A STRUGGLE IN THE NIGHT.
During the remainder of this day it appeared to Joe and Plums as if they
were abandoned by the little woman who had hitherto treated them with so
much attention.
Immediately after Joe arrived with his charge, aunt Dorcas and the
princess disappeared inside the house, and neither of them seemed to
desire the companionship of the boys until, at an unusually late hour,
they were summoned to dinner.
To Plums's great disappointment, the noonday meal was a lunch, rather
than a dinner, and aunt Dorcas apologised, by saying:
"I was so interested in making the acquaintance of your princess,
Joseph, that, for perhaps the first time in my life, I forgot my
household duties, and it was half past eleven before I remembered we
hadn't had dinner."
"'Cordin' to the slat of stuff you've got here on the table, I should
think you'd been at work all the forenoon," Joe said, approvingly, but
there was the faintest suspicion of jealousy in his heart because the
princess no longer demanded his attention.
Aunt Dorcas had arrayed her in some plain garments which might once have
belonged to herself or her sisters, and the little maid was so well
content with this new friend that she had but curt greetings for the boy
who considered himself her guardian.
Perhaps aunt Dorcas understood from the expression on Joe's face
something of that which was in his mind, when the princess chattered and
cooed to the little woman, paying no attention to the others at the
table, for she said, in a kindly tone:
"It's to be expected, Joseph, that a baby like this one would take more
readily to a woman than a boy."
"Oh, I know that, aunt Dorcas," Joe replied, with a poor assumption of
carelessness, "an' I'm awful glad you like her."
"Indeed I do, Joseph. Even in the short time she has been here I have
realised what a comfort it is to have a child around the house, and I
believe God has been very good in sending you and her to me."
Aunt Dorcas made no mention of being grateful because Plums was a member
of the family, but that young gentleman gave no apparent heed to the
omission, so intent was he upon the pleasure of eating.
Joe had expected aunt Dorcas would question him closely concerning the
journey, and want to know if the princess had eaten the cookies she
sent. He feared he might not be able to answer her questions without
revealing some of the disagreeable events of the morning; but, to his
surprise, she never so much as referred to the subject. All her thoughts
were centred upon the child; how she should amuse her; how provide her
with new garments, and the little woman even went so far as to speculate
upon the time when it would be necessary to send her to school.
Joe did not enjoy the food as he would have done but for having met with
Dan, the detective.
A big lump came into his throat, with the thought that this might be the
last dinner for him in the cottage, the last time he would see aunt
Dorcas, and it was only with difficulty he could swallow.
He had said he would give himself wholly up to the pleasure of being
there during the remainder of this day, and not until morning came
should aunt Dorcas hear his story; but before the dinner was eaten, he
began to question whether it might not be wiser to make the explanations
at once, and have done with them, so painful was the suspense.
While the little woman washed the dishes, Joe was permitted to amuse the
princess, but, as soon as aunt Dorcas was at leisure, she took the child
in her arms, and said, preparatory to seating herself in the comfortable
rocking-chair near the west window:
"The princess and I are going to have our nooning now, and you boys had
better go out-of-doors, where you can't disturb us with your noise."
The lump in Joe's throat seemed to increase in size, but he forced it
back bravely, as he asked:
"Isn't there any work we can do, aunt Dorcas? There's no reason why we
should hang 'round here with our hands in our pockets."
"I'll venture to say George isn't eager to be doing anything, for I kept
him busy this morning. It appears to me he isn't a great lover of hard
work, and I am certain you need rest. A walk of six miles--and I dare
say you carried the child a good deal more than half the distance--is as
much as ought to be expected of a boy in one day."
"But I'm not so awful tired, an' I guess Plums can hold out a spell
longer, so if there's anything you'll be wantin' done for the next week
or two, I wish you'd let me know it now."
"I don't think of a thing, Joseph. Go into the orchard, and amuse
yourself in almost any way except by throwing rocks at the birds, until
the princess and I have had our nap."
Joe could do no less than obey, and, once they were out of the house, he
said to Plums:
"Of course I'm a big fool to think any such things, but I can't help
feelin' sorry because the princess had rather be with aunt Dorcas than
me."
"I'd say it was a mighty lucky thing if we were goin' to stay here; but,
in case you stick to what you said about goin' away to-morrow, it will
be kinder tough on both of 'em."
