Jack the Hunchback: A Story of Adventure on the Coast of Maine

Then, instead of doing as Aunt Nancy had suggested, he took Louis into the woodshed, amusing him there for nearly an hour, when the two ladies departed.

"Where are you, Jack?" the little woman called softly when the horse had drawn the wagon and its occupants on to the highway.

"What is the matter?" Jack cried, as on emerging from his place of retreat he saw a look of deepest anxiety on Aunt Nancy's face. "Did they come here to take us away?"

"It's not quite as bad as that," the little woman replied with a long-drawn sigh, "but very nearly. What do you suppose they wanted?"

Jack didn't even attempt to hazard a guess, and Aunt Nancy continued in a mournful tone, —

"They want to hold the monthly sewing circle here day after to-morrow!"

"Well?" Jack asked, surprised that such a request should have caused so much distress.

"Well? Why, Jack, how can you treat it so lightly? Just think of it! Only one day to clean house, go to the store, and do all the cooking!"

"I don't see that there'll be very much to do in the way of cleaning house. It shines like a new three-cent piece already, and how are you goin' to make it look any better?"

"O Jack! boys don't understand about such things. You can't see in the corners where the dirt always lodges, and the company will be sure to find everything that is slighted."

"Well, I can go to the store for you at least."

"I wouldn't allow you to take the chances of seeing William Dean even if you could do the errands, which is impossible. I must get Mr. Chick to carry me over in his team, and while I am away you and Louis are to stay in the house with the doors locked."

"I don't think there is any need of that. Those fellers wouldn't dare to come here."

"I can't believe they would; but at the same time it will do no harm to be careful. Now what shall we have for supper?"

"Do you mean to-night?"

"Of course not. It doesn't make any difference what we eat for a day or two; but we must think very seriously of what is to be cooked for the circle."

"Have some of your nice biscuits and a piece of cake. If folks can get anything better than that, they deserve to go hungry."

"O Jack! you don't understand such things. I should be mortified almost to death if I didn't do as well as Mrs. Souders did when the circle met at her house last month."

Then Aunt Nancy, looking as if a heavy burden of care had suddenly fallen upon her, went in to the kitchen, taking Louis with her, that Jack might be free to milk the cow.

Chapter XII

LOUIS'S ADVENTURE

On this evening, immediately after supper had been eaten and the dishes washed, Aunt Nancy announced that it would be necessary for her to call upon Mr. Daniel Chick.

"If I wait until morning his team may not be at home, and, besides, I want him to be ready to make an early start. We must be back by noon at the latest."

"Why not let me go and tell him what you want?" Jack asked.

"Because you don't know where he lives, and then again it is necessary to pass Mr. Dean's in order to reach his house. William might be at home, and who knows what would happen?"

Then Aunt Nancy made a hurried toilet, clothing herself in one of those quaint costumes which Jack did not think at all becoming, and said, as she entered the kitchen again, —

"You must promise not to step your foot out of doors while I am gone. Keep everything well locked, and if any one should happen to call don't show yourself without first learning who they are."

Jack agreed, and while the little woman was absent he rocked Louis to sleep, swept the floor until one would have said a broom ought to be ashamed for going over such a cleanly surface with any idea of collecting dirt, and was in the "fore-room" with a lighted candle admiring the crockery rooster when Aunt Nancy returned.

"It's me, Jack dear!" she cried as she knocked softly on the door, and when it was opened, entered with the air of one who has been successful.

"I got there just in time. He was going over to Henry Mitchell's to tell him he'd haul gravel to-morrow; but of course he had rather go to Treat's, for the work isn't so hard on either himself or his horse. Now we must get to bed early, for I told him I wanted to start by sunrise at the very latest."

"But, Aunt Nancy, you don't mean that I am to stay in the house with the doors locked all the forenoon, do you? There are lots of things I could do; but it would be pretty warm if there wasn't any chance for air."

"I suppose you might have the doors open, provided you kept a sharp watch on the road, and closed them again in case that Dean boy or his associates should come," the little woman replied thoughtfully.

"What shall I do?"

