by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER II.
AT AUNT NANCY'S.
Jack toiled manfully on, running until his breath came in such shortgasps that he was forced to walk slowly, and then pressing forward oncemore as if expecting Farmer Pratt was in full pursuit, urged to rapidtravelling by the fear that little Louis would be taken to the poorfarm.
Up the long, steep hill, past the railroad station, until three roadsstretched out before him: one straight ahead, another to the right, andthe third to the left.
He believed there was no time for hesitation.
The one leading toward the south was the most inviting because of thetrees scattered here and there along its edges, and into this he turned,going directly away from the city where Louis's mother awaited tidingsof her darling.
The child grew fretful because of the heat and the dust, and the littlehunchback heeded not his own fatigue in the effort to quiet him.
On he went, literally staggering under his heavy burden, until theyellow road seemed to mellow into a mist which danced and fell, and roseand danced again before his eyes until further progress was wellnighimpossible.
They had arrived at a tiny stream, the banks of which were fringed withalders, and overhead a wooden bridge afforded a most pleasing shelterfrom the sun's burning rays.
Wiping the perspiration from his face, Jack looked back.
No one was in sight.
If Farmer Pratt had come in pursuit he might have mistaken the road, orturned homeward again some time previous, believing the boat not ofsufficient value to warrant the journey which, if successful, would onlyend at the poorhouse.
"Here's where we're goin' to stop, Louis," Jack said, lowering the childto the ground. "It'll be cool among these bushes, and if we turn intothe fields a bit no one can see us from the road."
Then Jack took off his shoes and stockings, holding them on one arm ashe raised the child with the other, and, wading through the shallowwater, made his way among the bushes a distance of forty or fifty feetto where the leafy screen would prevent passing travellers from seeingthem.
"I tell you what, the water feels good around a fellow's feet. I'm goin'to give you the same kind of a dose, an' then you'll be ready to go tosleep."
Louis, sitting on the grass at the edge of the stream, offered noobjection to the plan, and Jack soon made him ready for the partialbath.
As the child's feet touched the water he laughed with glee, and Jack'sfatigue was forgotten in his delight at having been able to afford thispleasure.
After a few moments of such sport the misshapen guardian wiped the pinkfeet carefully with his handkerchief, replaced the shoes and stockings,took from his pocket the bread which was crumbled into many fragments,moistened them in the brook, and fed his charge until the latter's eyesclosed in slumber.
Not before he had arranged a screen of leaves in such a manner that thesun would be prevented from looking in upon the sleeping child did Jackthink of himself and then he too indulged in the much-needed rest.
The hours passed until the sun began to sink in the west.
The birds came out from among the leaves and peeped down curiously atthe sleeping children, while a colony of frogs leaped upon amoss-covered log, croaking in chorus their surprise at these unfamiliarvisitors.
One venerable fellow seemed to think this a most fitting opportunity toread his sons a homily on the sin of running away, and after the lengthylesson was concluded he plunged into the water with a hoarse note ofdisapprobation, making such a splash that Jack leaped to his feetthoroughly awake and decidedly frightened.
The hasty departure of the other frogs explained the cause of thedisturbance, and he laughed to himself as he said,--
"I reckon my hump frightened them as much as they did me."
He made a hurried toilet, bathed Louis's face with his wet handkerchiefuntil the little fellow awoke, and then continued what was at the sametime a flight and a journey.
"We've got to run the risk that somebody else will try to send us to thepoor farm," he said when they had trudged along the dusty road until thechild became fretful again. "At the next nice-lookin' house we come toI'm goin' to ask the folks if they'll let me do chores enough to pay forour lodging."
Fully half an hour passed before they were where this plan could becarried into effect, and then Jack halted in front of a small whitecottage which stood at the head of an arm of the sea, partially hiddenby the trees.
"Here's where we've got to try our luck," the boy said as he surveyedthe house intently, and almost as he spoke a tiny woman with tinyringlets either side her wrinkled face appeared in the doorway, startingback as if in alarm on seeing the newcomers.
"Goodness me!" she exclaimed as she suddenly observed Jack staringintently at her. "Why don't you come out of the sun? That child will beburned brown as an Injun if you stand there long."
Jack pressed Louis closer to him as he stepped forward a few paces, andasked hesitatingly,--
"Please, ma'am, if you'll let us stay here to-night I'll do up all thechores as slick as a pin."
