarkable presence of mind of Simon Dobbs was wonderfully
demonstrated. Hearing the cries of the distressed lady, he coolly put
his hand in his pocket and drew forth a large knife, which he was
accustomed to use in his orchard for pruning purposes; then turning his
back and opening the blade, he advanced backward until his shoulders
almost touched her as she hung in a state of awful suspense; when with a
skillful movement of the knife he cut off the end of the dress which
clung to the pommel, and the lady fell unharmed to the ground. A shout
of applause rewarded this noble achievement; and from that day the heart
of the buxom widow was the property of Simon Dobbs."
"So it should have been," said the Professor. "In books of chivalry and
romance a valorous knight, who rescues a fair one in distress, is always
rewarded by the possession of that important organ."
"The pastor did not come," said Toney. "The reverend gentleman was sick;
but the congregation found an efficient substitute in M. T. Pate, who
mounted the pulpit and read the usual prayers, and then selected the
ninth chapter of Genesis. When in his loud and solemn tones Pate read
the twenty-third verse, every eye in the congregation was directed first
towards the widow and then towards Simon Dobbs. The widow went home and
read the chapter over and was deeply impressed. She was convinced that
Simon Dobbs was a good man, and could be compared to the favorite sons
of the patriarch. She knew that he would make a devoted husband. When
Dobbs called on the following day to inquire after her health, she
blushed until her face was as ruddy as the morning, and Dobbs saw in her
blushes the beams of an Aurora which was the harbinger of his
happiness."
"Too poetical, Toney," said the Professor. "But proceed. What did Dobbs
do?"
"He drew his chair close up to the widow; and this time as he approached
her he did not turn his back."
"Well, what did he do?"
"He took hold of her hand."
"Well."
"He squeezed it."
"Good!"
"He advanced his mouth in close proximity to her lips."
"Excellent!"
"He kissed her."
"And then?"
"One of the little cherubs ran into the room, and bawling out, 'You stop
biting my mamma!' struck Dobbs with a stick."
"Horrible!"
"Dobbs saw a servant-maid's grinning face at the door. He snatched up
his hat and rushed from the house. The widow seized the little cherub,
and laid him over her lap and spanked him."
"What became of Dobbs?"
"He returned next evening. The cherubs were all put to bed. He again
presented the question of annexation for the consideration of the widow.
This time it was debated on both sides. The widow told him that she had
solemnly vowed never to be the wife of anybody but Simon Rump. She could
not break her vow. Dobbs then proposed to change his name to Rump. This
proposition was satisfactory. M. T. Pate filed a bill in chancery for
Dobbs, and a decree was passed changing his name to Rump; and Simon
Dobbs is now Simon Rump; and an angel dwells with him, and seven sweet
little cherubs run about his domicile with their bare feet."
"Cherubs are always barefooted," said the Professor. "They are painted
so on canvas. It couldn't be otherwise."
"Why not?" said Toney.
"Because no shoemaker ever entered the kingdom of heaven."
"I cannot see why the disciples of St. Crispin should be excluded," said
Toney.
"They never tell the truth, and liars--you know the text. Did you ever
see the picture of an angel with a pair of shoes on his feet?"
"Never!"
"They have no shoemakers among them," said the Professor.
They had now reached the hotel, and, after Toney had directed Hannibal
and Caesar to come for his trunks, were approaching his room, when they
heard a loud noise, and Tom Seddon's voice furiously shouting "Villain!"
This was followed by the sound of some heavy body falling on the floor.
Toney and the Professor rushed into the room. In the middle of the floor
stood Tom Seddon with his clothes covered with blood. A crimson stream
spouted from his person and sprinkled the floor. In a corner of the room
lay Dr. Bull, having just been knocked down by a blow from Seddon's
fist. On the bed was a basin turned upside down. With the ferocity of a
tiger Tom was about to spring at Bull again when Toney caught him and
held him back.
"Let me at him!" shouted Tom, savagely. "He has had my blood and I want
his!"
"Are you not Jones?" groaned Bull, in the corner.
"Jones! who is Jones? You bloody old villain!" cried Tom.
"Good heavens!" said Bull, "I fear I have made a mistake! I have bled
the wrong man!"
Toney roared with laughter, and the Professor fell on the bed and
emitted violent explosions of mirth.
Bull, who had been deprived of his spectacles in his desperate encounter
with Bear, was nearly blind, and going into the wrong room had
approached the bed. Tom was snoring. Bull felt his pulse. "Symptoms of
apoplexy!" exclaimed Bull. "A decided change for the worse! He must be
immediately depleted or the attack may be fatal!" Bull got a basin,
rolled up Tom's sleeve, took out a lancet and sprung it. The blood
spirted, and Tom jumped up and knocked Bull down.
All this was explained after Tom's arm had been bound up by the
Professor; Bull being too much disabled by the blow and his fall to
render any assistance.
"The doctor has amply apologized," said Toney.
"By Jove! does such an outrage admit of an apology?" said Tom, looking
at Bull with savage ferocity.
"My dear sir, it was a mistake! I thought it was Jones!" said the
doctor, making for the door.
"Good-by, doctor!" said Toney. "You have let the bad blood out of him,
and he will soon be in a better disposition."
Bull hastily departed with both eyes in a damaged condition.
"He has had my blood and I would like to have his," said Tom.
"Mr. Seddon, you should cultivate a more benign disposition," said the
Professor. "Bull practiced phlebotomy on you with the best intentions."
"And now, Tom, I must leave you," said Toney, as Caesar and Hannibal
entered the room to carry his trunks to the railway.
"Are you going?" said Tom.
"Must go," said Toney. "I have to prepare for the great case of Simon
Rump vs. The Salt-Water Canal Company. I leave Charley with you, who
will attend to your wound, and when it has healed you and he come to
Mapleton and hear the argument of my distinguished adversary M. T.
Pate."
Both promised to do so; and shaking hands with his two friends, Toney
went out and closed the door, but immediately opened it again and
said,--
"Tom, when you take another siesta, remember to bolt the door and keep
Bull out. Good-by!"