A FUGITIVE.
Plums enjoyed his dinner quite as much as if he had performed his full
share of the gardening, and, when the meal was concluded, there came
into his mind the thought that aunt Dorcas Milford's home was a most
pleasant abiding-place.
Even though he was, so to speak, in temporary exile, he was exceedingly
well content, save for the disagreeable fact that Joe had stated
positively he should go back to Weehawken on the following day.
It seemed as if the thoughts of both the guests were running in the same
channel, for Joe, after gazing a moment at aunt Dorcas's placid face,
gave vent to a sigh of regret, and then looked out of the window,
abstractedly.
"I s'pose we'd better get that garden planted this afternoon, if you've
got the seeds, aunt Dorcas, an' even then we sha'n't be payin' for what
we've had," Joe said, after a long pause, while the three yet remained
at the table.
"Perhaps it will be as well to wait until to-morrow, and give the newly
turned earth a chance to get warm," the little woman said.
"It seems as though we ought to do it to-day, if it would be jest as
well for the garden, 'cause we don't count on your keepin' us for ever;
an' after we leave here to-morrow it wouldn't be right to come back."
"I did think boys would be a dreadful nuisance around the house," aunt
Dorcas began, as if speaking to herself, "but somehow I've felt real
contented-like while you've been here, and it's a deal more cheerful
with three at the table than to sit down alone."
"It's the first time I was ever in a house like this," Joe added, in a
low tone. "It's awful nice, an' fellers what have a reg'lar home must be
mighty happy."
"Where did you live in the city?" aunt Dorcas asked, after a pause.
"I knocked 'round, mostly. Twice I've bunked with some other feller in a
room what we hired,--of course it wasn't anything like the one
up-stairs, but payin' so high for a bed was a little too rich for my
blood."
"But you had to sleep somewhere," aunt Dorcas suggested, her eyes
opening wider, as she gained an insight into a phase of life which was
novel to her.
The interest she displayed invited Joe's confidence, and he told her of
the life led by himself and his particular friends in a manner which
interested the little woman deeply.
It was not a story related for the purpose of exciting sympathy, but a
plain recital of facts, around which was woven no romance to soften the
hardships, and there were tears in aunt Dorcas's faded eyes when the boy
concluded.
"It seems wicked for me to be living alone in this house, when there are
human beings close at hand who haven't a roof to shelter them," the
little woman said, softly. "Why don't boys like you go out to the
country to work, instead of staying in the city, where you can hardly
keep soul and body together?"
"We couldn't do even that, if we turned farmers," Master Plummer
replied, quickly. "Nobody'd hire us."
"Why not?"
"I know of a feller what tried to get a job on a farm, an' he hung
'round the markets, askin' every man he met, but all of 'em told him
city boys was no good,--that it would take too long to break 'em in."
"But what's to prevent your getting a chance to work in a store, where
you could earn enough to pay your board?"
"I had a notion last year that I'd try that kind of work," Plums said,
slowly, "an' looked about a good bit for a job; but the fellers what
have got homes an' good clothes pick up them snaps, as I soon found out.
It seems like when you get into the business of sellin' papers, or
shinin', you can't do anything else."
"Selling papers, or what?" aunt Dorcas asked, with a perplexed
expression on her face.
"Shinin'; that's blackin' boots, you know. Here's Joe, he scraped
together seven dollars an' eighty-three cents, an' said to hisself that
he'd be a howlin' swell, so what does he do but start a fruit-stand down
on West Street, hire a clerk, an' go into the business in style. It
didn't take him more'n two months to bust up, an' now he ain't got
enough even to start in on sellin' papers, 'cause he spent it all on the
princess."
"Who is the princess?" aunt Dorcas asked, with animation.
"She's a kid what he picked up on the street."
"Oh!" and the little woman looked relieved. "I thought, last night, when
he spoke of the princess, that it was a child he meant."
"Why, didn't I tell you it was?"
"You said she was a kid."
"So she is, an' ain't that a child, or the next thing to it,--a girl?"
"Joseph, what does he mean? Who _is_ the princess?"
