Frank Merriwell's Son Part 29

Nevertheless, Mrs. Given had seen them, and she was not far behind when they vanished through the wide-open door. She found Uncle Eb propped up with his cane, standing in a dark corner of a box stall.

"Eben Small," she said, as she shook her fingers in his face, "you're a disgrace to the community! Now, not a word! Don't speak! I know what you've been doing, you and my husband and Elnathan Hewett! You've been drinking hard cider at Rufus Applesnack's store! I'm going to take Eli home, and I'll give him a dressing down he won't soon forgit! I tell ye not to speak! You ain't gut nuthin' to say!"

She then lifted her voice and called for her husband to come forth. As there was no response, she looked into the crib, and there she found Elnathan curled up, pretending to be fast asleep.

"Deacon Hewett," she said, "you've posed as an example to the community.

Now don't snore! I know you're awake! You can't fool me? So you will continue to snore, will ye?"

There was a squawk from the deacon, for she had seized him by the nose and given it a twist that brought him upright in the crib.

"Where's my husband?" she demanded. "Don't speak! Don't say a word! I want to know where my husband is!"

"Well, how kin I tell you if I don't speak?" snarled the deacon. "I dunno where he is, anyhow! Go 'way and lemme alone! This hot weather is giving me an awful headache."

"Oh, you've got a headache, have ye? Well, that's retribution, Mr.

Hewett. You ought to have a headache. You've led my husband astray. He's a temperance man."

"Me lead him astray!" groaned Hewett. "Why, 'twas him and Eben that coaxed me over to Applesnack's store."

"Now don't you tell me that, you sinful old hypocrite! Eli never touches hard cider unless somebody induces him to do so. And I know Eben don't drink it on account of the effect on his rheumatiz."

"That's right, mother!" piped a weak, small voice from beneath the crib, as Eli poked his head out. "The deacon is all to blame!"

"Oh, there you be!" she snapped, as she pounced on him and pulled him forth. "Now you git up here and march home!"

Having pulled him to his feet, she took a firm grip on his ear and led him from the stall and out of the stable.

CHAPTER XXIII.

IN THE NOOK.

That afternoon was to be long remembered by all the visitors at Merry Home. It pa.s.sed pleasantly in spite of the fact that Hans insisted on "rending a selection" on the flute and seemed rather disappointed and downcast when they begged him not to play any more.

"Der musig haf no heart for you," he complained. "Maype you vould like a popular song to sing to me. I vill gif you 'Efrybody Vorks Poor Vather.'

Yes? No?"

"Don't yez do it, Hans," entreated Barney. "We have suffered enough already."

"Und id vos such a peautiful song!" moaned Dunnerwurst. "I understandt der author uf dot song got only fife hundret dollars for writin' id."

"Waal," drawled Gallup, "maybe it was his first offense. Did he pay the fine?"

"Fife hundret dollars vos a small amoundt," said Hans. "Still I vould like to add it py my 'lefen dollars and seventeen cents vot I haf my pocket in."

"How much would that make in all?" questioned Gallup. "You always was a rippin' good mathematicker, Hans, though seems to me you did git a little balled up in substraction. If you've gut eleven dollars and sixteen cents in your pocket, and I should take five dollars away from you, whaot would be the result?"

"You vould be carried avay an ambulance in," said the Dutchman promptly.

Carker had bestowed a great deal of attention on Juanita. Although she pretended not to notice this, Mrs. Morton was waiting her opportunity, and it came when Greg strolled away alone beneath the trees. In a few moments she made an excuse and followed him. Finding him seated on a rustic bench in a little nook, she uttered an exclamation of pretended surprise over discovering him there.

"Why, Greg," she fluttered, "are you here?"

He rose at once.

"Yes, I'm here," he answered. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Morton, if I alarmed you. I'll not bother you if you wish to sit here."

"Oh, you foolish boy!" she laughed, placing her hands on his breast and pushing him back on the seat. "Sit down. Isn't this a delightful place!

We're all alone here by ourselves, and n.o.body can see or hear us."

She placed herself at his side.

"It might be somewhat embarra.s.sing for you if any one should discover us here," said Greg.

"Embarra.s.sing for me? What a foolish idea! You always were a foolish fellow, Greg Carker."

"You've told me so before."

"And told you the truth."

"I presume you still think so. You thought me foolish because of my socialistic beliefs. You used to make sport of me. I haven't forgotten that."

"The trouble with you, Greg, is that you take things too seriously. You never can see a joke. If any one plays a joke on you, you're offended, and you try to get even. You've been getting even with me to-day."

"In what manner?"

"By the way you made eyes at that insipid creature, Juanita."

"I wouldn't call her insipid if I were in your place," he remonstrated.

"It doesn't seem nice of you, Madge--I mean Mrs. Morton."

"Oh, call me Madge. There is no reason why you should be so extremely formal. I knew you before I met George Morton."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"I thought I knew you," he retorted, "but I discovered I was mistaken."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it is true."

"I don't believe you ever cared for me, Greg."

"And I know you never really cared for me. If you had, you'd not have cast me over as you did for Morton."