The Calico Cat

by Charles Miner Thompson

  Cat drinking from saucer.]

  VII

  When the grand jury dispersed after Mr. Peaslee's confession,Farnsworth, first speaking a few words to Paige, the state'sattorney, hurried toward the Union School. As he expected, hemet Miss Ware coming from it on her way to her boarding-house.

  He waved his hat, and called:--

  "Jim's free!"

  As he reached her side he added, "He didn't fire the shot at all."

  "Of course he didn't!" cried Nancy, triumphantly. "Didn't I tellyou? But who did, and how did you find out?"

  "Peaslee," said Farnsworth. "He owned up."

  "Mr. Peaslee! Then that awful harmonica--Why, the wretch!"

  "Sh!" warned Farnsworth. "Not so loud! These are jury-room secretswhich I'm not supposed to tell."

  But he told them, nevertheless. As the two walked along together,he gave her an account of all that had happened.

  "But what I don't understand," he concluded, "is what made Jimbehave so. What did he clean his gun for? Why did he hide the ragsand put away the ammunition? He acted just as if he were trying toshield some one. We know he wasn't trying to shield himself, and Idon't see why he should shield Peaslee."

  "Fred!" said Nancy, stopping and facing him. "Jim knew that hisfather was the only person in the house, didn't he?"

  "Yes," said Farnsworth.

  "Then he thought his father did it!"

  "O pshaw!" exclaimed Farnsworth. "He couldn't!"

  "Don't be rude, Fred!" admonished Nancy. "Wasn't I right before?Well, I'm right now. How could he have thought anything else? I'mgoing straight to the jail and find out. And can we get him awayfrom that jail?"

  "Yes," said Farnsworth. "I spoke to Paige. He said he'd bring theboy in and have him discharged this afternoon. He has to appearbefore the judge, you know, before he can be let go."

  "That's nice," said Nancy. "Now, Fred, you go straight to Mr.Edwards and bring him up there, too. I don't suppose any one'sthought to tell him."

  "But I haven't had any dinner," objected Farnsworth.

  "Dinner!" exclaimed Miss Ware, in deep scorn, and Farnsworth laughedand surrendered.

  They separated then. Miss Ware took the side street to the jail,while Farnsworth hurried along toward Edwards's house.

  "Mr. Edwards," he said, when that gentleman appeared at the door,"Miss Ware wants you right away at the jail," and as he spoke hewas struck with the strain which showed in the man's face. "He musthave felt it a good deal," he reflected, with surprise.

  A sudden fear showed in Mr. Edwards's eyes.

  "Jim isn't sick, is he?" he asked.

  "Oh, no!" replied Farnsworth, hastily. "He's cleared, that's all.We'll have him out of jail this afternoon."

  "Cleared?" repeated Mr. Edwards, distrustfully. Was Farnsworthjoking? Nothing was more certain in the father's mind than that Jimhad fired the shot. No other supposition was possible. His facegrew severe at the thought that Farnsworth was trifling with him.

  "Yes, cleared!" said the young man, somewhat nettled. "We haveabsolute, certain proof that Jim hadn't anything to do with it."

  "I should like to hear it," said Mr. Edwards, coldly.

  "Well, we have the real offender's own confession," said Farnsworth,irritated at the incredulity of the man. What was the fellow madeof?

  Mr. Edwards said nothing. He turned and got his hat, and walked withFarnsworth up the street the half-mile to the jail. His face wasimpassive, but his movements had a new alertness, and Farnsworthnoted that he had to walk painfully fast to keep up with this mucholder man.

  Edwards, in spite of his cold exterior, was a man of strong feeling,and there was, in fact, a deep joy and a deep regret at his heart.He knew with thankfulness that he had a truthful and courageous son.He saw with passionate self-reproach that he had done the boy agreat injustice. But why, why had Jim cleaned the gun?

  Farnsworth, little guessing the turmoil in the heart of the graveman by his side, was wondering if, after all, Miss Ware could beright in thinking that Jim had sacrificed himself for this unfeelingparent.

  "If she is right," he reflected, thinking how harsh had been thefather's treatment of the boy, "what a little brick Jim is!"

  He had a very human desire to present this view and prick thisautomaton into some show of life.