"She's a little girl, aunt Dorcas, who's lost her folks, an' I found her
in the street. She hadn't anywhere to go, so I had to take care of her,
'cause a bit of a thing like her couldn't stay outdoors all night,
same's a boy."
"And, even though having just failed in business, you took upon yourself
the care of a child?"
"I couldn't do anything else, aunt Dorcas. There she was, an' somebody
had to do it."
"You're a dear, good boy," and, leaning across the table, aunt Dorcas
patted one of Joe's hands, almost affectionately. "Where is the little
creature now?"
"We hired an old German woman down in Weehawken to take care of her for
a week, an' paid a dollar. You see the fellers lent us some cash when we
came away."
"But what made you leave, Joseph, if you were convinced it would be
impossible to earn any money in the country?"
"You see, we had to, when--"
Joe ceased speaking very suddenly. He could not bring himself to explain
to aunt Dorcas exactly why they had left New York, fearing lest she
would not believe him when he declared he was innocent of having
committed any crime, and it seemed to him it would be worse than any
ordinary lie to tell this kindly little woman that which was not
strictly true.
He hesitated, made several vain attempts at an explanation, and finally
said, his cheeks reddening with shame:
"I'd rather not tell you about that part of it, aunt Dorcas; but I
didn't do anything that wasn't jest straight, though all of 'em believe
I did."
The little woman thought she understood something of the situation, and,
once more caressing Joe's hand, said, kindly:
"I don't believe a boy who would try to help a child when he was in want
himself could do anything very wicked, Joseph. Sit right here while I do
the dishes, for that will give me a chance to think."
Then aunt Dorcas set about her household duties, while the boys remained
at the table, Plums sitting in such a position that he could gaze
through the window which overlooked the lane.
After five minutes or more had passed, during which time the silence had
been broken only by the rattling of dishes, aunt Dorcas asked,
abruptly:
"If you paid the child's board for a week, why do you feel that you must
go there to-morrow?"
"Because I promised Mis' Weber I'd come, an', besides, I want to make
certain the princess is all right."
Aunt Dorcas gave her undivided attention to the dishes once more, and
Joe was looking straight before him, but without seeing anything, for
his thoughts were of the advertisements which had made him a wanderer,
when he became aware of the singular gestures in which Master Plummer
was indulging.
It was some time before Joe understood that his comrade wanted him to
look out of the window, and when he did realise this fact sufficiently
to do as Plums wished, he saw that which disturbed him not a little.
Dan was making his way up the lane from the road in the same ridiculous
fashion which he appeared to think necessary a detective should employ,
and Joe was positive aunt Dorcas would be seriously alarmed, if she saw
Master Fernald indulging in such antics.
"Go out, Plums, an' make that bloomin' idjut keep away," he whispered to
his comrade. "I won't have him dancin' 'round here in that style, an' if
he does very much more of it I'll tell aunt Dorcas the whole story. I'd
rather be arrested ten times over than have her scared 'most to death."
It was evident this was not a mission which pleased Master Plummer, for
he feared to incur the anger of one who professed to be so powerful, and
he asked, tremulously:
"S'posin' he says the same thing he did this forenoon?"
"Tell him to go back to the city, or I'll make it my business to send a
reg'lar detective here to fix things up."
"If he gets mad, Joe, there's no knowin' what he might do."
"He sha'n't stay 'round here, an' that settles it; tell him I said so,
an' I mean it."
Plums stole softly out of the kitchen, but aunt Dorcas was so intent on
her thoughts that he might have made very much noise without attracting
her attention.
Looking through the window, Joe could see Plums as he performed his
mission, and, judging from the gestures in which the amateur detective
indulged, it was quite evident he was displeased at receiving such a
command.
After conversing together a short time, the two climbed over the fence,
and disappeared in the orchard, going, as Joe believed, towards the
barn.
The threat had failed of immediate effect, and there came into Joe's
mind the thought that it was necessary he go out to make it more
emphatic, when aunt Dorcas, having finished the work in hand, seated
herself by the boy's side as if for a chat.
"Where is George?" she asked, and Joe looked about him in astonishment,
not recognising the name for an instant. Then, finally understanding to
whom she referred, he explained that Plums had gone out for a few
moments, and proposed to summon him.