"I wouldn't wonder if aunt Dorcas wanted us to go, after I tell her why
I left the city. She's too good a woman to keep a feller 'round, if she
thinks he's been doin' something wicked."
"But you say you haven't."
"An' it's the truth, Plums; but I can't make other folks believe it,
not even you, on account of that advertisement. Everybody says I must
have been up to something crooked, else the lawyers wouldn't try so hard
to get hold of me."
Plums could give no consolation. Although he had never known Joe to do
anything which was not absolutely just and honest, he was convinced that
some wrong had been committed, otherwise the advertisement would never
have appeared.
Joe lay down on the grass, under one of the apple-trees, and, despite
the sorrow in his heart, the chirping of the birds, the soft murmur of
the leaves as they were moved to and fro by the breeze, and the hum of
insects, soon lulled him to sleep.
The sun was far down in the west when he awakened, and, leaping to his
feet, surprised that he had spent nearly the entire afternoon in
slumber, he looked around for Master Plummer.
That young gentleman was sitting with his back against the trunk of a
tree, looking idly up at the fleecy clouds, while an expression of
discontent overspread his face.
"I guess I must have had a pretty long nap," Joe said, as if to make an
apology for his indolence. "I don't believe I ever did a thing like that
before. Hasn't aunt Dorcas called us yet?"
"Not as I know," Master Plummer replied, curtly.
"Then she an' the princess must be sleepin' as sound as I was. Of course
you'd heard if she'd called?"
"I haven't been here all the time."
"Where have you been?"
Master Plummer hesitated an instant, and then replied, speaking rapidly,
as if to prevent Joe from interrupting him:
"I saw Dan Fernald sneakin' 'round down by the road, an' went to see
him. We've been talkin' this thing over, Joe, an' it don't seem to me as
though there was any need for you to go off with the princess. You might
walk 'round the country for a week without findin' so good a place as
this. I'm sure aunt Dorcas had rather keep half a dozen boys than let
that youngster go, now she's begun to like her."
"I wish I'd known Dan Fernald had come here. It was in the agreement he
should keep away, an' I'd 'a' pounded him if I'd caught him sneakin'
'round."
"But, say, why can't you keep quiet, an' let him do as he's a mind to?
Perhaps aunt Dorcas won't take him in, after all."
"I ain't goin' to say a word against him; but I shall tell her the whole
story to-morrow morning, an' then clear out."
"Even if she wants you to stay?"
"Yes; 'cause I'd be ashamed to own I was alive if I'd let her take care
of such a crowd as ours."
Plums showed plainly that he was displeased by the stand his friend had
taken, and walked in silence down the lane to the road.
"Any decent feller'd do the same's I'm countin' on." Joe said to
himself, as he went slowly towards the cottage. "He wants to stay 'cause
he gets plenty to eat an' no work to speak of, so he won't look at the
thing the way he ought'er."
Arriving near the rear door of the cottage, he saw aunt Dorcas and the
princess playing on the grass with two dolls made of aprons, and the
little woman appeared to be enjoying herself as hugely as did the little
maid.
"I declare, I'm almost ashamed of myself, Joseph, to be seen at such
games; but I couldn't resist your princess's coaxing, and I believe I've
really had a good time. We must find some more Christianlike name for
her than princess. I think she calls herself Essie."
"I thought so, too; but I couldn't make out what kind of a name that
was. Did you call us after you got through with your nap, aunt Dorcas?"
"Certainly I did, Joseph; but I suppose you were too far away to hear
me."
Joe explained how he had spent the afternoon, whereat the little woman
laughed merrily, and invited him to play with them at keeping house.
Not until fully half an hour after her usual time for preparing the
evening meal, did aunt Dorcas cease her share in the childish sport, and
then Joe had his princess all to himself until they were summoned to
supper.
Meanwhile, Master Plummer had returned from his walk, but without having
concluded his fit of the sulks, and he apparently gave no heed to
anything around him until he was called to partake of supper.
On this night aunt Dorcas's prayer was one of thanksgiving rather than
supplication; there was a cheery ring in her voice which the boys had
never heard before, and Joe wondered at it, without once guessing that
the coming of the princess had made the little woman more womanly and
younger.
When the boys were in their room, Joe, who had almost forgotten, since
the moment he joined in the game of "keeping house," that, on the
morrow, he was to leave this pleasant abiding-place, realised even more
keenly than before how hard it would be to carry out the purpose he had
formed; but yet he did not falter for a single moment.
