At the Sign of the Jack O'Lantern Part 24

"The roads was dretful, but bein' experienced in marriage, I could see that it wasn't that that was makin' James drop the whip, an' pull back on the lines when he wanted the horses to go faster, an' not hear things I was a-sayin' to him. Finally, I says, very distinct: 'James, dear, how many children did you say you had?'

"'Eight,' says he, clearin' his throat proud and haughty like.

"'You're lyin',' says I, 'an' you know you're lyin'. You allers told me you had three.'

"'I was speakin' of those by my first wife,' says he. 'My other wives all left one apiece. Ain't I never told you about 'em? I thought I had,' he went on, speakin' quick, 'but if I haven't, it 's because your beauty has made me forget all the pain an' sorrer of the past.'

"With that he clicked to the horses so sudden that I was near threw out of the rig, but it wasn't half so bad as the other jolt he'd just give me.

For a long time I didn't say nothin', an' there's nothin' that makes a man so uneasy as a woman that don't say nothin', my dear, so you just write that down in your little book, an' remember it. It'll come in handy long before you're through with your first marriage an' have begun on your second. Havin' been through four, I was well skilled in keepin' my mouth shut, an' I never said a word till we drove into the yard of the most disconsolate-lookin' premises I ever seen since I was took to the poorhouse on a visit.

"'James,' says I, cool but firm, 'is this your magnificent residence?'

"'It is,' says he, very soft, 'an' it is here that I welcome my bride.

Have you ever seen anythin' like this view?'

"'No,' says I, 'I never have'; an' it was gospel truth I was speakin', too, for never before had I been to a place where the pigsty was in front.

"'It is a wonderful view,' says I, sarcastic like, 'but before I linger to admire it more, I would love to look upon the scenery inside the house.'

"When we went in, I thought I was either dreamin' or had got to Bedlam.

The seven youngest children was raisin' particular Cain, an' the oldest, a pretty little girl of thirteen, was doin' her best to quiet 'em. There was six others besides what had been accounted for, but I soon found that they belonged to a neighbour, an' was just visitin' to relieve the monotony.

"The woman James had left takin' care of 'em had been gone two weeks an'

more, with a month's wages still comin' to her, which James never felt called on to pay, on account of her havin' left without notice. James was dretful thrifty. The youngest one was puttin' the cat into the water-pitcher, an' as soon as I found out what his name was, I called him sharp by it an' told him to quit. He put his tongue out at me as sa.s.sy as you please, an' says: 'I won't.'

"Well, my dear, I didn't wait to hear no more, but I opened my satchel an'

took out one of my slippers an' give that child a lickin' that he'll remember when he's a grandparent. 'Hereafter,' says I, 'when I tell you to do anythin', you'll do it. I'll speak kind the first time an' firm the second, and the third time the whole thing will be ill.u.s.trated so plain that n.o.body can't misunderstand it. Your pa has took me into a confidence game,' says I, speakin' to all the children, 'but I was never one to draw back from what I'd put my hand to, an' I aim to do right by you if you do right by me. You mind,' says I, 'an' you won't have no trouble; an' the same thing,' says I to James, 'applies to you.'

"I felt sorry for all those poor little motherless things, with a liar for a pa, an' all the time I lived there, I tried to make up to 'em what I could, but step-mas have their sorrers, my dear, that's what they do, an'

I ain't never seen no piece about it in the paper yet, either.

"If you'll excuse me now, my dear, I'll go to my room. It's just come to my mind now that this here is one of my anniversaries, an' I'll have to look up the facts in my family Bible, an' change my ring."

At dinner-time the chastised and chastened twin appeared in freshly starched raiment. His eyes were swollen and his face flushed, but otherwise his recent painful experience had remarkably improved him. He said "please" and "thank you," and did not even resent it when Willie slyly dropped a small piece of watermelon down his neck.