"There is no need of that, for it is with you I want to talk. I've been
thinking about that little child, Joseph, and wondering what you could
do with her. You said the German woman had promised to keep her only a
week."
"Yes, aunt Dorcas, and I was in hopes by that time I could go back to
New York."
"What will you do to-morrow, after you have seen her?"
"Jest hang 'round, I s'pose. I've got to go, 'cause I promised, an'
then, ag'in, it ain't right to leave the princess alone so long. I don't
know but what she's frettin'."
"How old is she, Joseph?"
"Not more'n six or seven years; but she can't talk."
"Then she must be much younger than you think."
"Well, perhaps she ain't more'n a year old; I don't know much about
kids, anyhow."
"It seems as if my duty was plain in this case," aunt Dorcas said,
solemnly. "The little property I've got is enough to take care of me,
with economy; but surely a child wouldn't be very much expense, an' if
you'd do what you could towards helpin', I believe I'd say that she
might be brought here. It's a great responsibility; but if a woman like
me turns a deaf ear to such a story as you have told, it is almost a
crime. There's that poor child without father, or mother, or home, and I
have no right to fold my hands in idleness."
Joe was about to explain that he hoped soon to find the princess's
parents, for aunt Dorcas's words sounded much as if she believed the
child to be an orphan; but, before he could speak, the little woman
said, emphatically:
"You shall bring her here, Joseph, and I rely upon you to help me take
care of her."
"Of course I'll promise that, aunt Dorcas, an' I'll do my best to find a
job somewhere near here, so I can come over evenings."
"But I'm depending on your staying here, Joseph."
"Do you mean for me to live in this house till I can go back to New
York?" and Joe looked bewildered.
"Certainly; I shouldn't think of trying to take care of a child and do
my housework at the same time, even though there isn't a great deal to
be done. You see I'm not accustomed to children, an' wouldn't be as
handy as some other people."
"But, aunt Dorcas, you can't afford to have two big chumps like Plums
an' me livin' on you."
"We'll do all that lies in our power. If you and George are industrious,
you can do considerable gardening, and the vegetables you raise will go
a long ways towards our living."
"You're awful good, aunt Dorcas,--you're the best woman I ever saw, an'
I wouldn't think of hangin' 'round here if I couldn't do somethin'
more'n run that little bit of a garden. Things will get straightened
out, after a spell, an' then I can go back to town, where I'm certain of
earnin' money."
Again Joe was on the point of explaining that it was his duty to make
search for the princess's parents at the earliest possible moment, but
aunt Dorcas, fancying she understood the entire matter thoroughly,
checked him by saying:
"We won't talk any more about it now, Joseph. Wait until the experiment
has been tried, and then we shall know better how to make our
arrangements. You're going to Weehawken in the morning?"
"That's what I counted on."
"But how can you get the child out here? It is three or four miles,
Joseph."
"I'd walk twice that far, an' carry the princess all the way, for the
sake of havin' her where I am."
Aunt Dorcas was not satisfied with this arrangement; but she could think
of nothing better just then, and appeared determined there should be no
further discussion on the subject.
"We'll go into the garden and finish the task there. I don't suppose it
is anything more than one of Mr. McArthur's whims to let the upturned
ground remain twenty-four hours before putting the seed in; and even if
it is necessary, we can't afford to wait, because there won't be much
chance for such work after the baby is here."
While she was speaking, the little woman had been putting on her
sunbonnet, and Joe was seriously alarmed.
Unquestionably, detective Dan was in the vicinity of the garden, and,
not expecting aunt Dorcas to come out, neither he nor Plums would be on
the alert.
Joe knew that if Dan was brought face to face with the little woman,
without an opportunity of escape, he would boldly declare himself a
detective, and this would be sufficient to cause her anxiety, if not
alarm, for she could hardly be expected to know that he was a detective
only in his own mind.
"Let me go out and find Plums first," he said, hurriedly. "He ought'er
know what we're talkin' about, so if we don't get through with the work
to-night, he can finish it while I'm gone."