"I'll do it in the mornin', sure, an' I wish I'd told her to-night; then
the hardest part would be over," he said to himself, as he crept into
bed by the side of the yet indignantly silent Master Plummer.
Owing to his long sleep during the afternoon, and also the unpleasant
thoughts in his mind, Joe's eyes refused to close in slumber. He tossed
to and fro on the rest-inviting bed, while Plums slept audibly, until it
seemed to him as if the night must have passed and the morning was near
at hand.
This belief was strengthened when he heard a noise as if the kitchen
window was being raised, and he leaped out of bed, vexed with himself
because he had not gone down sooner to build the fire.
It was yet dark in the room, and he turned to pull aside the curtain,
when he found that it was already raised at full height.
"It ain't mornin', that's certain," he said to himself. "I wonder what
aunt Dorcas is doin'? Perhaps the princess is sick."
He went to the door and listened. A certain faint rustling, as if some
one was moving around in the room below, came to his ears; but it was so
indistinct he questioned whether it might not be fancy.
One, two, three minutes he stood silent and motionless, and then, not
satisfied that everything was as it should be, crept softly down the
stairs.
On nearing the kitchen he became positive some one was moving around the
room; but since no ray of light appeared from beneath the door when he
stood at the foot of the stairs, the startling thought came into his
mind that an evil-disposed person had effected an entrance.
It seemed preposterous burglars should come to the cottage in the hope
of finding anything of very great value, and yet Joe felt convinced
there was an intruder in the house.
Then it was that he believed he knew the person who was moving so
stealthily in the adjoining room.
"Dan has broken in here to steal something to eat," he said to himself.
"He thinks neither Plums nor I would dare do anything to him, for fear
he'd tell the detectives where we are, and knows aunt Dorcas couldn't
make much of a row if she wanted to."
Determined to punish the amateur detective soundly for his misdemeanour,
Joe crept softly to the door until his hand was on the latch, and at
that instant it was suddenly opened from the inside.
Not anticipating any such movement as this, the boy, who had been
partially leaning against the door, was precipitated into the room.
Only with difficulty did he prevent himself from falling, and had but
just recovered his balance when he was seized from behind by some one
who had evidently intended to clutch him by the throat, but, failing,
grasped his shirt-collar.
Even now, Joe believed it was with Dan he had to deal, and wrenching
himself free, which was not difficult, since the cloth tore in the hand
of the intruder, he struck out right and left, with the hope of dealing
an effective blow.
Before many seconds had passed, however, he understood that he was
battling with a man, and not a boy.
Once he received a blow on the cheek which sent him staggering back
several paces, and, when he would have renewed the battle, was met by a
thrust in the face which almost dazed him.
The intruder made no outcry, probably hoping the other inmates of the
house might not be aroused, and Joe remained silent, lest aunt Dorcas
should learn of the burglar's presence.
After receiving a third blow, and not having been able to deliver one in
return, Joe understood that the battle would speedily be brought to an
end by his discomfiture, unless there was a change of tactics, and he
closed with the man at once, seizing him around the waist in such a
manner that the fellow could not do him much injury.
The boy had but little hope he would come off victor in this unequal
battle; but yet he clung to his adversary, striving to overthrow him,
until, in their struggles, the two were at the open door through which
Joe had entered.
Leading from the kitchen by this way was a short hall, ending in three
steps which led to the shed beyond, and Joe believed the time had come
when he might gain an advantage.
At that instant, the burglar was standing with his back towards the
passageway, and putting all his strength into the effort, Joe flung his
whole weight upon the enemy.
The man, taken for the instant at a disadvantage, yielded a single step,
and this was sufficient for his discomfiture.
Joe forced him back, until the fellow toppled down the stairs, striking
his head against the threshold of the shed door with sufficient force to
render him unconscious.
The crash which followed the burglar's fall literally shook the little
cottage, and before Joe fully realised he had vanquished the foe, aunt
Dorcas was calling him loudly by name.
"It's all right; don't you come down, but send Plums here if you can,"
he shouted, in reply, and then stood irresolutely wondering what could
be done.
He had an ill-defined idea that the burglar should be made a prisoner;
but how that might be accomplished was more than he could say at that
moment.
