Jack and Jill

by Louisa May Alcott

  Chapter XIII. Jack Has a Mystery

  "What is the matter? Does your head ache?" asked Jill, one evening inMarch, observing that Jack sat with his head in his hands, an attitudewhich, with him, meant either pain or perplexity.

  "No; but I'm bothered. I want some money, and I don't see how I can earnit," he answered, tumbling his hair about, and frowning darkly at thefire.

  "How much?" and Jill's ready hand went to the pocket where her littlepurse lay, for she felt rich with several presents lately made her.

  "Two seventy-five. No, thank you, I won't borrow."

  "What is it for?"

  "Can't tell."

  "Why, I thought you told me everything."

  "Sorry, but I can't this time. Don't you worry; I shall think ofsomething."

  "Couldn't your mother help?"

  "Don't wish to ask her."

  "Why! can't _she_ know?"

  "Nobody can."

  "How queer! Is it a scrape, Jack?" asked Jill, looking as curious as amagpie.

  "It is likely to be, if I can't get out of it this week, somehow."

  "Well, I don't see how I can help if I'm not to know anything;" and Jillseemed rather hurt.

  "You can just stop asking questions, and tell me how a fellow can earnsome money. That would help. I've got one dollar, but I must have somemore;" and Jack looked worried as he fingered the little gold dollar onhis watch-guard.

  "Oh, do you mean to use that?"

  "Yes, I do; a man must pay his debts if he sells all he has to do it,"said Jack sternly.

  "Dear me; it must be something very serious." And Jill lay quite stillfor five minutes, thinking over all the ways in which Jack ever did earnmoney, for Mrs. Minot liked to have her boys work, and paid them in someway for all they did.

  "Is there any wood to saw?" she asked presently, being very anxious tohelp.

  "All done."

  "Paths to shovel?"

  "No snow."

  "Lawn to rake, then?"

  "Not time for that yet."

  "Catalogue of books?"

  "Frank got that job."

  "Copy those letters for your mother?"

  "Take me too long. Must have my money Friday, if possible."

  "I don't see what we can do, then. It is too early or too late foreverything, and you won't borrow."

  "Not of you. No, nor of any one else, if I can possibly help it. I'vepromised to do this myself, and I will;" and Jack wagged his headresolutely.

  "Couldn't you do something with the printing-press? Do me some cards,and then, perhaps, the other girls will want some," said Jill, as aforlorn hope.

  "Just the thing! What a goose I was not to think of it. I'll rig the oldmachine up at once." And, starting from his seat, Jack dived into thebig closet, dragged out the little press, and fell to oiling, dusting,and putting it in order, like one relieved of a great anxiety.

  "Give me the types; I'll sort them and set up my name, so you can beginas soon as you are ready. You know what a help I was when we did theprogrammes. I'm almost sure the girls _will_ want cards, and I knowyour mother would like some more tags," said Jill, briskly rattling theletters into the different compartments, while Jack inked the rollersand hunted up his big apron, whistling the while with recovered spirits.

  A dozen neat cards were soon printed, and Jill insisted on paying sixcents for them, as earning was not borrowing. A few odd tags were foundand done for Mamma, who immediately ordered four dozen at six cents adozen, though she was not told why there was such a pressing call formoney.

  Jack's monthly half-dollar had been spent the first week,--twenty-fivecents for a concert, ten paid a fine for keeping a book too long fromthe library, ten more to have his knife ground, and five in candy, forhe dearly loved sweeties, and was under bonds to Mamma not to spendmore than five cents a month on these unwholesome temptations. She neverasked the boys what they did with their money, but expected them tokeep account in the little books she gave them; and, now and then, theyshowed the neat pages with pardonable pride, though she often laughed atthe queer items.

  All that evening Jack & Co. worked busily, for when Frank came in hegood-naturedly ordered some pale-pink cards for Annette, and ran to thestore to choose the right shade, and buy some packages for the youngprinter also.