Without waiting for her to reply, lest she should insist on going with
him, Joe ran out-of-doors, and, as he had expected, found Dan Fernald
and Plums behind the barn.
"What did you come up here for, in the daytime, when anybody might have
seen you? I thought it wasn't safe to be hangin' 'round here."
"Well, it ain't; but you don't s'pose I'm goin' to starve to death, do
you?"
"Starve! Didn't you have somethin' to eat, this forenoon?"
"How long do you think I can stand it on four doughnuts? Here are you
fellers livin' high, an' I'm goin' 'round jest about ready to die."
"Well, that ain't our fault. I don't want to have a row with you, Dan,
'cause I s'pose you think you're helpin' us out. But I tell you you
ain't, an' carryin' on in this way only makes matters worse. Why can't
you go back to town an' leave us alone?"
"Why can't I? 'Cause I promised the fellers I'd see you through, an' I'm
goin' to do it. Besides, by this time folks know I'm on the case, an'
would arrest me 'bout as quick as they would you."
"Do you count on three of us livin' on one poor little old woman like
aunt Dorcas? Ain't you ashamed to hang 'round here when there's no need
of it, tryin' to make us steal something for you to eat?"
"There's no reason for your stealin'. I've been thinkin' over what Plums
said 'bout that bed, an' the custard pie, an' I don't see why I
shouldn't get my share. You could tell her I am your pardner, an' in
hard luck."
Now Joe was positively alarmed. If Master Fernald had made up his mind
that he desired to become an inmate of aunt Dorcas's family, he would
most likely do everything in his power to bring about such a result; and
the happiness which had been Joe's because the little woman had decided
to give the princess a temporary home, suddenly vanished.
Rather than ask aunt Dorcas to support three boys, as well as a child,
he would go his way alone, after telling her exactly the truth of the
matter.
"I'll loaf 'round here till 'long towards night, an' then I'll start up
to the house through the lane," Dan said, believing Joe did not dare
oppose him. "That'll give you a chance to tell her what hard luck I'm
in; an' lay it on as thick as you know how, so's she'll be willin' to
take me. Plum says this is about the softest snap he ever struck, an' I
want my share of it."
Joe remained silent while one might have counted ten, trying to restrain
his anger, and then he said, quietly, but firmly:
"Aunt Dorcas is too good a woman for us to beat in such a way as that,
an' I promise, Dan Fernald, that if you show your head on the lane
to-night, or try to come into the house, I'll first tell her the whole
thing, an' then go straight to the city. I ain't givin' you any fairy
story; I mean every word. There's no need of your starvin' 'round here,
'cause you can go back to town. The folks there don't think you're sich
an awful big detective that they're goin' to keep their eyes on you all
the time. I'll bet there ain't a single soul, except some of our crowd,
that know you've ever talked with us 'bout this."
Dan looked at his friend in mute astonishment. It seemed to him the
height of ingratitude that Joe Potter should thus threaten, when he had
made so many sacrifices to aid him in escaping from the officers of the
law.
More than all this was he hurt by the insinuation that his detective
ability was not of a high order, and in a very short time his
astonishment gave way to anger.
"You can put on as many airs as you want to, Joe Potter, an' we'll see
whether I'm a detective or not. I went 'round among the fellers
borrowin' money, didn't make any account of my own time, an' walked 'way
out here, jest to help you. Now I'm goin' to do as much the other way,
an' we'll see what'll happen between now an' to-morrow night! You'll be
in jail, that's where you'll be, an' Plums with you!"
"Here comes aunt Dorcas," Master Plummer whispered, hoarsely, and
instead of stalking away in a dignified fashion, as he had intended, the
amateur detective ran hurriedly around the corner of the barn to screen
himself from view of the little woman.
"We're in an awful mess now," Plums whispered to Joe. "It's a good deal
worse than it was before, 'cause Dan will do everything he's threatened,
an' we can count on seein' as many as a dozen perlicemen here before
to-morrer night."
Joe did not dare reply, for, by this time, aunt Dorcas was so near that
his words would have been overheard; but he appeared quite as disturbed
as did Master Plummer.