ANDY'S WARNING
The parlor maid tapped at Cora's door. Gentle as was the touch, it
awakened the girl, who answered quickly.
"Miss," said the maid, "there is a little boy downstairs who says he
must see you at once. He simply won't take no for an answer."
"A little boy?" repeated Cora, sleepily. "Why, it's only six o'clock!"
"Yes, I know that, miss," went on the girl, "but Mary says he was
outside on the step when she came down at five. He's a poor-looking
little boy, but he doesn't want anything to eat. He says he must speak
to you."
Without the slightest idea who her caller might be, Cora hurried into
a robe and went down.
"He's on the side porch, Miss Cora," said the maid.
Cora went out through the opened French window.
"Why, Andy!" she exclaimed, for her early visitor was none other than
the boy from the strawberry patch. "Whatever brought you into Chelton
so early?"
"It's about the girls," he said under his breath, looking around
suspiciously. "And it's about that old Mrs. Blazes!"
"No one will hear you," Cora assured him, taking a seat by his side.
"What about the girls, and Miss Schenk?"
"Yes, and I was afraid I would not get here in time. She's comin' in
here--to scare you. I heard her tell Mrs. Ramsy so."
"And you hurried in to warn me!" cried Cora, much amused at the lad's
simplicity. "I am sure I am very, very much obliged. But tell me, what
did she say?"
Andy shifted about uneasily. Evidently the information he had was not
of the nature pleasant to impart.
"It was awful late last night when I heard it," began the boy. "Mrs.
Ramsy owed mother for some washing, and she said if I went after the
money late, when she had time to--bother with me, she would give it to
me. Well, I waited until I saw she had slicked up the work the girls
used to do, and I was going to knock at the side door, when I saw two
strange men get out of an automobile, and make for Ramsy's front
door."
Andy paused, evidently expecting some show of surprise at this
information.
"Well, go on, Andy," urged Cora. "What did the strange men have to do
with it all?"
"They asked for Miss Schenk, and I just guessed right. They were
detectives!"
Andy's eyes opened and closed in nervous excitement. To talk of
detectives! To have seen them and to have heard _them_ talk!
"Well," spoke Cora, almost smiling, "it was certainly right for Miss
Schenk to have detectives look for her valuables."
"That's all right," assented the boy, "but wait till you hear! They
told her--them two big fellows, that you--had the empty earring box, and
that they got it from you!"
For a moment Cora was quite as indignant as she rightly supposed Andy
to be.
"Did they say they got it from me?" she questioned.
"They said they were on the right track and would have the diamonds
back to Miss Schenk in one day. Then, when I heard them say your name,
and that they had got the box out here, I just rubbered fer fair, I
did."
"Now, are you sure, Andy, that you understood just what they said?"
asked Cora, to whom the actual report of the detectives to Miss Schenk
meant so much. "Try to tell me word for word."
"Oh, I heard them all right," replied the lad, "fer I crawled straight
under the window, and I was as close as if I was in the old rocking
chair under Mrs. Ramsy's arm. The thin fellow said he had found the
box. Mrs. Ramsy asked where, and I thought she would swallow her new
teeth the way she--gulped. Then the fellow said he had got them from a
young lady out in Chelton. This was like a firecracker to the women,
and they both went off at such a rate, that the fellows had to stop
until they cooled off. Then, when they had said about all they could
think of about girls in automobiles, and girls that came out makin'
believe to buy berries, and just to steal--then, the other fellow--he
has young whiskers--he said, that he couldn't say any more just then,
but he did have to say that he got the box from Miss Cora Kimball."
This was a very long, and trying explanation for a boy like Andy, and
he showed how the effort affected him. He jabbed his hands into his
pockets, crossed and recrossed his sunburned legs, then at last, with
one final attempt at self-possession, he got up and deliberately
chased the cat off the porch.
"Was that your cat?" he asked sheepishly, realizing that he had no
right to interfere even with a cat on another person's stoop.
"Why, yes," replied Cora, "but it is too early for his breakfast, and
he knows he is not fed--here. So it's all right."
Then Andy sat down again, a little shy from his error, for he suddenly
remembered a story his mother used to tell him of a rich young lady
and her pet cat.
"But you were saying," Cora reminded him, her voice kinder if possible
than before, "that these detectives claimed I gave them the box. Or
did you say they claimed to have taken it from me?"
Andy scratched his head, right at the left ear which always served as
a cue to the forgotten thing.
"They didn't say neither one," he replied finally. "They--said--they got
the box in Chelton--off a young lady!"
Cora never before realized what an error in speech might involve, but
she knew it was useless to question the boy further.
"Well, don't worry about it," she said, "and I think now you ought to
be ready for breakfast. Come, I guess Mary has something ready."
The boy stood up beside Cora, then, following an impulse that he
plainly could not resist, he stepped between her and the door to the
dining room.
"I ain't hungry, miss," he said, "but I want to warn you. You better
git out of the state!"
So sudden and so unexpected was this bit of advice that Cora almost
laughed, but looking into the earnest face before her she was
constrained to repress even a smile.
"Why, Andy," she cried, "I am not afraid of any one. I don't have to
run away."
"Well, you better be," he declared, his cheeks reddening to the very
tint of his hair. "You better be afraid of Ramsy and Schenk. They're a
hot team."
"But what have I done?" continued Cora, for the boy's manner demanded
attention.
"My uncle didn't do anything either when he got out of the state. And
if it hadn't been for that he would have been sent up. Fer nothin',
too."
That there was more wisdom than eloquence in this was plain to Cora,
but, even at that, she failed to grasp the whole meaning of Andy's
warning.
"Will you go to-day?" he almost begged.
"Why, Andy?"
"Yes, please do go. I would hate to see you git into that--mix-up."
"Now, little boy, you must not worry about me. See what a big strong
girl I am, and you know what a strong man Jack is."
"'Taint a matter of fists," Andy declared, clenching up his brown
hands, "but it's them womens' tongues. You don't know what sneaks they
are, and if you don't say you will go away to-day, before they git at
you, I think I had better tell your brother all about it."
"Haven't you told _me_ all about it?"
"Not quite," said Andy. "I don't suppose a girl ought--to know
everything about--scraps!"