  "What _do_ you suppose he is in such a pucker for?" whispered Jill, asshe set up the new name, to Frank, who sat close by, with one eye on hisbook and one on her.

  "Oh, some notion. He's a queer chap; but I guess it isn't much of ascrape, or I should know it. He's so good-natured he's always promisingto do things for people, and has too much pluck to give up when he findshe can't. Let him alone, and it will all come out soon enough," answeredFrank, who laughed at his brother, but loved him none the less for thetender heart that often got the better of his young head.

  But for once Frank was mistaken; the mystery did not come out, and Jackworked like a beaver all that week, as orders poured in when Jill andAnnette showed their elegant cards; for, as everybody knows, if one girlhas a new thing all the rest must, whether it is a bow on the top ofher head, a peculiar sort of pencil, or the latest kind of chewing-gum.Little play did the poor fellow get, for every spare minute was spentat the press, and no invitation could tempt him away, so much in earnestwas our honest little Franklin about paying his debt. Jill helped allshe could, and cheered his labors with her encouragement, rememberinghow he stayed at home for her.

  "It is real good of you to lend a hand, and I'm ever so much obliged,"said Jack, as the last order was struck off, and the drawer of thetype-box held a pile of shining five and ten cent pieces, with two orthree quarters.

  "I love to; only it would be nicer if I knew what we were working for,"she said demurely, as she scattered type for the last time; and seeingthat Jack was both tired and grateful, hoped to get a hint of thesecret.

  "I want to tell you, dreadfully; but I can't, because I've promised."

  "What, never?"

  "Never!" and Jack looked as firm as a rock.

  "Then I shall find out, for _I_ haven't promised."

  "You can't."

  "See if I don't!"

  "You are sharp, but you won't guess this. It's a tremendous secret, andnobody will tell it."

  "You'll tell it yourself. You always do."

  "I won't tell this. It would be mean."

  "Wait and see; I can get anything out of you if I try;" and Jilllaughed, knowing her power well, for Jack found it very hard to keep asecret from her.

  "Don't try; please don't! It wouldn't be right, and you don't want tomake me do a dishonorable thing for your sake, I know."

  Jack looked so distressed that Jill promised not to _make_ him tell,though she held herself free to find out in other ways, if she could.

  Thus relieved, Jack trudged off to school on Friday with the two dollarsand seventy-five cents jingling in his pocket, though the dear gold coinhad to be sacrificed to make up the sum. He did his lessons badly thatday, was late at recess in the afternoon, and, as soon as school wasover, departed in his rubber boots "to take a walk," he said, though theroads were in a bad state with a spring thaw. Nothing was seen of himtill after tea-time, when he came limping in, very dirty and tired,but with a reposeful expression, which betrayed that a load was off hismind. Frank was busy about his own affairs and paid little attention tohim, but Jill was on tenter-hooks to know where he had been, yet darednot ask the question.

  "Merry's brother wants some cards. He liked hers so much he wishes tomake his lady-love a present. Here's the name;" and Jill held up theorder from Harry Grant, who was to be married in the autumn.

  "Must wait till next week. I'm too tired to do a thing to-night, and Ihate the sight of that old press," answered Jack, laying himself downupon the rug as if every joint ached.

  "What made you take such a long walk? You look as tired as if you'd beenten miles," said Jill, hoping to discover the length of the trip.

  "Had to. Four or five miles isn't much, only my leg both
ered me;" andJack gave the ailing member a slap, as if he had found it much in hisway that day; for, though he had given up the crutches long ago, herather missed their support sometimes. Then, with a great yawn, hestretched himself out to bask in the blaze, pillowing his head on hisarms.

  "Dear old thing, he looks all used up; I won't plague him with talking;"and Jill began to sing, as she often did in the twilight.

