At the Sign of the Jack O'Lantern Part 25

The sound of the key in the lock seemed almost like an explosion of dynamite. Mr. Bradford wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead, turned the door slowly upon its squeaky hinges, and went in, feeling like a burglar.

"I am not a burglar," he thought, his hands shaking. "I have come to give, not to take away."

Fearfully, he tiptoed into the parlour, expecting at any moment to arouse the house. Feeling his way carefully along the wall, and guided by the moonlight which streamed in at the side windows, he came to the wing occupied by Mrs. Holmes and her exuberant offspring. Here he stooped, awkwardly, and slipped a sealed and addressed letter under the door, heaving a sigh of relief as he got away without having wakened any one.

The sounds which came from Mrs. Dodd's room were rea.s.suringly suggestive of sleep. Hastily, he slipped another letter under her door, then made his way cautiously to the kitchen. The missive intended for Mrs. Smithers was left on the door-mat outside, for, as Mr. Bradford well knew, the ears of the handmaiden were uncomfortably keen.

At the foot of the stairs he hesitated again, but by the time he reached the top, his heart had ceased to beat audibly. He tiptoed down the corridor to Uncle Israel's room, then, further on, to d.i.c.k's. The letter intended for Mr. Perkins was slipped under Elaine's door, Mr. Bradford not being aware that the poet had changed his room. Having safely accomplished his last errand, the tension relaxed, and he went downstairs with more a.s.surance, his pace being unduly hastened by a subdued howl from one of the twins.

Bidding himself be calm, he got to the front door, and drew a long breath of relief as he closed it noiselessly. There was a light in Mrs. Holmes's room now, and Mr. Bradford did not wish to linger. He gathered up his shoes and fairly ran downhill, arriving at his office much shaken in mind and body, nearly two hours after he had started.

"I do not know," he said to himself, "why the Colonel should have been so particular as to dates and hours, but he knew his own business best."

Then, further in accordance with his instructions, he burned a number of letters which could not be delivered personally.

If Mr. Bradford could have seen the company which met at the breakfast table the following morning, he would have been amply repaid for his supreme effort of the night before, had he been blessed with any sense of humour at all. The Carrs were untroubled, and Elaine appeared as usual, except for her haughty indifference to Mr. Perkins. She thought he had written a letter to himself and slipped it under her door, in order to compel her to speak to him, but she had tactfully avoided that difficulty by leaving it on his own threshold. d.i.c.k's eyes were dancing and at intervals his mirth bubbled over, needlessly, as every one else appeared to think.

"I doesn't know wot folks finds to laugh at," remarked Mrs. Smithers, as she brought in the coffee; "that's wot I doesn't. It's a solemn time, I take it, when the sheeted spectres of the dead walks abroad by night, that's wot it is. It's time for folks to be thinkin' about their immortal souls."

This enigmatical utterance produced a startling effect. Mr. Perkins turned a pale green and hastily excused himself, his breakfast wholly untouched.

Mrs. Holmes dropped her fork and recovered it in evident confusion. Mrs.

Dodd's face was a bright scarlet and appeared about to burst, but she kept her lips compressed into a thin, tight line. Uncle Israel nodded over his predigested food. "Just so," he mumbled; "a solemn time."

Eagerly watching for an opportunity, Mrs. Holmes dived into the barn, and emerged, cautiously, with the spade concealed under her skirts. She carried it into her own apartment and hid it under Willie's bed. Mrs.

Smithers went to look for it a little later, and, discovering that it was unaccountably missing, excavated her own private spade from beneath the hay. During the afternoon, the poet was observed lashing the fire-shovel to the other end of a decrepit rake. Uncle Israel, after a fruitless search of the premises, actually went to town and came back with a bulky and awkward parcel, which he hid in the shrubbery.

Meanwhile, Willie had gone whimpering to Mrs. Dodd, who was in serious trouble of her own. "I'm afraid," he admitted, when closely questioned.

"Afraid of what?" demanded his counsellor, sharply.

"I'm afraid of ma," sobbed Willie. "She's a-goin' to bury me. She's got the spade hid under my bed now."

Sudden emotion completely changed Mrs. Dodd's countenance. "There, there, Willie," she said, stroking him kindly. "Where is your ma?"

"She's out in the orchard with Ebbie and Rebbie."

"Well now, deary, don't you say nothin' at all to your ma, an' we'll fool her. The idea of buryin' a nice little boy like you! You just go an' get me that spade an' I'll hide it in my room. Then, when your ma asks for it, you don't know nothin' about it. See?"

Willie's troubled face brightened, and presently the implement was under Mrs. Dodd's own bed, and her door locked. Much relieved in his mind and cherishing kindly sentiments toward his benefactor, Willie slid down the banisters, unrebuked, the rest of the afternoon.

Meanwhile Mrs. Dodd sat on the porch and meditated. "I'd never have thought," she said to herself, "that Ebeneezer would intend that Holmes woman to have any of it, but you never can tell what folks'll do when their minds gets to failin' at the end. Ebeneezer's mind must have failed dretful, for I know he didn't make no promise to her, same as he did to me, an' if she don't suspect nothin', what did she go an' get the spade for? Dretful likely hand it is, for spirit writin'."