"You could clean the knives and forks, and wash all the best dishes through two waters. Be careful when you wipe them, Jack dear, for it would be terrible if any should be broken."

After these arrangements had been made, Aunt Nancy remained silent a short time to free her mind from worldly thoughts, and then came the evening devotions, when the little woman prayed earnestly for the "weary and heavy laden," which Jack thought was a reference to herself and the expected company.

It was yet dark next morning when a noise from the kitchen aroused the hunchback, and hurrying down he found Aunt Nancy busily engaged preparing breakfast.

"Why, you must have stayed awake all night!" he exclaimed in surprise.

"Indeed I wasn't so foolish as to do anything of the kind; but when I have work on hand I like to be about it, and goodness knows there's plenty for me to do between now and to-morrow night."

"Did you wake Louis?"

"No; let him sleep as long as he chooses. You can dress and give him some bread and milk?"

"That part of it will be all right," Jack replied confidently, and then he prepared to astonish old crumple-horn by appearing before her while it was yet so dark that she could hardly see the lunch of clover to which she was accustomed during milking time.

Breakfast had been cooked, eaten, and the dishes washed before Mr. Daniel Chick and his venerable horse came up the lane.

Aunt Nancy was not only ready for the journey, but had begun to grow impatient because of the delay, when he reined up in front of the broad stone step as he said in a cheery tone, calculated to soothe any angry feelings, —

"Well, I must say you're a master hand at gettin' up, Aunt Nancy. 'Pears like as if you was allers on foot like a sparrer."

"I try to do what I have on hand in good season," was the rather sharp reply. "There would be less poor folks in this world if people didn't dally round in such a shiftless manner."

Mr. Chick knew full well that this remark was aimed especially at him; but like a wise man he made no reply lest worse should follow, and turned the wheels of the wagon that the little woman might have no trouble in clambering on board.

Aunt Nancy stopped only long enough to give some parting advice to Jack.

"Be sure to keep a sharp watch on the road if you have the doors open," she whispered, "and don't go out, even into the yard, unless it is absolutely necessary, for nobody knows what may happen. When you wash the best dishes be careful, Jack dear, for I should feel very badly in case any were broken."

"I'll attend to it in great shape, Aunt Nancy."

"Don't give Louis too much milk at a time, the weather is so hot that it might curdle on his stomach; and if I don't succeed in getting home until afternoon, there is some cold meat and cake on the hanging shelf in the cellar. Don't go without a lunch; it is very unhealthy to work while you are hungry."

"Who's dallying now, Aunt Nancy?" Mr. Chick cried as he tried to prevent his horse from nibbling at the honeysuckle-bush.

"If you had come as you agreed I should have had plenty of time to attend to matters," was the sharp reply; and then with many injunctions for him to keep a firm hold on the reins, the little woman succeeded in gaining the rather shaky seat.

"Take good care of Louis!" she cried as the horse ambled slowly down the lane; and Jack re-entered the house feeling decidedly lonely at the prospect of being without Aunt Nancy for several hours.

In order to occupy his mind he set about the work laid out, and was so industrious that before the baby made known the fact of being awake, the knives and forks had been cleaned.

Fully an hour was spent dressing and feeding Louis, after which he was allowed to play on the kitchen floor while his crooked guardian washed the "best dishes."

This was a task which required considerable time, and at eleven o'clock it was hardly more than half finished.

Then again Louis wanted milk, and when it had been given him he insisted upon being allowed to go out on the doorstep.

At first Jack was disposed to keep him in the house; but when he became fretful, gave him his own way, as he said half to himself, —

"I don't s'pose there can be any harm in lettin' you stay here; but if anything should happen, Aunt Nancy would think I had been careless."

After that he kept a strict watch over the baby, going to the door every few moments, and on each occasion finding Louis playing contentedly with a string of buttons the little woman had prepared for him.

The fact that he showed no disposition to leave the broad stone caused Jack to have less care than usual, and this, coupled with the idea of cleaning the most elaborate dishes, rendered him oblivious to the flight of time.

