Mrs. Tree Part 5

"There isn't any dog in the house," said Mrs. Tree, over the bal.u.s.ters, "and Deacon Weight is at Conference, and won't be back till the last of the week. That will do, Direxia; you mean well, but you are a ninnyhammer. This way!"

She twitched the reluctant arm that held hers, and they entered a small bedroom, hung with guns and rods.

"My grandson's room!" said Mrs. Tree. "He died here--hey?"

The stranger had dropped her arm and stood shaking, staring about him with wild eyes. The ancient woman laid her hand on his, and he started as at an electric shock.

"Come, w.i.l.l.y," she said, "lie down and rest."

He was at her feet now, half-crouching, half-kneeling, holding the hem of her satin gown in his shaking clutch, sobbing aloud, dry-eyed as yet.

"Come, w.i.l.l.y," she repeated, "lie down and rest on Arthur's bed. You are tired, boy."

"I came--" the shaking voice steadied itself into words, "I came--to rob you, Mrs. Tree."

"Why, so I supposed, Will; at least, I thought it likely. You can have all you want, without that--there's plenty for you and me. Folks call me close, and I like to do what I like with my own money. There's plenty, I tell you, for you and me and the bird. Do you think he knew you, w.i.l.l.y?

I believe he did."

"G.o.d knows! When--how did you know me, Mrs. Tree?"

"Get up, w.i.l.l.y Jaquith, and I'll tell you. Sit down; there's the chair you made together, when you were fifteen. Remember, hey? I knew your voice at the door, or I thought I did. Then when you wouldn't look at the bead puppy, I hadn't much doubt; and when I said 'Cat's foot!' and you laughed, I knew for sure. You've had a hard time, w.i.l.l.y, but you're the same boy."

"If you would not be kind," said the man, "I think it would be easier.

You ought to give me up, you know, and let me go to jail. I'm no good.

I'm a vagrant and a drunkard, and worse. But you won't, I know that; so now let me go. I'm not fit to stay in Arthur's room or lie on his bed.

Give me a little money, my dear old friend--yes, the parrot knew me!--and let me go!"

"Hark!" said the old woman.

She went to the door and listened. Her keen old face had grown wonderfully soft in the last hour, but now it sharpened and hardened to the likeness of a carved hickory-nut.

"Somebody at the door," she said, speaking low. "Malvina Weight."

She came back swiftly into the room. "That press is full of Arthur's clothes; take a bath and dress yourself, and rest awhile; then come down and talk to me. Yes, you will! _Do as I say!_ w.i.l.l.y Jaquith, if you try to leave this house, I'll set the parrot on you. Remember the day he bit you for stealing his apple, and served you right? There's the scar still on your cheek. Greatest wonder he didn't put your eyes out!"

She slipped out and closed the door after her; then stood at the head of the stairs, listening.

Mrs. Ephraim Weight, a ponderous woman with a chronic tremolo, was in the hall, a knitted shawl over her head and shoulders.

"I've waited 'most an hour to see that tramp come out," she was saying.

"Deacon's away, and I was scairt to death, but I'm a mother, and I had to come. How I had the courage I don't know, when I thought you and Mis'

Tree might meet my eyes both layin' dead in this entry. Where is he?

Don't you help or harbor him now, Direxia Hawkes! I saw his evil eye as he stood on the doorstep, and I knew by the way he peeked and peered that he was after no good. Where is he? I know he didn't go out. Hus.h.!.+

don't say a word! I'll slip out and round and get Hiram Sawyer. My boys is to singing-school, and it was a Special Ordering that I happened to look out of window just that moment of time. Where did you say he--"

"Oh, do let me speak, Mis' Weight!" broke in Direxia, in a shrill half-whisper. "Don't speak so loud! She'll hear ye, and she's in one of her takings, and I dono--lands sakes, I don't know what _to_ do! I dono who he is, or whence he comes, but she--"

"Direxia Hawkes!" barked Mrs. Tree from the head of the stairs.

"There! you hear her!" murmured Direxia. "Oh, she is the beat of all!

I'm comin', Mis' Tree!"

She fled up the stairs; her mistress, bending forward, darted a whispered arrow at her.

"Oh, my Solemn Deliverance!" cried Direxia Hawkes.

"Hot water, directly, and don't make a fool of yourself!" said Mrs.

Tree; and her stick tapped its way down-stairs.

"Good evening, Malvina. What can I do for you? Pray step in."

Mrs. Weight sidled into the parlor before a rather awful wave of the ebony stick, and sat down on the edge of a chair near the door. Mrs.

Tree crossed the room to her own high-backed armchair, took her seat deliberately, put her feet on the crimson ha.s.sock, and leaned forward, resting her hands on the crutch-top of her stick, and her chin on her hands. In this att.i.tude she looked more elfin than human, and the light that danced in her black eyes was not of a rea.s.suring nature.

"What can I do for you?" she repeated.

Mrs. Weight bridled, and spoke in a tone half-timid, half-defiant.

"I'm sure, Mis' Tree, it's not on my own account I come. I'm the last one to intrude, as any one in this village can tell you. But you are an anncient woman, and your neighbors are bound to protect you when need is. I see that tramp come in here with my own eyes, and he's here for no good."

"What tramp?" asked Mrs. Tree.

"Good land, Mis' Tree, didn't you see him? He slipped right in past Direxia. I see him with these eyes."

"When?"

"'Most an hour ago. I've been watching ever since. Don't tell me you didn't know about him bein' here, Mis' Tree, now don't."

"I won't," said Mrs. Tree, benevolently.

"He's hid away somewheres!" Mrs. Weight continued, with rising excitement. "Direxia Hawkes has hid him; he's an accomplish of hers.

You've always trusted that woman, Mis' Tree, but I tell you I've had my eye on her these ten years, and now I've found her out. She's hid him away somewheres, I tell you. There's cupboards and clusets enough in this house to hide a whole gang of cutthroats in--and when you're abed and asleep they'll have your life, them two, and run off with your worldly goods that you've thought so much of. Would have, that is, if I hadn't have had a Special Ordering to look out of winder. Oh, how thankful should I be that I kep' the use of my limbs, though I was scairt 'most to death, and am now."

"Yes, they might be useful to you," said Mrs. Tree, "to get home with, for instance. There, that will do, Malvina Weight. There is no tramp here. Your eyesight is failing; there were always weak eyes in your family. There's no tramp here, and there has been none."

"Mis' Tree! I tell you I see him with these--"

"Bah! don't talk to me!" Mrs. Tree blazed into sudden wrath. But next instant she straightened herself over her cane, and spoke quietly.

"Good night, Malvina. You mean well, and I bear no malice. I'm obliged to you for your good intentions. What you took for a tramp was a gentleman who has come to stay overnight with me. He's up-stairs now.

Did you lock your door when you came out? There _are_ tramps about, so I've heard, and if Ephraim is away--well, good night, if you must hurry.

Direxia, lock the door and put the chain up; and if anybody else calls to-night, set the bird on 'em."

CHAPTER V.