The little woman's surprise deepened almost into bewilderment as sheglanced first at Louis, who had by this time clambered down from hisguardian's arms, and then at Jack's boots, which were covered thicklywith dust.
"Oh, I'll brush myself before I come in," the boy said quickly,believing her hesitation was caused by the dirt on his garments, "an' wewon't be a mite of trouble."
The mistress of the cottage took Louis by the hand and led him, withJack following close behind, into the wide, cool hall, the floor ofwhich was covered with rugs woven with representations of impossibleanimals in all the colors of the rainbow.
"Now tell me where you came from, and why it is necessary to ask for ahome?"
Jack hesitated an instant.
The fear that she too might insist on sending Louis to the poor farmcaused him to question whether he had better tell the whole truth, butanother look at the kindly face decided him.
He related his story with more detail than he had to Farmer Pratt, andwhen he concluded the little woman said in a motherly tone,--
"You poor children! If the ship exploded there's no one for you to gohome to, and what _will_ become of such a helpless pair?"
"I can't tell I'm sure, ma'am; but I know we ain't helpless"; and Jackspoke very decidedly now. "I'm big an' can work, so I'll take care ofLouis till we find his father."
"But if the ship was blown all to pieces?" the little woman continued.
"That don't make any difference," Jack interrupted. "We're goin' rightto his house in New York some time, no matter how far it is."
"But it's a terribly long distance, and you children will surely besun-struck before you get even to Boston!" Then she added quickly, "HereI am forgetting that you must be hungry! Come straight away into thekitchen while I see what there is in the cupboard, for Aunt Nancy Curtisnever lets any one, much less children, want for food very long in herhouse."
"Are you Aunt Nancy?" Jack asked.
"I'm aunt to everybody in the neighborhood, which ain't many, and two orthree more nephews won't make any difference. Set right up to the table,and after you've had a glass of cool milk, a piece of chicken and somecake I baked to put away for the summer boarders, we'll see what can bedone."
Jack was disposed to be just a trifle jealous of Louis's evidentadmiration for this quaint little Aunt Nancy. He had already taken herby the hand, and, in his baby fashion, was telling some story which noone, probably not even himself, could understand.
"You are a dear little boy," the old lady said as she led him into thekitchen; "but neither you nor Jack here is any more calculated to walkto New York than I am to go to China this minute."
"If you'll let me have a brush I'll get some of this dust off," Jacksaid as he glanced at the well-scoured floor and then at his shoes. "I'mnot fit to go anywhere till I look more decent."
"Here's a whisk-broom. Be careful not to break the handle, and don'tthrow it on the ground when you're done," Aunt Nancy
said as she handedthe brush to Jack. "There's the pump, and here's a towel and piece ofsoap, so scrub yourself as much as you please, for boys never can be tooclean. I'll comb the baby's hair while you're gone, and then we'll havesupper."
Louis made not the slightest protest when his misshapen little guardianleft him alone with Aunt Nancy. He had evidently decided that she was awoman who could be trusted, and had travelled so much during the daythat even a journey to the pump was more than he cared to undertake.
Jack brushed and scrubbed, and rubbed his face with the towel, afterholding his head under the pump, until the skin glowed red, but cleanly.
When he entered the kitchen again where the little woman and Louis wereseated cosily at the table, he was presentable even to Aunt Nancy, inwhose eyes the least particle of dirt was an abomination.
He took the vacant chair by Louis's side, and was considerablysurprised, because it was something so unusual in his experience, to seethe little woman clasp her withered hands and invoke a blessing upon"the strangers within her gates," when she had thanked her Father forall his bounties.
"I went to meetin' once down in Savannah," Jack said; "but I didn't knowfolks had 'em right in their houses."
Aunt Nancy looked at him with astonishment, and replied gravely,--
"My child, it is never possible to give too much praise for all we arepermitted to enjoy, and one needn't wait until he is in church beforespeaking to our Father."
Jack did not exactly understand what she meant, but he knew from theexpression on the wrinkled face that it was perfectly correct, and atonce proceeded to give his undivided attention to the food which hadbeen put upon his plate with a liberal hand.
How thoroughly enjoyable was that meal in the roomy old kitchen, throughwhich the summer breezes wafted perfume from the honeysuckles, and thebees sang at the open windows while intent on the honey harvest!
When the children's hunger was appeased, it seemed as if half theirtroubles had suddenly vanished.