  By the time the first song ended a gentle snore was heard, and Jack layfast asleep, worn out with the busy week and the walk, which had beenlonger and harder than any one guessed. Jill took up her knitting andworked quietly by firelight, still wondering and guessing what thesecret could be; for she had not much to amuse her, and little thingswere very interesting if connected with her friends. Presently Jackrolled over and began to mutter in his sleep, as he often did when tooweary for sound slumber. Jill paid no attention till he uttered a namewhich made her prick up her ears and listen to the broken sentenceswhich followed. Only a few words, but she dropped her work, saying toherself,--

  "I do believe he is talking about the secret. Now I shall find out, andhe _will_ tell me himself, as I said he would."

  Much pleased, she leaned and listened, but could make no sense of theconfused babble about "heavy boots;" "All right, old fellow;" "Jerry'soff;" and "The ink is too thick."

  The slam of the front door woke Jack, and he pulled himself up,declaring that he believed he had been having a nap.

  "I wish you'd have another," said Jill, greatly disappointed at the lossof the intelligence she seemed to be so near getting.

  "Floor is too hard for tired bones. Guess I'll go to bed and get restedup for Monday. I've worked like fury this week, so next I'm going in forfun;" and, little dreaming what hard times were in store for him, Jackwent off to enjoy his warm bath and welcome bed, where he was soonsleeping with the serene look of one whose dreams were happy, whoseconscience was at rest.

  * * * * *

  "I have a few words to say to you before you go," said Mr. Acton,pausing with his hand on the bell, Monday afternoon, when the hour camefor dismissing school.

  The bustle of putting away books and preparing for as rapid a departureas propriety allowed, subsided suddenly, and the boys and girls sat asstill as mice, while the hearts of such as had been guilty of any smallsins began to beat fast.

  "You remember that we had some trouble last winter about keeping theboys away from the saloon, and that a rule was made forbidding anypupil to go to town during recess?" began Mr. Acton, who, being aconscientious man as well as an excellent teacher, felt that he wasresponsible for the children in school hours, and did his best to aidparents in guarding them from the few temptations which beset them ina country town. A certain attractive little shop, where confectionery,baseballs, stationery, and picture papers were sold, was a favoriteloafing place for some of the boys till the rule forbidding it was made,because in the rear of the shop was a beer and billiard saloon. A wiserule, for the picture papers were not always of the best sort; cigarswere to be had; idle fellows hung about there, and some of the lads, whowanted to be thought manly, ventured to pass the green baize door "justto look on."

  A murmur answered the teacher's question, and he continued, "You allknow that the rule was broken several times, and I told you the nextoffender would be publicly reprimanded, as private punishments had noeffect. I am sorry to say that the time has come, and the offender is aboy whom I trusted entirely. It grieves me to do this, but I must keepmy promise, and hope the example will have a good effect."

  Mr. Acton paused, as if he found it hard to go on, and the boys lookedat one another with inquiring eyes, for their teacher seldom punished,and when he did, it was a very solemn thing. Several of these anxiousglances fell upon Joe, who was very red and sat whittling a pencil as ifhe dared not lift his eyes.

  "He's the chap. Won't he catch it?" whispered Gus to Frank, for bothowed him a grudge.

  "The boy who broke the rule last Friday, at afternoon recess, will cometo the desk," said Mr. Acton in his most impressive manner.

  If a thunderbolt had fallen through the roof it would hardly have causeda greater surprise than the sight of Jack Minot walking slowly down theaisle, with a wrathful flash in the eyes he turned on Joe as he passedhim.

  "Now, Minot, let us have this over as soon as possible, for I do notlike it any better than you do, and I am sure there is some mistake. I'mtold you went to the shop on Friday. Is it true?" asked Mr. Acton verygently, for he liked Jack and seldom had to correct him in any way.

  "Yes, sir;" and Jack looked up as if proud to show that he was notafraid to tell the truth as far as he could.

  "To buy something?"

  "No, sir."

  "To meet someone?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Was it Jerry Shannon?"

  No answer, but Jack's fists doubled up of themselves as he shot anotherfiery glance at Joe, whose face burned as if it scorched him.

  "I am told it was; also that you were seen to go into the saloon withhim. Did you?" and Mr. Acton looked so sure that it was a mistake thatit cost Jack a great effort to say, slowly,--

  "Yes, sir."

