THE MISSING OPALS AGAIN
Following out the injunctions of Miss Muster, Fred easily found where
the step-ladder was kept in the basement. Nor did he have the slightest
difficulty in carrying it up the stairs after he had discovered it.
He noticed that the lady was very particular to keep the door of the
living room closed; and remembered that it had been in that condition
at the time of their first arrival.
"The artful rogue," Miss Muster explained; "would be only too glad to
fly out, and scour the entire house, laughing at me, and mocking me as
though possessed of the spirit of evil our great poet Edgar Allan Poe
gave to the raven. But now that you have succeeded in getting the
ladder, we shall soon corner him."
Fred was highly amused at the comical way the old raven watched the
preparations being made, looking to his capture. He would cock his head
on one side, as he looked down, and occasionally utter some droll word
that seemed to fit the occasion exactly.
Having had considerable experience in chasing the mutinous bird all
over the big room, Miss Muster seemed to know just how to manage things
in order to get results with as little waste of time as possible.
"Fred, you take the ladder, and place it under this picture," she went
on to say; "he always comes back there after each little flight. Then,
with the broom I will shoo him off that curtain pole. He does get so
excited, and goes on at such a terrible rate. Why, I sometimes seem to
suspect that some of those strange words he uses may be what that
Portuguese sailor, from whom I purchased him while over in England,
taught him."
And indeed, once she started the bird flying wildly about, Black Joe
did shriek out all manner of phrases, some of which Fred could
understand, while others he was able to make nothing out of.
Fred knew the part he was expected to take in capturing the rebellious
raven. He crouched there on the step-ladder, waiting for his chance.
Trust a lively, wide-awake boy for being able to outwit any raven that
ever lived. Black Joe may have believed himself smart, but he could not
match wits with an up-to-date lad.
Fluttering his feathers indignantly, and still giving vent to a volume
of angry cries, the raven presently, just as his mistress had said
would be the case, settled on the top of the big picture frame.
Instantly a hand shot upward, and there was a squawk that seemed to be
choked off, as Fred's fingers closed around the body and neck of wily
Black Joe.
"Oh! please don't hurt him any, Fred!" cried the lady, dropping the
broom, and hurrying over to take the bird from Fred's hands.
Indeed, the boy was not sorry to get rid of the savage creature, which
was trying its best to give him vicious pecks, and struggling with
wings and claws to break away.
Once in the possession of Miss Muster, however, it seemed to become
very meek. She stroked it, murmuring endearing words, and proceeded to
fasten a nickeled chain about one of it's legs, so that it could not
fly away from the perch over in the corner by one of the windows, that
were covered with wire mosquito netting.
"That was very cleverly done, Fred," remarked Miss Muster, in a tone
that rather caused the boy to alter the opinion he had formed
concerning her. "Poor old Jake is so clumsy he makes half a dozen
attempts before he is able to catch the speedy bird. Once he upset the
step-ladder, and sprawled all over the floor. And upon my word, I have
always believed that sad wretch there laughed at him. It sounded like
it, at any rate."
She was beginning to thaw out, and Fred found himself wondering if,
after all, under the surface, Miss Muster might not have more feeling
than she chose to let people believe.
He actually began to like her. And more than ever did he hope that
something might come along to enable him to bring about a better
understanding between the rich old maid and her once favorite nephew,
now under an unmerited cloud.
"Sit down a few minutes, Fred," she continued. "And get your breath
back after all the exertion of lugging that heavy ladder up here. Then
I'd like you to take it back to where you found it. And I think I've
got a book you'd like to own. I did mean to give it to Andrew on his
birthday next week, but I have changed my mind."
Fred did not exactly like the way she pursed up her thin lips when she
said this. She was doing Bristles an injustice, he felt sure. Of course
he could not decline to take the book she meant to present him with, as
pay for his services; but in his mind, as he was carrying back the
ladder, Fred was determined that he would consider that it belonged to
Bristles, and not himself.
Once more he entered the living room, where he found Miss Muster
waiting for him, seated in her easy chair. The raven sat on his perch,
with all his feathers ruffled up, as though he knew he was in disgrace
with his indulgent mistress.
"Here is the book I want you to accept from me, Fred, and I hope you
will enjoy reading it," and as she said this she held out a volume,
which he saw was just such as a boy who loved athletic games would most
enjoy.