Louis crowed and talked after his own peculiar fashion; Jack toldstories of life on board the "Atlanta," and Aunt Nancy appeared to enjoythis "visiting" quite as much as did her guests.
The housework was to be done, however, and could not be neglected,deeply interested though the little woman was in the yarns Jack spun,therefore she said as she began to collect the soiled dishes,--
"Now if you will take care of the baby I'll have the kitchen cleaned ina twinkling, and then we'll go out under the big oak-tree where I loveto sit when the sun is painting the clouds in the west with red andgold."
"Louis can take care of himself if we put him on the floor," Jackreplied, "and I will dry the dishes for you; I've done it lots of timeson the 'Atlanta.'"
The little woman could not refuse this proffered aid, although shelooked very much as if she fancied the work would not be done exactly toher satisfaction, and after glancing at Jack's hands to make certainthey were perfectly clean, she began operations.
Much to her surprise, the deformed boy was very apt at such tasks, andAunt Nancy said as she looked over her spectacles at him while hecarefully dried one of her best China cups,--
"Well I declare! If you ain't the first boy I ever saw who was fit tolive with an old maid like me. You are handier than half the girls Ihave here when the summer boarders come, and if you could only milk acow we should get along famously."
"It wouldn't take me long to learn," Jack said quickly; for he was eagerto assist the little lady as much as possible, having decided in his ownmind that this would be a very pleasant abiding place for himself andLouis until the weather should be cooler, when the tramp to New Yorkcould be continued with less discomfort. "If you'd show me how once I'msure I'd soon find out, and--"
"It won't do any harm to try at all events," Aunt Nancy repliedthoughtfully; "but the cow hasn't come home yet, and there's plenty oftime."
When the dishes were washed and set carefully away in the cupboard, thelittle woman explaining to her assistant where each particular articleof crockery belonged, Jack began to sweep the already painfully cleanfloor. Aunt Nancy wiped with a damp towel imaginary specks of dirt fromthe furniture, and Louis, as if realizing the importance of winning theaffections of his hostess, laid his head on the rag rug and closed hiseyes in slumber before the work of putting the kitchen to rights wasfinished.
"Dear little baby! I suppose he's all tired out," Aunt Nancy said as shetook him in her arms, leaving to Jack the important duty of folding oneof her best damask tablecloths, a task which, under other circumstances,she would not have trusted to her most intimate friend. "I'm not veryhandy with children, but it seems as if I ought to be able to undressthis one."
"Of course you can. All there is to do is unbutton the things an' pullthem off."
Aunt Nancy was by no means as awkward at such work as she would have herguest believe.
In a few moments she had undressed Louis without awakening him, andclothed him for the night in one of her bedgowns, which, as a matter ofcourse, was much too long, but so strongly scented with lavender thatJack felt positive the child could not fail to sleep sweetly andsoundly.
Then laying him in the centre of a rest-inviting bed which was coveredwith the most intricate of patchwork quilts, in a room on theground-floor that overlooked the lane and the big oak-tree, they lefthim with a smile on his lips, as if the angels had already begun toweave dream-pictures for him.
Aunt Nancy led the way out through the "fore-room," and, that Jack mightsee the beauties it contained, she opened one of the shutters, allowingthe rays of the setting sun to fall upon the pictures of two of the deadand gone Curtis family, an impossible naval engagement colored in themost gorgeous style, two vases filled with alum-encrusted grasses, and ahuge crockery rooster with unbending feathers of every hue.
This last-named ornament particularly attracted Jack's attention, andduring fully five minutes he stood gazing at it in silent admiration,but without daring to ask if he could take the brilliantly painted birdin his hands.
"Handsome, isn't it?" Aunt Nancy asked, turning her head slowly fromside to side while she critically viewed the combination of colors muchas if she had never seen them before.
"Its perfectly splendid!"
"I'm glad you like it. I think a great deal of him; too much to allow alive rooster on the place crowing around when he can't. It was presentedto me in my girlhood days by a young gentleman whom every one thoughtwas destined to be an ornament in the world; but--"
Aunt Nancy paused. Her thoughts had gone trooping down the dusty avenuesof the past, and after waiting fully a moment Jack asked,--
"Where is the young gentleman now?"
"I don't know," was the reply sandwiched between two sobs, and then AuntNancy became her old self once more.
She closed the shutters carefully, waved her apron in the air tofrighten away any overbold dust specks, and the two went out on thelong, velvety lane that the little woman might admire the glories of thesetting sun.