"This afternoon," said Elaine, "Mr. Perkins composed a beautiful poem. I know it is beautiful, though I have not yet heard it. I do not wish to be selfish in my pleasure, so I will ask him to read it to us all."

The poet's face suddenly became the colour of his hair. He dropped his napkin, and swiftly whispered to Elaine, while he was picking it up, that she herself was the subject of the poem.

"How perfectly charming," said Elaine, clearly. "Did you hear, Mrs. Carr?

Poor little, insignificant me has actually inspired a great poem. Oh, do read it, Mr. Perkins? We are all dying to hear it!"

Fairly cornered, the poet muttered that he had lost it--some other time--wait until to-morrow--and so on.

"No need to wait," said d.i.c.k, with an ironical smile. "It was lost, but now is found. I came upon it myself, blowing around unheeded under the library window, quite like a common bit of paper."

Mr. Perkins was transfixed with amazement, for his cherished poem was at that minute in his breast pocket. He clutched at it spasmodically, to be sure it was still safe.

Very different emotions possessed Harlan, who choked on his food. He instinctively guessed the worst, and saw his home in lurid ruin about him, but was powerless to avert the catastrophe.

"Read it, d.i.c.k," said Mrs. Dodd, kindly. "We are all a-perishin' to hear it. I can't eat another bite until I do. I reckon it'll sound like a valentine," she concluded, with a malicious glance at Mr. Perkins.

"I have taken the liberty," chuckled d.i.c.k, "of changing a word or two occasionally, to make better sense of it, and of leaving out some lines altogether. Every one is privileged to vary an established form." Without further preliminary, he read the improved version.

"The little doggie sheds his coat, Elaine, have you forgotten?

What is it goes around a b.u.t.ton?

I thought you knew that simple thing, But ideas in your head take wing.

Elaine, have you forgotten?

The answer is a goat.

"How much is three times humpty-steen?

Elaine, have you forgotten?

Why does a chicken cross the road?

Who carries home a toper's load?

You are so very stupid, dear!

Elaine, have you forgotten?

"You think a mop of scarlet hair And pale green eyes----"

"That will do," said Miss St. Clair, crisply. "Mr. Perkins, may I ask as a favour that you will not speak to me again?" She marched out with her head high, and Mr. Perkins, wholly unstrung, buried his face in his napkin.

Harlan laughed--a loud, ringing laugh, such as Dorothy had not heard from him for months, and striding around the table, he grasped d.i.c.k's hand in tremendous relief.

"Let me have it," he cried, eagerly. "Give me all of it!"

"Sure," said d.i.c.k, readily, pa.s.sing over both sheets of paper.

Harlan went into the library with the composition, and presently, when d.i.c.k was walking around the house and saw bits of torn paper fluttering out of the open window, a light broke through his usual density.

"Whew!" he said to himself. "I'll be darned! I'll be everlastingly darned!

Idiot!" he continued, savagely. "Oh, if I could only kick myself! Poor Dorothy! I wonder if she knows!"

XV

Treasure-Trove

The August moon swung high in the heavens, and the crickets chirped unbearably. The luminous dew lay heavily upon the surrounding fields, and now and then a stray breeze, amid the overhanging branches of the trees that lined the roadway, aroused in the consciousness of the single wayfarer a feeling closely akin to panic. When he reached the summit of the hill, he was trembling violently.

In the dooryard of the Jack-o'-Lantern, he paused. It was dark, save for a single round window. In an upper front room a night-lamp, turned low, gave one leering eye to the grotesque exterior of the house.

With his heart thumping loudly, Mr. Bradford leaned against a tree and divested himself of his shoes. From a package under his arm, he took out a pair of soft felt slippers, the paper rattling loudly as he did so. He put them on, hesitated, then went cautiously up the walk.

"In all my seventy-eight years," he thought, "I have never done anything like this. If I had not promised the Colonel--but a promise to a dying man is sacred, especially when he is one's best friend."