Looking about furtively to make sure that she was not observed, Mrs. Dodd drew out of the mysterious recesses of her garments, the crumpled communication of the night before. It was dated, "Heaven, August 12th,"

and the penmanship was Uncle Ebeneezer's to the life.

"Dear Belinda," it read. "I find myself at the last moment obliged to change my plans. If you will go to the orchard at exactly twelve o'clock on the night of August 13th, you will find there what you seek. Go straight ahead to the ninth row of apple trees, then seven trees to the left. A cat's skull hangs from the lower branch, if it hasn't blown down or been taken away. Dig here and you will find a tin box containing what I have always meant you to have.

"I charge you by all you hold sacred to obey these directions in every particular, and unless you want to lose it all, to say nothing about it to any one who may be in the house.

"I am sorry to put you to this inconvenience, but the limitations of the spirit world cannot well be explained to mortals. I hope you will make a wise use of the money and not spend it all on clothes, as women are apt to do.

"In conclusion, let me say that I am very happy in heaven, though it is considerably more quiet than any place I ever lived in before. I have met a great many friends here, but no relatives except my wife. Farewell, as I shall probably never see you again.

"Yours,

"Ebeneezer Judson.

"P.S. All of your previous husbands are here, in the sunny section set aside for martyrs. None of them give you a good reputation.

"E. J."

"Don't it beat all," muttered Mrs. Dodd to herself, excitedly. "Here was Ebeneezer at my door last night, an' I never knowed it. Sakes alive, if I had knowed it, I wouldn't have slep' like I did. Here comes that Holmes hussy. Wonder what she knows!"

"Do you believe in spirits, Mrs. Dodd?" inquired Mrs. Holmes, in a careless tone that did not deceive her listener.

"Depends," returned the other, with an evident distaste for the subject.

"Do you believe spirits can walk?"

"I ain't never seen no spirits walk, but I've seen folks try to walk that was full of spirits, and there wa'n't no visible improvement in their steppin'." This was a pleasant allusion to the departed Mr. Holmes, who was currently said to have "drunk hisself to death."

A scarlet flush, which mounted to the roots of Mrs. Holmes's hair, indicated that the shot had told, and Mrs. Dodd went to her own room, where she carefully locked herself in. She was determined to sit upon her precious spade until midnight, if it were necessary, to keep it.

Mrs. Smithers was sitting up in bed with the cold perspiration oozing from every pore, when the kitchen clock struck twelve sharp, quick strokes. The other clocks in the house took up the echo and made merry with it. The grandfather's clock in the hall was the last to strike, and the twelve deep-toned notes boomed a solemn warning which, to more than one quaking listener, bore a strong suggestion of another world--an uncanny world at that.

"Guess I'll go along," said d.i.c.k to himself, yawning and stretching. "I might just as well see the fun."

Mrs. Smithers, with her private spade and her odorous lantern, was at the spot first, closely seconded by Mrs. Dodd, in a voluminous garment of red flannel which had seen all of its best days and not a few of its worst.

Trembling from head to foot, came Mrs. Holmes, carrying a pair of shears, which she had s.n.a.t.c.hed up at the last moment when she discovered the spade was missing. Mr. Perkins, fully garbed, appeared with his improvised shovel. Uncle Israel, in his piebald dressing-gown, tottered along in the rear, bearing his spade, still unwrapped, his bedroom candle, and a box of matches. d.i.c.k surveyed the scene from a safe, shadowy distance, and on a branch near the skull, Claudius Tiberius was stretched at full length, purring with a loud, resonant purr which could be heard from afar.

After the first shock of surprise, which was especially keen on the part of Mrs. Dodd, when she saw Uncle Israel in the company, Mrs. Smithers broke the silence.

"It's nothink more nor a wild-goose chase," she said, resentfully.

"A-gettin' us all out'n our beds at this time o' night! It's a sufferin'

and dyin' shame, that's wot it is, and if sperrits was like other folks, 't wouldn't 'ave happened."

"Sarah," said Mrs. Dodd, firmly, "keep your mouth shut. Israel, will you dig?"

"We'll all dig," said Mrs. Holmes, in the voice of authority, and thereafter the dirt flew briskly enough, accompanied by the laboured breathing of perspiring humanity.

It was Uncle Israel's spade that first touched the box, and, with a cry of delight, he stooped for it, as did everybody else. By sheer force of muscle, Mrs. Dodd got it away from him.

"This wrangle," sighed Mr. Perkins, "is both unseemly and sordid. Let us all agree to abide by dear Uncle Ebeneezer's last bequests."

"There won't be no desire not to abide by 'em," snorted Mrs. Smithers, "wot with cats as can't stay buried and sheeted spectres of the dead a-walkin' through the house by night!"

By this time, Mrs. Dodd had the box open, and a cry of astonishment broke from her lips. Several heads were badly b.u.mped in the effort to peep into the box, and an unprotected sneeze from Uncle Israel added to the general unpleasantness.

"You can all go away," cried Mrs. Dodd, shrilly. "There's two one-dollar bills here, two quarters, an' two nickels an' eight pennies. 'T aint nothin' to be fit over."