A STRANGE CALL AT A STRANGE HOUR OF THE NIGHT.
WANDERING to and fro among the dark and silent trees, Jack mastered his
grief at length; then, remembering that he had still one faithful
friend, he went to find Lion.
No affectionate whine welcomed his approach. He spoke; he stooped and
looked into the gloomy and deserted kennel: no dog was there. Phin,
foreseeing the possibility of Jack’s return on some such errand, had
that night chained Lion in the barn, and the door was locked.
Passing again near the house, Jack cast a vindictive look through the
window at Phin,—a look full of wrath and misery, which was, however,
softened a little when he saw Annie, standing, bonnet in hand, and O how
beautiful! talking to the family. Mr. Chatford had put aside his paper,
and the women their work, and the boys their play, to listen to her.
Jack knew she was talking of him; and it seemed that he could almost
hear the gracious words that fell from those sweet, sad lips.
He watched until he saw all eyes turned upon Phineas, and Phineas began
to cry. She went on into another room, and Mr. Chatford commenced
talking to Phin. Then Phin looked up through his tears and made some
violent protestation. The deacon turned with a dissatisfied countenance
to his newspaper, while Phin slunk away and sat moping in a corner.
“I’d rather be in my place than in his, anyway!” murmured Jack. “I’d
rather have anything done to me than _be_ mean and cowardly!”
The memory of all Annie Felton had said to him came back upon his heart,
which softened more and more under the influence of that pure and gentle
soul, as he walked back through the fields to Aunt Patsy’s house.
“I was dreadful ’fraid you wouldn’t come back,” said the old woman,
welcoming him. “See! I’ve made up a sort of bed for you on the floor.
You can sleep here every night as long as you have to dodge the
constable.”
Jack, deeply affected by her kindness, regarded her with struggling
emotions for some moments before he ventured to speak. Here was one of
the outcasts of society, of whom it was impossible for many people to
believe any good thing, who appeared to the world a hardened,
embittered, hateful old hag, and nothing more; and yet how kind, how
motherly even, she was to him in his trouble! Thus there are people all
about us whom the world judges from having seen only one side of them,
and that their worst side, while deep springs of human feeling lie
hidden in their lives.
Jack murmured his thanks, and said, “I wanted to ask you more about that
money. You said either Mr. Chatford or the goldsmith had made a mistake
about it.”
“I’m sure on ’t,” replied Aunt Patsy. “So don’t worry over your loss.
There’s no doubt but what that was Sam Williams’s trunk; and me and my
husband knowed as well as we wanted to that Sam was a practised
counterfeiter. Of course, the coin was bogus.”
Jack took a quick step across the room, and, returning, looked steadily
at the fire.
“If I had only come and told you about it in the first place!” he said.
Then after a moment’s thought, “Maybe I’ll come back and sleep on the
bed you have made for me; I’ll be here again in half an hour, if I
conclude to. Don’t wait for me longer than that. Good night, if I don’t
come back.”
“Any time to-night, I’ll let you in!” were her last words as he left her
door and disappeared in the darkness.
He walked fast down the road, passed Peternot’s house, turned the
opposite corner, and kept on until he came to a farm-house standing on a
gentle rise of ground near the street. He walked boldly up to the door
and knocked. A large-eyed, round-faced, cheerful-looking woman appeared.
“Is the man of the house at home?” Jack inquired.
“He’s somewhere about the barn, with a lantern,” replied the woman,
regarding him with some curiosity.
“I’ll find him then,” said Jack.
As he approached the barn, he saw a man with a lantern come out, leading
a horse. Near the door, which he left open, he set down the lantern in
the yard, and disappeared with the horse around a corner of the barn.
“He’s just going to the pasture bars,” thought Jack. “He’ll be back in
about two minutes.” His resolution began to waver. “I wish I had waited
till morning! Maybe ’t isn’t too late now. I’ll just slip into the barn,
anyway.”
He slipped into the barn accordingly, and seeing, by the light of the
lantern that shone in, a pile of clean straw in one corner, the idea
occurred to him that it would make a very good bed. He couldn’t help
laughing as he lay down and covered himself with it, thinking, “This is
a joke I guess the joker himself would relish!”
The man presently returned, took up the lantern, looked into the barn as
if to see that everything was secure, closed a door leading to an
adjacent stable, and then retired, shutting the barn door after him and
fastening it with a padlock.
“There’s been a boy here for you; have you seen him?” said the
cheerful-faced woman when he reached the house.
“I’ve seen no boy, and I don’t want to see another for a fortnight,”
replied the man, humorously; “I’ve had enough of boys! What sort of a
boy?”
“He had his hat over his eyes, but he looked to me just like that Hazard
boy.”
“Jack? That’s too rich! Ha, ha, ha! The idee of Jack’s giving his friend
Sellick a call! Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the merry constable.
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