He was brought to a realization of what was passing around by hearing the rumble of a carriage in the lane, and almost before he could reach the door, Aunt Nancy was in the house, while Mr. Chick had driven away at the full speed of his very slow horse.

"Did you get along all right, Jack dear?" the little woman asked, as she deposited an armful of bundles on the table.

"Yes, indeed. You see there has been plenty of work, and it doesn't seem any time since you left."

"Where is the baby?"

"On the doorstep. He fussed to go out, an' I thought the fresh air wouldn't do him any harm."

"Which doorstep?"

"Why here, of course"; and Jack stepped forward only to give vent to a cry of alarm an instant later. "He isn't here at all! Where do you suppose he could have gone?"

Aunt Nancy was at the door before he ceased speaking, and gazed up and down the yard in bewilderment, but without seeing any signs of the missing baby.

For an instant the two stood gazing at each other in perplexity, and then Aunt Nancy asked sharply, —

"How long since you saw him?"

"It didn't seem many minutes before you came; but I s'pose it must have been, else he'd be 'round here now."

"Run up to the barn and see if he is there!"

As she spoke the little woman went down the lane, returning just as Jack came back.

"He isn't there," the latter said.

"Nor on the road. Of course he must be somewhere near, for children can't disappear entirely in such a mysterious fashion. Go up the lane and I'll look back of the barn."

"But then we shall be leaving the barn alone You stay here an' I'll do the searchin'."

"It wouldn't make any difference if we left the house wide open for a month, I couldn't stand still while that dear little baby is wandering around nobody knows where."

Jack understood that it would be useless to remonstrate, and started off at full speed.

Up to the entire length of the lane he ran without finding that for which he sought, and then back to the house where he was met by Aunt Nancy on whose wrinkled face was written fear and anguish.

She did not wait for him to tell her that the search had been in vain, but cried, —

"Go up through the field from the shed. There is a place where he might have gotten through the fence, and it would lead directly to the duck pond if he kept on in a straight line!"

There was a tone in her voice which told of the fear she had regarding the possible ending of his adventures; and Jack, with a mental prayer that he would find the little fellow before it was too late, ran across the enclosure, Aunt Nancy going in the same direction, but at a slight angle.

The little woman's anxiety gave fleetness to her feet, and she travelled even faster than Jack could.

Both called loudly from time to time, but without receiving any answer, and Jack's heart grew heavy as he thought of what might have happened while he was in the house all unconscious of impending trouble.

As the two neared the pond the figure of a boy could be distinguished among the foliage of alders running at full speed toward the main road, and Jack shouted to Aunt Nancy, —

"There goes one of Bill Dean's gang. They know where Louis is."

This caused the little woman to redouble her cries, and a few seconds later two more boys could be dimly seen as they hurried away, keeping well within the shelter of the bushes to avoid recognition.

There was no longer any question in Jack's mind but that he would soon find the baby, nor was he mistaken.

On arriving in view of the pond both saw a rudely constructed raft of fence rails at least ten yards from the shore, and on it, crowing and laughing as if he was having the jolliest possible time sat Louis.

"How can we reach him?" Aunt Nancy cried, as she stood wringing her hands, while the big tears ran down her cheeks. "He will surely be drowned, Jack! What is to be done?"

The hunchback had no thought of his own safety or discomfort as compared with that of rescuing the baby.

Without hesitation he ran into the pond, continuing on at risk of being mired, until the water was above his waist, and the baby held out his hands to be taken.

"Sit still Louis, sit still an' Jack will come to you!"

It was impossible to run very fast through the water; and to Aunt Nancy, who stood on the bank in helpless grief, it seemed as if the deformed lad hardly moved, so slow was his progress.

More than once did it appear as if the baby would attempt to leave the raft in order to meet his crooked guardian; but by dint of coaxing, Jack succeeded in persuading him to remain seated until he gained his side.

Then he lifted the child in his arms, staggering ashore to where the little woman stood waiting to receive him, and the rescue was accomplished.

Aunt Nancy alternately laughed and cried as she pressed Louis closely to her bosom, and Jack stood silently by, wondering whether he was to be scolded for having so grossly neglected his charge.