"Thank you, ma'am," he hastened to say, seeing his opening. "I know I
will like it; but I feel bad because you meant it for Bristles--I mean
your nephew, Andrew."
She frowned at once.
"Please forget all about him just now, Fred," she said, decisively.
"It's hard work for me to keep him out of my mind; but I never could
bear deception; and, as for a sly little rascal, who looks you in the
face, and denies everything, when you know he is _positively_ guilty,
bah! I wash my hands of him forever. I could never believe him again,
never!"
"But Miss Muster, he is innocent," said Fred; at which she started
violently, and looked keenly at him.
"Then he has fooled you as well as me," she snapped. "I warrant you he
is chuckling in his sleeve right now because he managed to deceive me
so handily. Much he cares about my feelings, when I was beginning to
have a foolish old woman's dreams about Andrew inheriting all my money,
and making the name of Carpenter famous one of these days. Oh! it did
hurt me cruelly, boy."
"But you are mistaken, ma'am, when you think he doesn't care," Fred
went on hastily. "Why, he can't sleep nights, thinking about it."
"Well, that doesn't prove anything," Miss Muster remarked
sarcastically. "A guilty soul often writhes when being punished; and I
suppose my last note to my niece, his mother, brought him into a peck
of trouble. I suppose now he does lie awake nights, thinking. Perhaps
he wonders what he can do with my lovely opals, now he's got them. Or
he may be scheming how to lay hands on the balance."
"He was in to see me this morning, ma'am," Fred observed.
"Oh! is that so? And do you think, Fred, that nice little mother of
yours would like it, if she knew you were keeping company with a boy
who was suspected of abusing the confidence of, his fond aunt, and
helping himself to her possessions."
"I think," said Fred, stoutly, "that if she heard all Andy had to say,
and saw how he suffered, she'd believe just as I do, that he is
innocent, and never touched your opals, Miss Muster."
"Well, somebody did;" the old lady snapped; though evidently more or
less affected by the staunch way Fred stood up for his chum; "does he
have any idea who could have done it? Perhaps he thinks my old black
Mammy did; or poor, but honest, Jake Stall. He was always a fanciful
boy, and it might be he suspects I walk in my sleep, and go around
secreting my own property?"
"No, ma'am he has never hinted at any such thing; but he says, while
lying awake at three o'clock this morning, thinking and thinking how he
could prove his innocence, he suddenly seemed to guess who it might be
taking your pretty stones."
Fred turned and pointed toward the blinking raven as he spoke.
"Well, now," remarked Miss Muster, looking surprised, and then smiling
disdainfully; "if that isn't just like Andrew for all that's out, to
accuse my poor pet of doing so mean a thing. It is true, I know they
will steal, and secrete such things as they particularly fancy; but I
watch Joe closely. Besides, there is another good reason why he
couldn't have taken those opals."
"Yes, ma'am," said Fred, when she paused as if for breath.
"He has been chained to that perch for more than a week past, and I
only set him free this very morning. So you see how Andrew's brilliant
theory falls to the ground. He must think up something else, if he
hopes to prove his own innocence. I wish he could, indeed I do. My
heart feels very heavy these days, for I was beginning to have some
faith in boys. But say no more. If you are going, Fred, please come
into the other room with me. I want to show you a splendid specimen of
a saw, taken from a sawfish down in the West Indies, and sent to me. It
is more than three feet long. You will be interested, because nearly
all boys like everything pertaining to fishing."
So Fred followed her across the wide hall. She opened the door of the
parlor, in which he remembered he had been on that former visit, at the
time she showed him the little bowl containing the opals, and other
valuable curios.
After opening the door Miss Muster passed in, Fred followed, but
remained a respectful distance behind her, a fact for which he
afterwards had reason to be thankful.
Some sudden notion seemed to take possession of the old lady for
quickly crossing over she took down the little Japanese bowl, as if to
count the opals remaining. Fred heard her give a startled cry. Then she
hastily looked again, after which she set the bowl down on a table with
a hand that trembled violently, and turning angrily upon Fred, she
cried in her sharpest tones:
"He sent you here to follow up his miserable trick! All boys are
thieves, and in spite of the lovely little mother you have, Fred
Fenton, you are as bad as the rest of them!"
Fred could hardly believe his ears when thus accused. He stood there
for several seconds, no doubt turning red and white by turns, as he
tried to restrain the indignation that swept over him like a great
wave.