  "Mr. Edwards," he said suddenly, "Jim knew, didn't he, that you werethe only person besides himself at home?"

  "I suppose so."

  "Does it occur to you that he may have thought you did theshooting?"

  "That can't be so," said Mr. Edwards; but there was a note ofshocked concern, of dismay, in his tone which satisfied Farnsworth,and again he thought more kindly of his companion.

  And Mr. Edwards was stirred by the unexpected question. After all,he thought, since Jim was not trying to shield himself, whom elsecould he wish to shield? And a sudden deep enthusiasm filled him forthis son who was not only courageous and truthful, but who, inspite of his unjust treatment, was loyal, who--he thrilled at theword--loved him! But no, it was not possible! How could his son havethought that he could accuse his boy of what he had done himself?

  And upon this doubt, he found himself with a quickened pulse at thedoor of the jail. Farnsworth rang the bell. Soon they stood in Mrs.Calkins's sitting-room, facing Jim and Nancy. And then Miss Warecaught Farnsworth by the arm and drew him quickly into the hall, andshut the door behind her.

  "I'm certain!" she whispered, breathlessly. "When I told Jim first,he wasn't glad at all, until I managed to let him know his fatherwasn't arrested. O Fred, that boy's a little trump!"

  Meanwhile, in Mrs. Calkins's sitting-room, father and son faced eachother, and it would be hard to say which of the two was the moreembarrassed.

  But certain questions burned on Mr. Edwards's lips.

  "Jim," he said, with anxious emotion, "did you think that _I_ shotLamoury?"

  "Yes, sir," said Jim.

  "But why, my boy, why should I want to shoot him?"

  "Lamoury had been telling," said Jim, highly embarrassed.

  "Telling?" said his father, in perplexity.

  "Yes, sir," said Jim, "you know--about your being a--a smuggler."

  Much astonished, Mr. Edwards pushed his questions, and soon came toknow the depth and breadth of his boy's misconception.

  "Then," he said finally, "when I accused you of having fired theshot, you thought I had to do so to avoid an arrest which would beserious for me. Is that it?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Mr. Edwards could not speak for a moment for emotion. Then he drewthe boy to him.

  "My son, my son," he said, "you and I must know each other better."

  And by the same token, Jim realized that his father was proud of himand loved him. It was new and sweet. He felt a little foolish, butvery happy.

  "Jim," his father said huskily, "would you like a newbreech-loader?"

  And then Jim was happier still.

  * * * * *

  Those were reluctant feet which dragged Mr. Peaslee the next morningto the jury-room. The counsel of the night had brought no comfort,and when he came among his fellows their constraint and silence werefar from reassuring. Nor, when the sitting had begun, did he likethe enigmatic smile with which the well-dressed Paige stood andswung his watch-chain. How he distrusted and feared this smug,self-complacent young man! Yet the state's attorney's first wordsbrought him unexpected comfort.

  "Mr. Lamoury," he said, still with that puzzling smile, "hasconsented, in spite of his serious physical condition, to appearbefore you."

  Lamoury could not be so badly hurt if he could come to the courthouse! But what was this? While the state's attorney held wide thedoor, Jake Hibbard solemnly pushed into the room a great wheeledchair, in which sat the small, wiry, furtive-eyed Lamoury.

  Mr. Peaslee's heart sank as he saw the wheeled chair, and noted thegreat bandages about the Frenchman's head and arm. He listenedapprehensively to the loud complaint of cruelty to his client whichHib
bard continued to make, until Paige, pulling the chair into theroom, blandly shut the door in his face. Mr. Peaslee heaved a greatsigh of mingled contrition and fear. This wreck was his work; hewould be punished for it.

  "Mr. Lamoury," Paige began courteously, "we so wished to get yourversion of this painful affair that, though we are sorry to causeyou any discomfort, we have felt obliged to bring you here. Will youkindly tell the gentlemen of the grand jury what happened?"

  "Yes, seh, me, Ah'll tol' heem!" said Lamoury, eagerly.

  Confident that no one knew anything about what had happened exceptJim Edwards and himself, he intended to make his narrativestriking.