It was several moments before she paid any attention to the older boy, and then it was to exclaim, —

"Mercy on us, Jack! I had entirely forgotten you! Run home as soon as possible, or you will catch your death a cold!"

"A wettin' won't hurt me on a warm day like this. I'm used to such things."

"But you must change your clothes at once, and there's no other way but to put on one of my dresses again."

Jack gave no heed to this suggestion, or command, whichever it might be called. He was trying to understand how the baby could have come so far without assistance, when Aunt Nancy said suddenly, —

"It doesn't take one loner to realize how the dear little fellow came here. Those wicked boys must have found him near the shed, and brought him to this place."

Several poles lying near by told how the raft was forced toward the centre of the pond, and the fact that three fellows had been seen running through the bushes was sufficient proof, at least to Aunt Nancy and Jack, that Bill Dean and his friends had done the mischief.

"I should forget everything I ought to remember if I had that Dean boy here this minute!" the little woman said angrily as she surveyed the evidences of the cruel work. "It is a burning shame that such as he should be allowed among decent people!"

"We don't know for certain that it was Bill Dean," Jack suggested.

"Yes, we do, for there is no other boy in this town who does such things. I shall see his father again, and when I do it will be very hard work to rule my spirit."

"It only makes them worse to complain."

"Then I will have him arrested!" And now Aunt Nancy spoke in such an angry tone that Jack did not venture to reply; but he knew from past experience that she would soon be sorry for having given way to her temper.

Again the little woman spoke of Jack's condition as if she had not noticed it before, and insisted on his coming home at once, although she could not have supposed he wished to go anywhere else.

Louis apparently had no idea he had been exposed to danger, but laughed and pulled at the tiny ringlets either side Aunt Nancy's face until her anger vanished, and she said in a tone of penitence, —

"Really, Jack dear, I get frightened sometimes when I realize how wicked I am growing. I can't seem to control my temper in anything which concerns the baby, and goodness knows how it is all going to end. I began by telling a lie, and now say terrible things on the slightest provocation, though goodness knows this would have stirred up almost any one. You see I took the first step, which is the hardest, and now fall before the least temptation."

"You oughtent talk that way, Aunt Nancy. If everybody was as good as you are, this would be an awful nice place to live in."

The little woman shook her head as if reproaching him for his words of praise, but did not continue the subject, because by this time they had arrived at the house, and it was necessary she should get the garments Jack had worn once before.

Again the hunchback received a ducking under the pump, and then went out to the barn to make his toilet.

"Come back as soon as you can, for I want to show you what I bought, and between us we must decide what we shall have for supper to-morrow."

When Jack returned to the house, Aunt Nancy had her purchases arranged on the table that he might see them to the best advantage, and then came the discussion of what was a very important matter in the little woman's mind.

"I bought citron so as to make that kind of cake if you think it would be nicer than sponge, though I have always been very fortunate in making sponge cake, and that is a good deal more than most people can say."

"Why not have both kinds?"

"I declare I never thought of that. It is the very thing, and I'll begin at once while you finish the dishes. This time we'll see if between both of us we can't keep Louis away from those wicked boys. I got a nice ham, for that is always good cold, and I engaged two chickens from Daniel Chick. Had we better have them roasted or boiled?"

"I thought this was to be only a supper."

"That's what it is; but it would never do to have but one kind of cold meat. Why, if you'll believe me, Mrs. Souders had chicken, ham, and tongue, to say nothing of soused pig's feet."

"Your supper'll be better'n hers if you make plenty of hot biscuit."

"I shall surely do that, and have loaf bread besides. I wonder if you couldn't wait on the table?"

"Of course I can. That was what I did on board the 'Atlanta.'"

"Then we shall get along famously. Now help me clear off one end of this table, and I'll begin work."

The little woman at once set about the task of preparing food for the members of the sewing circle, and nothing was done without first asking Jack's advice.

Chapter XIII

THE SEWING CIRCLE

So deeply engrossed was Aunt Nancy in the work of making ready for the supper, that the indignities offered Louis by Bill Dean and his partners passed almost unheeded for the time being.