  Quite a thrill pervaded the school at this confession, for Jerry was oneof the wild fellows the boys all shunned, and to have any dealings withhim was considered a very disgraceful thing.

  "Did you play?"

  "No, sir. I can't."

  "Drink beer?"

  "I belong to the Lodge;" and Jack stood as erect as any little soldierwho ever marched under a temperance banner, and fought for the causenone are too young nor too old to help along.

  "I was sure of that. Then what took you there, my boy?"

  The question was so kindly put that Jack forgot himself an instant, andblurted out,--

  "I only went to pay him some money, sir."

  "Ah, how much?"

  "Two seventy-five," muttered Jack, as red as a cherry at not being ableto keep a secret better.

  "Too much for a lad like you to owe such a fellow as Jerry. How cameit?" And Mr. Acton looked disturbed.

  Jack opened his lips to speak, but shut them again, and stood lookingdown with a little quiver about the mouth that showed how much it costhim to be silent.

  "Does any one beside Jerry know of this?"

  "One other fellow," after a pause.

  "Yes, I understand;" and Mr. Acton's eye glanced at Joe with a look thatseemed to say, "I wish he'd held his tongue."

  A queer smile flitted over Jack's face, for Joe was not the "otherfellow," and knew very little about it, excepting what he had seen whenhe was sent on an errand by Mr. Acton on Friday.

  "I wish you would explain the matter, John, for I am sure it is betterthan it seems, and it would be very hard to punish you when you don'tdeserve it."

  "But I do deserve it; I've broken the rule, and I ought to be punished,"said Jack, as if a good whipping would be easier to bear than thispublic cross-examination.

  "And you can't explain, or even say you are sorry or ashamed?" asked Mr.Acton, hoping to surprise another fact out of the boy.

  "No, sir; I can't; I'm not ashamed; I'm not sorry, and I'd do it againto-morrow if I had to," cried Jack, losing patience, and looking as ifhe would not bear much more.

  A groan from the boys greeted this bare-faced declaration, and Susyquite shivered at the idea of having taken two bites out of the apple ofsuch a hardened desperado.

  "Think it over till to-morrow, and perhaps you will change your mind.Remember that this is the last week of the month, and reports aregiven out next Friday," said Mr. Acton, knowing how much the boy pridedhimself on always having good ones to show his mother.

  Poor Jack turned scarlet and bit his lips to keep them still, for he hadforgotten this when he plunged into the affair which was likely to costhim dear. Then the color faded away, the boyish face grew steady, andthe honest eyes looked up at his teacher as he said very low, but allheard him, the room was so still,--

  "It isn't as
bad as it looks, sir, but I can't say any more. No one isto blame but me; and I couldn't help breaking the rule, for Jerry wasgoing away, I had only that time, and I'd promised to pay up, so I did."

  Mr. Acton believed every word he said, and regretted that they had notbeen able to have it out privately, but he, too, must keep his promiseand punish the offender, whoever he was.

  "Very well, you will lose your recess for a week, and this month'sreport will be the first one in which behavior does not get the highestmark. You may go; and I wish it understood that Master Minot is not tobe troubled with questions till he chooses to set this matter right."

  Then the bell rang, the children trooped out, Mr. Acton went off withoutanother word, and Jack was left alone to put up his books and hide afew tears that would come because Frank turned his eyes away from theimploring look cast upon him as the culprit came down from the platform,a disgraced boy.

  Elder brothers are apt to be a little hard on younger ones, so it is notsurprising that Frank, who was an eminently proper boy, was much cut upwhen Jack publicly confessed to dealings with Jerry, leaving it to besupposed that the worst half of the story remained untold. He felt ithis duty, therefore, to collar poor Jack when he came out, and talk tohim all the way home, like a judge bent on getting at the truth by mainforce. A kind word would have been very comforting, but the scoldingwas too much for Jack's temper, so he turned dogged and would not say aword, though Frank threatened not to speak to him for a week.