  "Yes, seh, Ah'll tol' de trut'. Well, seh, Ah'll be goin' t'roughM'sieu' Edwards's horchard--walkin' t'rough same as any mans. Den Ilook, han' I see dat leetly boy in de windy, a-shoutin' anda-cussin' lak he gone crazee in hees head. Ah tol' you Ah feel badfor hear dat leetly boy cussin'. Dat was too shame."

  And Lamoury paused to let this beautiful sentiment impress itselfupon the jurors. Mr. Peaslee listened with profound astonishment.

  "Den he holler somet'ing Ah ain't hear, honly 'Canuck,' han' Ahbegins for get my mads up. Ah hain't do heem no harm, _hein_? Den hefire hees gun,--poom!--an' more as twenty--prob'ly ten shot-buckheet me on the head of it!"

  Buckshot! "Them's the marble," thought Mr. Peaslee, "but therewasn't but one!"

  "Ah tol' you dey steeng lak bumbletybees. Ah t'ink me, dat weekedleetly boy goin' for shoot more as once prob'ly--mebbe two, t'reetam. Ah drop queek in de grass, an' Ah run--run queek! An' when Ahget home, Ah find two, t'ree, five, mebbe four hole in mah arm morebeeg as mah t'umb."

  Pete stopped dramatically; his little sparkling black eyes traveledquickly from one face to another to note the effect he had made. Mr.Peaslee's spirits were rising; the grand jury could not believe sucha "passel of lies"--only, only was one of those holes "beeg as maht'umb" made, perchance, by a marble?

  "That's a mighty moving narrative," commented Sampson, dryly. "Did Iunderstand you to say that you were hit in the head or the arm?"

  "Bose of it," averred Pete, without winking.

  "I didn't shoot any bag of marbles," whispered Mr. Peaslee to hisneighbor, who nodded. That he had the courage to address a remark toany one shows how his spirits were rising.

  "You said you were going along the short cut through Mr. Edwards'sorchard, didn't you?" the state's attorney now asked.

  "Yes, seh," said Pete.

  Paige stepped to a big blackboard, which he had had set up at theend of the room, and rapidly sketched a plan of the Edwards' lot,with the aid of a memorandum of measurements which he had secured.A line across the upper left-hand corner represented the pathcommonly used by the neighbors in going through the Edwards'sorchard.

  "Now, Mr. Lamoury," resumed Paige, "I don't quite understand how, ifyou were on the path there, you could have seen young Edwards, or heyou. The barn seems to be in the way until just at the right-handend, and when you get to that, you'd have to look through about tenrows of apple-trees. Now weren't you a little off the line?"

  "Dame!" exclaimed Pete, ingenuously. "Ah'll was got for be, sinceAh was shoot, ain't it? Ah'll can't remembler."

  "Mr. Edwards told us," continued Paige, while Solomon's heart warmedto him, "that he saw you fall out of some bushes. Now these are theonly bushes there are," and he rapidly indicated on the board therows of currant bushes, the asparagus, the sunflowers, and thelilacs which lined the garden on its right-hand corner. "That's agood way from the path."

  "Ah'll be there, me!" cried Pete, in indignant alarm. "No, seh!M'sieu' Edwards say dat? Respect_a_ble mans lak M'sieu' Edwards! Itwas shame for lie so. No, seh! Ah go home t'rough de horchard. MebbeAh'll go leetly ways off de path of it,--mebbe for peek up appleoff'n de groun' what no one ain't want for rot of it,--Ah'll don'tremembler. But I ain't go for hide in de bush! Ah'll be honest mans,me. Ah'll go for walk where all mans can see, ain't it? What Ah'llgo hide for, me?"

  Paige drew a square on Mr. Peaslee's side of the fence, directlyopposite the bushes.

  "That," said he, "is Mr. Peaslee's hen-house," and he brushed thechalk from his fingers with an air of indifference.

  "So-o?" cried Pete, with an air of pleased surprise. "M'sieu'Peaslee he'll got hen-rouse? First tam Ah'll was heard of it, me.Fine t'ing for have hen-rouse, fine t'ing for M'sieu' Peaslee. Ah'llt'ink heem for be lucky, M'sieu' Peaslee. But Ah'll ain't know it.Ah'll ain't see nossin' of it, no, seh!" and Pete smiled innocentlyround at the enigmatic faces of the jurymen.