It is true that now and then she would speak of what had been done, announcing her intention of complaining again to Bill's father; but the words would hardly be spoken before something in the culinary line demanded her attention, and the subject would be dropped until a more convenient season.

Jack labored most industriously, beating eggs, sifting flour, washing pans, and keeping the fire roaring, thus doing his full share in the important preparations.

Louis was forced to remain in the kitchen, despite his great desire to get out of doors; and both Jack and the little woman kept strict watch over him, but happily ignorant of the fact that hidden within the friendly shelter of the alder-bushes were Bill Dean and his chums watching another opportunity to get hold of the baby as before.

"The sewin' circle is goin' over to old Nancy's termorrer," Bill said in a whisper, "an' we won't be smart if we don't get a chance to square off with Hunchie."

"What do you count on doin'?" Sam Phinney asked.

"That's jest what we've got to fix up. The old woman will have her hands full of company, an' it seems as if we might rig somethin' that'll pay. Hunchie won't show himself outside the place, for he knows we're layin' for him, an' our only show is to sneak in while the supper is goin' on."

"We can easy get in the shed an' wait for something to turn up," Jip Lewis suggested; and the others thought this a very good idea.

"I'll cook up somethin' between now an' then," Bill said confidently. "There ain't much chance they'll let that youngster out ag'in, so come, go over on the hill an' see what the fellers there are doin'."

This had the effect of causing the party to adjourn without anything having been accomplished save an agreement between the three that, during the meeting of the sewing circle something should be done toward settling matters with the boy who insisted upon remaining in town after they had warned him to leave.

During the remainder of the day Aunt Nancy and Jack worked without ceasing in the kitchen, and when night came the arrangements for the company were so nearly completed that the little woman said with a sigh of relief when she and her crooked-assistant were resting under the old oak, —

"I declare, Jack dear, it is surprising how much we have done since noon! I never could have gotten through without you, and don't understand what I did before you came."

"I wish I could do more. It doesn't seem as if I worked half hard enough to pay for what you've done to help Louis an' me."

"Bless you, child, I'd be paid a dozen times over if I had nothing more than your company; and as for work, why, you've done twice as much as Daniel Chick's daughter would in the same time, and I should have paid her fifty cents, at least, if you hadn't been here."

"It doesn't seem very much anyhow; but if you're satisfied, why that settles it, of course. I wonder if Bill Dean's crowd will try to get hold of Louis again?"

"Not after I've seen his father, and that's just what I intend to do when the circle meetin' is over. We had better get old crumple-horn in the yard now so we can go to bed early, for I count on being at work by sunrise to-morrow."

The chores were quickly done, the house searched once more for possible intruders, the evening devotions concluded, and Jack went to his tiny room happy in the thought that he had been of considerable assistance to Aunt Nancy.

The finishing touches were completed by noon on the following day, and the little woman was arrayed in all her antiquated finery to receive the expected guests.

Jack had only the suit of clothes he had worn at the time of leaving the "Atlanta," consequently very little could be done on his part toward "dressing up"; but his face shone from repeated applications of soap and water, his hair was combed until every portion of it looked as if it had been fastened in place, and his shoes had a very high polish.

Louis's white frock had been washed and ironed, therefore he was, as Aunt Nancy expressed it, "in apple-pie order, and as pretty a baby as ever came into Maine."

"I suppose we shall have to put some of the horses in the stable, Jack dear, for a good many of the people will ride, and the question is whether you could unharness them?" Aunt Nancy said as she sat in the "fore-room" awaiting the coming of the guests.

"I never did such a thing; but it can't be hard if a feller watches how the harness comes off."

"You are smart enough to do almost anything. I'm certain there won't be trouble," Aunt Nancy said in a tone of conviction, and then the rumble of wheels on the lane told that the first of the "company" was coming.

The newcomer was Mrs. Souders, who drove a horse Jack felt confident he could unharness; and as she alighted he stood by the head of the venerable animal as he had seen regular grooms do in the city.