TELLING THE GOOD NEWS
Gabe Larkins' big whistle suddenly stopped. The boy was looking
craftily around him, up and down the winding path, as though anxious to
make sure that no person was in sight.
Convinced of this act, he quickly stepped over to the big oak, and
thrust his arm into the hollow. Miss Muster fairly held her breath with
excitement as she saw him take out the little cardboard box, and
opening it, drop something in, which he had drawn from the depths of a
pocket.
Fred arose; and the lady, taking this as a signal, did likewise.
Together they began to advance upon the crouching Gabe. The boy seemed
to be so intent upon his business of admiring the gems that he was
unaware of the presence of others, until possibly the rustle of the
lady's dress startled him.
Then Gabe looked up, and his face turned ashy pale when he saw Miss
Muster. In that one terrible moment he knew that his thievery had been
found out. Nobody could ever know the thoughts that flashed through the
boy's mind with the rapidity of lightning.
"Give that to me!" said Miss Muster, holding out her hand toward Gabe.
He dared not refuse; and as she received the little cardboard box the
old maid, glancing in, counted ten of her opals there, just half of the
entire collection. Gabe had increased his "take" that morning, and
added three to his plunder. His apparent success was making him daily
bolder.
He tried to face the indignant, yet sorrowful, lady, but his eyes
quickly fell before her look.
"Have you ever stopped to think where you are going to land, if you
keep on this way, Gabe?" she asked slowly.
The boy made no reply. Perhaps he was inclined to be ugly and sullen;
but, on the other hand, as he was a young offender, It might be
conscience began to awaken. And Miss Muster believed that, since she
meant to let him off this time, she at least ought to impress a lesson
of some kind on him.
"It means the penitentiary for a boy who begins to steal, as you show
signs of doing, Gabe; yes, and a broken heart for your poor mother. Oh!
I do hope this will be a warning that you will keep before you always.
Because of that mother I am going to let you off this time, my boy; but
unless you mend your ways there is only one end before you. Fred here
will keep your secret also; you can depend on him. And make up your
mind, Gabe, that even though you think you have succeeded in doing some
evil deed in secret, the truth will sooner or later come out, Now you
can go. I shall not speak to your employer, nor tell your mother; but
from time to time I am going to have something to say to _you,_ my boy.
I want to be your friend."
Gabe had never opened his mouth to utter a single word, and when he
hurriedly took his departure Fred was not sure but what it was a wide
grin that appeared on his face; as though he fancied that he had gotten
off cheaply after all. Whether Gabe would take his lesson seriously and
reform, was a question in Fred's mind.
"That ends it, thank goodness!" remarked Miss Muster, after they had
seen Gabe turn the path in the direction of his own home. "And now,
Fred, you get your lunch. After Ive had my own I shall drop in to see
my niece, and confess all my shortcomings. I fancy she will be too
happy at learning her boy is innocent to hold any grudge against her
wretched old aunt."
"Thank you," said Fred, laughing; "I do feel kind of hungry now. Just
knowing what bully good news I've got for Bris--I mean Andy--seems to
give me an appetite. I'll get there just in time to sit down with
mother and Kate; because father doesn't come home at noon from the
works."
"And, Fred, believe me when I say that I'll never forget what you've
done for me and mine," were the parting words of the old spinster, as
she squeezed the boy's hand.
"I'm glad, because I just know you'll make it all up with Bris--that
is, Andy," he said; and she nodded her head in the affirmative.
And at the lunch table, after making them promise that it should go no
further than the head of the Fenton family, Fred interested his mother
and sister by a recital of the strange case of the disappearing opals.
"And remember, Kate," Fred went on, shaking his linger at his younger
sister; "you must never, under any circumstances, mention a single word
of all this to even one girl. Just forget you ever heard it I'm going
to make poor Bristles mighty happy this afternoon; and the thought of
it gives me so much delight that I guess I'll be off now to find him."
He hurried out of the room, followed by the admiring glances of those
who knew only too well what pleasure It gave Fred to be of value to a
chum.