  "Mr. Lamoury," said Paige, with a very casual air, "behind thosebushes is a broken board."

  "So-o?" said Pete.

  "Any one who was there had an excellent chance to study thefastenings of Mr. Peaslee's hen-house door."

  "_Mais_, Ah'll was tol' you Ah'll not be dere, me!" cried Pete,alarmed and excited.

  "That," said Mr. Paige, calmly, "is the only place where you couldbe and get shot from the boy's window. Either you were there or youweren't shot. Besides, Mr. Edwards found your foot-prints."

  Pete shrunk his head into his shoulders and glared questioningly atthe state's attorney. The examination was not going to his liking.

  "What Ah'll care for dat?" he said at last.

  "Oh, nothing," said Paige, "nothing at all. Let us talk of somethingelse. Let me ask why Mr. Edwards discharged you from his employ lastspring?"

  "Nossing! Nossing! Ah'll be work for heem more good as never was."

  "If he treated you as unjustly as that," said Paige, with sympathy,"you cannot have a very high opinion of Mr. Edwards."

  "Ah'll tol' you he was bad mans. He'll discharge me more as seextymile off. Ah'll have for walk, me. Ah'll tol' you dat was meantreek for play on poor mans."

  And Pete sought sympathy from the faces about him.

  "That was too bad, certainly," said Paige. "Now about those woundsof yours. I have Doctor Brigham here, ready to make an examination.I'll call him now," and the state's attorney started toward the doorof the witness-room.

  Pete jumped.

  "_Hein!_" he exclaimed.

  "You don't object to having an excellent doctor like Doctor Brighamlook at your wounds, do you?" asked Paige.

  Now Lamoury had no wounds to show. The smiling, well-dressed Paige,standing there and looking at him with amused comprehension, wasmore than he could bear. Pete suddenly lost his temper, never toosecure. Out of his wheeled chair he jumped, and shaking his fist inPaige's face, he shouted:--

  "T'ink you be smart, very smart mans! Well, Ah'll tol' you youain't. Ah'll tol' you you be a great beeg peeg! Ah'll tol' you datEdwards boy, he shoot at me. I see heem. 'T ain't my fault of it ifhe not hit me, _hein_? You be peeg! You be all peegs--every one!"and Pete, making a wide, inclusive gesture, shouted, "I care notmore as one cent for de whole keet and caboodle of it! Peeg, peeg,peeg!"

  And turning on his heel, the wrathful Frenchman left the room. Heleft also a convulsed jury and a wheeled chair, for the hire ofwhich Hibbard found himself later obliged to pay.

  Mr. Peaslee, the thermometer of whose spirits had been risingsteadily, joined in the laughter which followed the exit of thediscomfited Pete.

  "Terrible smart feller, Paige, ain't he?" said he to Albion Small."Did him up real slick, didn't he?" The delighted Solomon had quiteforgotten his dislike for the citified Paige.

  Of course the grand jury promptly abandoned the inquiry. The factwas now obvious that the vengeful Lamoury, aided by the unscrupulousHibbard, had merely hoped to be bought off by Mr. Edwards, and hadbeen disappointed.

  "The case," said Paige, "would never have come to trial. If Edwardshad persisted, and let his boy go to court, they'd have had to stop.They must have been a good deal disappointed when he refused bail;they probably thought he'd never let the boy pass a night in HotelCalkins."

  * * * * *

  Mr. Peaslee walked home sobered but relieved. The loss of publicesteem which had come to him through his foolish adventure, theserio
us wrong which he had inflicted upon Jim Edwards, the disgustof his wife were all things to chasten a man's spirit; but on theother hand, Jim was now out of jail, Lamoury had not been hurt inthe least, and he himself had not been complained of or arrested. Ifhe should have to endure some chaffing from Jim Bartlett and SiSpooner, his cronies at the bank, he "guessed he could stand it."On the whole, he was moderately happy.

  The sun was low in the west, and the trees were casting long shadowsacross his yard, brightly spattered with the red and yellow ofautumnal leaves. His house, white and neat and comfortable, seemedbasking like some still, somnolent animal in the warm sunshine.