  At tea-time both boys were very silent, one looking grim, the otherexcited. Frank stared sternly at his brother across the table, and noamount of marmalade sweetened or softened that reproachful look. Jackdefiantly crunched his toast, with occasional slashes at the butter,as if he must vent the pent-up emotions which half distracted him. Ofcourse, their mother saw that something was amiss, but did not allude toit, hoping that the cloud would blow over as so many did if left alone.But this one did not, and when both refused cake, this sure sign ofunusual perturbation made her anxious to know the cause. As soon as teawas over, Jack retired with gloomy dignity to his own room, and Frank,casting away the paper he had been pretending to read, burst out withthe whole story. Mrs. Minot was as much surprised as he, but not angry,because, like most mothers, she was sure that her sons could not doanything very bad.

  "I will speak to him; my boy won't refuse to give _me_ someexplanation," she said, when Frank had freed his mind with as muchwarmth as if Jack had broken all the ten commandments.

  "He will. You often call me obstinate, but he is as pig-headed as amule; Joe only knows what he saw, old tell-tale! and Jerry has lefttown, or I'd have it out of him. Make Jack own up, whether he can ornot. Little donkey!" stormed Frank, who hated rowdies and could notforgive his brother for being seen with one.

  "My dear, all boys do foolish things sometimes, even the wisest and bestbehaved, so don't be hard on the poor child. He has got into trouble,I've no doubt, but it cannot be very bad, and he earned the money to payfor his prank, whatever it was."

  Mrs. Minot left the room as she spoke, and Frank cooled down as if herwords had been a shower-bath, for he remembered his own costly escapade,and how kindly both his mother and Jack had stood by him on that tryingoccasion. So, feeling rather remorseful, he went off to talk it overwith Gus, leaving Jill in a fever of curiosity, for Merry and Mollyhad dropped in on their way home to break the blow to her, and Frankdeclined to discuss it with her, after mildly stating that Jack was "aninny," in his opinion.

  "Well, I know one thing," said Jill confidentially to Snow-ball, whenthey were left alone together, "if every one else is scolding him Iwon't say a word. It's so mean to crow over people when they are down,and I'm sure he hasn't done anything to be ashamed of, though he won'ttell."

  Snow-ball seemed to agree to this, for he went and sat down by Jack'sslippers waiting for him on the hearth, and Jill thought that a verytouching proof of affectionate fidelity to the little master who ruledthem both.

  When he came, it was evident that he had found it harder to refuse hismother than all the rest. But she trusted him in spite of appearances,and that was such a comfort! For poor Jack's heart was very full, and helonged to tell the whole story, but he would not break his promise,and so kept silence bravely. Jill asked no questions, affecting to beanxious for the games they always played together in the evening, butwhile they played, though the lips were sealed, the bright eyes said asplainly as words, "I trust you," and Jack was very grateful.

  It was well he had something to cheer him up at home, for he got littlepeace at school. He bore the grave looks of Mr. Acton meekly, took theboys' jokes good-naturedly, and withstood the artful teasing of thegirls with patient silence. But it was very hard for the social,affectionate fellow to bear the general distrust, for he had been such afavorite he felt the change keenly.

  But the thing that tried him most was the knowledge that his reportwould not be what it usually was. It was always a happy moment when heshowed it to his mother, and saw her eye brighten as it fell on the 99or 100, for she cared more for good behavior than for perfect lessons.Mr. Acton once said that Frank Minot's moral influence in the school wasunusual, and Jack never forgot her pride and delight as she told themwhat Frank himself had not known till then. It was Jack's ambition tohave the same said of him, for he was not much of a scholar, and hehad tried hard since he went back to school to get good records in thatrespect at least. Now here was a dreadful downfall, tardy marks, badcompany, broken rules, and something too wrong to tell, apparently.

  "Well, I deserve a good report, and that's a comfort, though nobodybelieves it," he said to himself, trying to keep up his spirits, as theslow week went by, and no word from him had cleared up the mystery.