Bristles was not at home, it turned out, having gone down to the river
to hang around the boat-house, and wait for Fred to join him; because
something seemed to tell him the other was going to bring good news.
But Fred did see Miss Muster coming down the road as he turned away;
and from what she had said, he understood that the determined old maid
meant to "eat humble pie," as Fred called it, by asking Bristles'
mother to forgive her mistake.
None of the other boys happened to be around when Fred came upon
Bristles. The latter was sitting on a pile of boards which were going
to form part of the new house being erected for the Riverport Boat
Club. As he heard the sound of approaching footsteps Bristles looked
up, and smiled broadly to see Fred.
"Now tell me what's on the bills, Fred," he entreated. "I just feel it
in my bones that you've got news for me. Have you found out where the
opals went?"
"That's right," replied Fred, promptly.
"Say, you don't mean to tell me you've got 'em back for Aunt Alicia?"
gasped Bristles, turning red, and then pale, by rapid turns, and
leaning weakly against the pile of boards.
"Every one," declared the other; "your aunt says there isn't a single
opal missing."
"And was it that cunning old bunch of feathers, Black Joe, after all;
was my guess good, and did you find out where the old bird was hiding
them?" continued Bristles, possibly pluming himself a little on having
conceived a very brilliant idea.
"'Not for Joseph, not for Joe,'" sang Fred, merrily. "Fact is, when I
told what you had in your mind to Miss Muster she said it was a fine
thought, but she was sorry to say in this case no raven need apply.
'Cause why--well, she'd chained Joe to his perch for a week because he
got sassy, and wouldn't mind; and so you see, if he had to stay there
all the time he couldn't hop or fly into the other room and get away
with the opals every other day or so."
"Shucks! I should say not," replied the grinning Bristles; "but do take
pity on a poor fellow, Fred, and tell me the whole story. Who stole the
opals?"
"Gabe Larkins, the butcher's boy," replied the other, soberly.
"You don't say?" was Bristles' comment, after he had given a whistle to
emphasize his astonishment. "And yet, after all, I oughtn't to be much
surprised, because I happen to know he's always reading the sporting
page of the city paper his mother takes; and I've heard him even
talking about horse races and betting. But, however in the wide world
did you get on to him; and does Aunt Alicia know it all?"
"I think she's with your mother at this minute, telling her how sorry
she is for suspecting you; and also what she means to do for you in the
future to make it up. Now listen, and I'll make your eyes open a
little, I reckon, Bristles."
"Never heard the like of it in all my life!" declared Bristles, when
the narrative had reached its conclusion with the detection of Gabe in
the act of adding his morning's spoils to the balance of the plunder
which he had hidden in the old hollow oak. "I'll never pass that tree
without thinking of what you've just told me. Gee! I'm glad I wasn't in
Gabe's shoes when Aunt Alicia caught him. I can just see the look of
fury in her snapping black eyes."
"You're wrong there, Bristles," said Fred, quickly. "Unless I'm mighty
much mistaken there were tears in her eyes, when she looked down at
Gabe cowering there. Your Aunt Alicia is a different woman these days
from what you used to believe her. She's seen a light. She knows there
are boys, and then again boys; and that not all of them are alike in
everything."
"But what can I say to you, Fred, for getting me out of this pickle?"
continued Bristles, with a quiver in his voice, as he squeezed the hand
of his chum. "Only for you, look what would have come to me? I owe you
a heap, sure I do; and I only hope the chance will come some day to
show you how much I feel it."
"Oh! let up on that sort of talk, Bristles," said Fred, laughingly.
"You'd have done just as much for me, or any of your chums, if the
chance came your way; and you know it."
"You just better believe I'm going to keep on the watch to pass this
along," declared the other, fervently.
"That's the way to talk," Fred remarked, looking pleased at being given
the opportunity to bring happiness to one he thought so much of as
Bristles; "and perhaps you'll be able to pull a better oar, now that
this load is off your mind."
"Why, Fred, believe me," said Bristles, soberly, "I feel right now as
though I'd be able to put more vim into my work than ever before in all
my life. Wow! if I had wings I could hardly seem more like flying, my
heart is that light!"