  Solomon turned, and cast his eye down the road and over the RandomRiver, flowing smooth and peaceful through its great ox-bow. Herecognized Dannie Snow, scuffling through the dust with his barefeet, as he drove home his father's great, placid, full-udderedcow. The comfort of the scene, the cosy pleasantness of the placeamong the close-coming hills, struck him, in his relieved mood, asit had never done before. Even though disappointed in politicalambition, a man might live there in some content.

  After all, he had thirty thousand dollars, and it had been calmlydrawing interest through all his tribulations.

  Consoled by this reflection, he walked to the rear of his house andbegan pottering about the chicken yard. Then in the Edwards gardenappeared Jim. Solomon gave a slight start, and took a hesitatingstep or two, as if minded to flee, but restrained by shame. Hewatched the boy come to the fence, and climb upon it. He saidnothing; he could not think of anything to say.

  "That harmonica was fine!" said Jim, grinning amiably.

  Mr. Peaslee was immensely relieved. If there was a momentary twingeat the thought of the money it had cost him, it was quickly gone.

  "Glad ye enjoyed it. Seem 's though I wanted to give ye a littlesuthin'--considerin'. I hope you and your father ain't ones to layit up agin me."

  "That's all right," said Jim, grandly. "I had a bully time at thejail. Mrs. Calkins is a splendid woman. You just ought to eat one ofher doughnuts!"

  "Didn't know they fed ye up much to the jail," commented Solomon,puzzled.

  "Oh, I wasn't locked up," said Jim, and explained.

  "Well, well, I'm beat! That was clever on 'em, wa'n't it now?" saidMr. Peaslee, much pleased.

  "And father ain't holding any grudge, either," said Jim. "He sayshe's much obliged to you"--a remark which the reader willunderstand better than Mr. Peaslee ever did.

  "You listen when you're eating your supper!" cried Jim, as heclimbed down from the fence and ran toward the house. "I'm going toplay on that harmonica!"

  And Solomon rejoiced. Poor man, he did not know how the popularityof his gift was destined to endure; he did not know that he had letloose upon the circumambient air sounds worse than any ever emittedby the Calico Cat.

  Filled with the pleasant sense of having "made it up" with the boywhom he thought he had so greatly injured, Solomon started alongthe path toward the kitchen door. He began to realize that he had anappetite--something now long unfamiliar to him. As he drew near, anappetizing odor smote his nostrils.

  "Eyesters, I swanny!" he ejaculated.

  It was unheard of! There was nothing which Solomon, who had a keenrelish for good things to eat, and would even have been extravagantin this one particular had his firm-willed wife permitted, enjoyedmore than an oyster stew, or which he had a chance to taste lessoften. Oysters could be had in town for sixty cents a quart, asum that seems not large; but in Mrs. Peaslee's mind they wereassociated with the elegance and luxury of church "sociables,"and with the dissipation of supper after country dances. Theywere extravagant food. Solomon could not believe his nose.

  He entered the door, and there upon the table stood the big tureen,with two soup plates at Mrs. Peaslee's place. There was nothing elsebut the stew, of course, but it lent a gala air to the wholekitchen.

  "Why, Sarepty, Sarepty!" he said to his wife.

  "You goin' to be arrested?" asked Mrs. Peaslee, sharply. She wantedno sentiment over her unwonted generosity; but, truth to tell, whenshe had seen Solomon depart that morning, and realized that he mightbe going to arrest, possibly to trial, perhaps to conviction and tojail, she had felt a sudden fright, a sudden sympathy for herhusband, and she had bought half a pint of oysters for a stew--inspite of expense.

  "No, I ain't going to be arrested," said Solomon, with satisfaction."The grand jury found there wa'n't anythin' to it; but--but,Sarepty--"

  He paused helplessly, unable to express his complex feelings aboutthe stew, and the attitude on the part of his wife which itrevealed.

  "Oh, well," said his wife, "after all, 't ain't 's if you'd gone andlost money."

  And after supper Mr. Peaslee carefully poured some skimmed milk intoa saucer and went out to the barn.

  "Kitty, kitty!" he called. "Kitty, come, kitty!"

  The Calico Cat did not respond. But in the morning the saucerwas empty.

  +------------------------------------------+|Transcriber's Note || ||The cover illustration referred to in the ||Author's Note at the beginning of this ||book was not available for this electronic||version of the text. |+------------------------------------------+