Aunt Dorcas had ceased to call for him, when he understood that it would
be more prudent on his part to secure a light before taking any steps to
fetter the burglar, and he stepped back into the kitchen for this
purpose; but he had not yet found a match when the little woman entered,
holding high above her head a lamp, as she had done on the night when
Joe first saw her.
"Goodness gracious, Joseph! What _is_ the matter? You're covered with
blood! Have you met with an accident?"
"Now don't get frightened, aunt Dorcas; I ain't hurt."
"Why do you tell me that, Joseph, when I can see for myself? You must be
bleeding to death!"
"But I am not, I tell you. I jest got a clip on the nose, an' another
one behind the ear; neither of 'em will do any harm. Now don't you get
frightened; but I s'pose I've got to tell you what happened."
"Of course you have, Joseph. You don't fancy I can remain silent with
such goings on in my house, and not attempt to understand them. What
have you been doing to yourself? Why don't you answer? Can't you see you
are making me very nervous?"
"I didn't want to tell you, aunt Dorcas, 'cause I was 'fraid you'd get
scared; but there's a burglar out here in the shed. I knocked him silly
by pitching him down-stairs, an' now I'm tryin' to think how we can keep
him from gettin' away."
"A burglar! Keep him from getting away? Why, Joseph Potter, we don't
want any burglars 'round this house! For mercy's sake, if the poor,
misguided creature will go, don't you try to stop him! Did you hurt him
very much?"
Joe was relieved in mind because aunt Dorcas, instead of being terrified
at the information that a burglar was in the house, was only solicitous
lest he might have been injured, and he replied, grimly:
"I reckon I'm the one what got the worst of that little fuss. You
needn't feel so very bad 'bout him, 'cause he's only bumped his head.
But say, we mustn't let him go after what he's tried to do. I'll tie
him, an' you call Plums to go for a perliceman."
"Joseph, I never would consent to have a poor fellow arrested; but he
shall be talked to severely, for injuring you as he has done. The idea
of a grown-up man striking a child so hard as to bring blood!"
However serious the situation, Joe could not have restrained his mirth.
Aunt Dorcas's pity for the burglar, and fear lest he had been injured,
was to him very comical, and he laughed heartily, until the little woman
said, in a tone of reproof:
"Joseph, that poor man may be dying, and by your hand, while you are
making merry. Where is he?"
Joe stifled his mirth as best he could, and, taking the lamp, and the
tender-hearted little woman's hand, led the way towards the shed door,
as he replied:
"I'll show him to you, aunt Dorcas, an' then if you want to tie a rag
'round his throat, or put a plaster on his head, you can."
But Joe did not make as thorough an exhibition of his burglar as he had
anticipated.
The man had regained consciousness, and all aunt Dorcas saw of the
intruder was a dark form which ran past her into the kitchen, and from
there leaped through the open window.
Joe could not have stopped the burglar if he wished, so sudden and
unexpected had been the fellow's movements; but he was deeply chagrined
that his enemy should thus have escaped so readily.
"He's gone, an' I ought'er be kicked for standin' here chinnin' with
you, as if he'd wait till I got ready to tie him up!"
"We should be thankful to him for going without making any more of a
disturbance. I'm relieved to know he wasn't seriously hurt, and--How
wicked I am to stand here talking about anything, when your wounds
should be attended to! It's a mercy you haven't bled to death long
before this."
"There's no danger of anything of that kind, aunt Dorcas, and if you'll
go right back to bed, I'll tend to myself in great shape. There's no
need of your fussin' 'round."
"You must believe me a perfect wretch if you think I could leave you in
such a condition. But, Joseph, I would like to go back and dress myself
properly."
"There's no reason why you shouldn't leave me till mornin' jest as well
as not, so go ahead, aunt Dorcas, an' do whatever you please."
[Illustration: "A DARK FORM LEAPED THROUGH THE OPEN WINDOW."]
"Sit down here by the table, where you will have something on which to
rest your head if you grow faint, and I'll be back in a moment."
Aunt Dorcas closed the kitchen door, lest a draft of air should come
upon the boy she believed so grievously wounded, and went to her own
room, Joe saying to himself, meanwhile:
"I'd been willin' for him to have pounded me into shoestrings, if it
would save me from havin' to tell a woman as good as she is that I ran
away from New York to keep out of jail."