HOW JACK CALLED AT THE SQUIRE’S.
ABOUT an hour later several dark figures might have been seen creeping
stealthily along, behind Squire Peternot’s garden wall, in the direction
of the house. A dim light shone at a window, and towards this they
cautiously advanced. Jack remembered how, on a former occasion, he had
gone with two of these same companions,—Cub and Tug, though he did not
know them then,—in a mob that was to have attacked Aunt Patsy’s house,
how they had approached _her_ window, and how he had abhorred their base
designs; and he could not help wondering a little at the strange chance
which now made him the accomplice of such wrong-doers. He seemed to
himself in the mean time much more the reckless little canal-driver of
old times, than the better self which had been developed under the
wholesome influences of his new home and friends.
“Now keep dark, boys,” said Hank, stopping behind some quince-bushes,
“till I see how the land lays.” He stole round the edge of the bushes,
to a spot that commanded a good view of the window, not more than two
rods off. Being tall, he could look into it and see by the light of a
dim tallow candle what was going on in the Peternot sitting-room.
“All right. Only the old man and woman. She’s jest goin’ into t’ other
room,—to bed, I guess. He sets by the table, chin in his hands; book
open beside him,—Bible, looks like,—but he ain’t readin’. No, she ain’t
goin’ to bed,—there she comes back agin.”
“Keep still!” whispered Jack. “There’s somebody!”
Somebody approaching from the street, entering the yard, walking
straight towards the house, and passing out of sight by the front
corner.
“Old man’s nephew! the Dinks feller!” whispered Hank. “Comes in at the
door,—says something,—old man looks up,—lights another candle; they are
going to another room.”
A light now appeared at another window, which Jack, greatly excited,
discovered to be partly open. Close by it grew a lilac-bush, under cover
of which he drew near, and peeped. He saw the tall form of Peternot
cross the room, and then heard a clatter of chairs. Growing bolder, he
advanced his head still farther, and saw uncle and nephew seated between
a bureau in one corner, and a table on which the light was, at one side
of the room.
“Did ye see ’em? have a talk with ’em?” Peternot was saying.
“Yes,” replied Byron Dinks; “they didn’t have much of a
sing,—schoolma’am wasn’t there,—not much company; but, having an eye to
the winter school, thought I’d stay and make myself agreeable.”
“That’s right, that’s right, nephew. And did ye make it all smooth with
Mr. Chatford?”
“I guess so; said you thought only of doing your duty in the matter; you
didn’t want the money, but, knowing it was counterfeit—”
“There you went a little too fur, nephew; I didn’t _know_; but go on.”
“It was well I made the statement, however, for that brought out a
surprising fact. You’ll be astonished, uncle!”
“Hey? what is it?”
“The deacon said he was gratified to know you had acted on the
supposition that the coin was spurious; and he felt sure that you would
be ready to do the boy justice when you found out your mistake.”
“Mistake? What mistake?”
“Coin is genuine!”
“No!”
“He says so; says he took half a dollar of it to the goldsmith, over at
the Basin, and he pronounced it good; at any rate, he gave a good piece
for it.”
“Nephew, you amaze me!—I—this is news—news indeed!”
The squire got up, and, turning to the corner of the room, drew forth
from behind the bureau an object, the sight of which made Jack’s heart
beat wildly.
“That’s it!” whispered Hank in his ear, leaning forwards, behind a
branch of the lilac-bush.
Peternot opened the loosely tied sack, and uncle and nephew eagerly
examined its contents.
[Illustration: JACK AT THE WINDOW.]
“It’s the tarnish that makes the silver look so bad,” said the squire.
“That deceived both on us. I had all the while a strange feelin’ that
the coin was good, though my reason said the contrary. It was only arter
I’d got it, and had paid the Huswicks, that my reason got the upper
hand, and I felt so sure ’twas bogus. I’m glad you talked with the
deacon. It’s astonishing! I didn’t make so bad a bargain with the
rogues, arter all! I guess we’d better keep it all together,” added the
squire, as Byron seemed inclined to retain the specimens he had been
handling.
“Be ye comin’, any time to-night?” called the voice of Mrs. Peternot
from the adjoining room.
“She’s waitin’,” said the squire. “We was just goin’ to ’tend prayers,
when you come in,—had been delayin’ a little on your account. I’ll put
it back here for the present; then, arter prayers, I’ll see what had
better be done with ’t for the night.”
Peternot, having returned the bag to its niche, sent his nephew out of
the room before him, and followed, bearing the candle, which he blew
out, to save it, as he crossed the threshold. The door was left open,
however, and a dim light stole into the room from the kitchen beyond.
“Now’s your time!” whispered Hank. “I’ll put ye in there! Pass out the
bag,—be still about it,—it’s all right.”
“I can’t, without making a noise!” replied Jack, trembling with
excitement. “They’ll hear.”
“No, they won’t! Don’t hurry. I’ll help you. Take off your shoes.”
Jack took off his shoes and hat, giving them to Tug to hold. Still he
hesitated.
“I wish they had shut the door! Wait a minute! Hark!”
“The old man is readin’ the Scriptur’s!” said Hank. “Then he’ll pray. It
couldn’t have happened better. Ye could grind a scythe, when he’s
prayin’, an’ he wouldn’t hear.”
Jack listened a moment, and heard the squire read in a loud, nasal
tone:—
“_But know this, that if the good man of the house had known in what
hour the thief would come he would have watched._”
“I _can’t_ go!” Jack whispered, turning away.
“You can!” Hank insisted. “Now or never! Your only chance. I’ll lift you
up.”
“Well! lift! careful!”
Hank lifted him, and Jack went in at the window feet foremost. In a
moment he found himself standing on the floor,—frightened, but alert and
resolute. He did not think he had made much noise.
The squire continued reading:—
“_The lord of that servant shall come in a day when he looketh not for
him, and in an hour that he is not aware of, and shall cut him asunder,
and appoint him his portion with the hypocrites._”
A thrill of terror crept over poor Jack, who could not help thinking
that all this applied, somehow, particularly to himself. But it was too
late now to draw back, he thought.
He glided across the carpetless floor, making scarcely any noise with
his bare feet, except that his ankle-bones cracked alarmingly. He did
not stop until he reached the corner by the bureau; when he perceived,
by the changed tones of voice, that Peternot was no longer reading, but
talking,—making a few solemn comments on “the words,” as he phrased it,
which they were “called to consider.” It was well for Jack that he had
seen good Mr. and Mrs. Chatford at their devotions, and also known them
in their daily lives, for otherwise I know not what contemptuous ideas
of religion he might have received, from witnessing the family worship
of the hard-hearted and worldly-minded squire.
As Peternot’s discourse was broken by intervals of silence, Jack
thought, “I’ll wait till he begins to pray.” Then came a clatter of
chairs: “They’re going to kneel down!” thought he, and grasped tightly
the loose top of the bag. But just then, to his consternation, he heard
heavy footsteps approaching; somebody was entering the room!
It was Peternot, who, feeling now a more anxious care for the coin than
when he believed it to be spurious, had remembered, during his devotions
(his heart being where his treasure was), that the window of the room
was open, and who deemed it prudent to step in and shut it before he
began his prayer.
The terrified Jack crowded himself into the corner by the bureau, and
waited, breathless with apprehension, while Peternot closed the window,
and turned to go out. The old man took two or three steps towards the
bureau, and gave a glance in the direction of the bag; but having no
light, he did not see the youthful house-breaker stuck up there in the
dark niche, like a shivering ghost.
Then he went back into the kitchen, leaving the door wide open, the
window closed and fastened, and Jack shut in.
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