Jack the Hunchback Part 10

He did not remove his hat, but stood in the centre of the floor, whip in hand, as he said,--

"Mornin' ma'am, mornin'. I'm from Scarborough, an' my name is Nathan Pratt. P'rhaps you've heard of me."

Aunt Nancy was about to say she never had, meaning that her neighbors never had spoken of him as a person of importance; but she checked herself on remembering this would be a falsehood because of what Jack had said.

"I have heard the name," she replied faintly.

"I thought so, I thought so. I've lived, man an' boy, in Scarborough for nigh on to fifty years, an' when that's been done without givin'

anybody a chance to say a word agin me, except that I want my own, as other folks do, then it would be kinder strange if I wasn't known within a dozen miles of home."

"Was that all you came here to say?" Aunt Nancy asked.

"Of course not,--of course not"; and the farmer seated himself without waiting for an invitation. "The fact of the matter is, ma'am, I'm huntin' for a couple of children what drifted ash.o.r.e on my place the other day. One of 'em was a hunchback, an' I must say he is bad, for after eatin' all the food in my house that he an' the young one wanted, he run away, leavin' me in the lurch."

"I don't suppose they stole it, did they?" and Aunt Nancy spoke very sharply, for it made her angry to hear such things said about Jack.

"No, it wasn't exactly that," and the farmer hesitated, as if to give her the impression something equally wrong had been done by the boy; "but as a citizen of the town I don't want it said we let a couple of youngsters run around loose like calves."

"What do you intend to do with them?" the little woman asked severely.

Farmer Pratt had no idea of telling a secret which he believed would be worth at least an hundred dollars to him, and by keeping it he again defeated himself.

"They oughter be carried to the poor farm till we can find out who owns 'em. You see I'm as big a tax-payer as there is in Scarborough, an' if any other town takes care of the children, we're likely to be sued for the cost of keepin'. Now I don't believe in goin' to law, for it's dreadful expensive, so I've come out to save myself an' my neighbors what little money I can."

If Farmer Pratt had told the truth, Aunt Nancy would have done all in her power to aid him, and Jack could not but have rejoiced, although the farmer received a rich reward; but by announcing what was a false proposition, he aroused the little woman's wrath.

She no longer remembered that it was wrong even to act a lie, and thought only of the possibility that those whom she had learned to love were really to be taken to the refuge for paupers, if her visitor should be so fortunate as to find them.

"It seems hard to put children in such a place," she said, with an effort to appear calm.

"That's only prejudice, ma'am, sheer prejudice. What do we keep up sich inst.i.toots for? Why, to prevent one man from bein' obleeged to spend more'n another when a lot of beggars come around."

"And yet it seems as if almost any one would be willing to feed a couple of children who were lost."

"There's where you are makin' a mistake ag'in, ma'am. Youngsters eat more'n grown folks, an' I know what I'm talkin' about, 'cause I've raised a family. Heaven helps them as helps themselves, an' when we find two like the one I'm huntin' for, then I say since heaven won't take a hand at it, the town should."

Aunt Nancy remained silent, but those who knew her intimately would have said, because of the manner in which she moved her chair to and fro, that the little woman was struggling very hard to "rule her spirit."

"I don't reckon you know anything about 'em, ma'am," Farmer Pratt said after a long pause, during which Aunt Nancy had rocked violently, with her gaze fixed upon an overbold honey bee who was intent on gathering the sweets from a honeysuckle blossom which the wind had forced through the open window.

"I know this much," she replied with vehemence, "that I hope you won't find the children if it is simply to carry them to the poor farm. We are told of the reward which--"

"Who said anything about a reward?" the farmer asked in alarm, fearing that which he wished should remain a secret was already known.

"The Book tells us what shall be the reward of those who give a cup of cold water only to these His little ones--"

"Oh! is that it?" and the visitor appeared greatly relieved. "I count myself about as good as my neighbors, but when it comes to keepin' a parcel of children, after I've paid my taxes to run a place especially for sich as they, then I say it's a clear waste of money, an' that's as much of a sin as anything else."

"We won't argue the matter," the little woman replied with dignity, "but I hope the time will never come that I, poor as I am, can count the pennies in a dollar when it is a question of giving aid or comfort to the distressed."

"Since you haven't seen the youngsters, there's no need of my stayin'

any longer, ma'am, but it does seem funny that n.o.body has run across 'em, when I heard for a fact that they'd come up this road."

Aunt Nancy knew full well that by remaining silent now, she was giving the visitor to understand she knew nothing about the missing ones; but just at the moment she would have told a deliberate lie rather than give Jack and Louis up to such a man, however much she might have regretted it afterward.

"Of course there's no harm in my askin' the questions," Farmer Pratt said as he moved toward the door, feeling decidedly uncomfortable in mind because of the little woman's sharp words.

"Certainly not; but at the same time I am sorry you came."

"Why, ma'am?"

"Because I have learned how hard-hearted men can be when it is a question of a few dollars. If the children should come to me, they would be given a home, such as it is, until their relatives could be found."

"If they should come, I warn you that it is your duty to let me know, for they drifted ash.o.r.e on my property, an' I've got the first claim."

This was rather more than meek little Aunt Nancy could endure; but she succeeded in checking the angry words, and rose from her chair to intimate that the interview was at an end.

Farmer Pratt went out very quickly, probably fearing he might hear more unpalatable truths, and the old lady watched him until he drove away.

"It was wicked, but I'm glad I did it!" she said emphatically. "The idea of hunting up such children as Jack and Louis simply to send them among paupers!"

Not for many moments did the little woman remain in this frame of mind.

After a time she began to realize that she had done exactly what she told Jack would be impossible--acted a lie, and her conscience began to trouble her greatly.

She tried to read a chapter in the Book with the hope of finding something to comfort her, and, failing in this, her thoughts went out to the children who had left so suddenly.

"Mercy on us!" she exclaimed. "Suppose Jack really has gone away, believing I would tell that man all I knew about him!"

This idea was sufficient to arouse her to action, and she went behind the barn, where she called softly,--

"Jack! Jack! Where are you?"

Not until this very feeble outcry had been repeated half a dozen times did she receive any reply, and then the hunchback, with Louis clasped in his arms, peered out from among the bushes.

"Has the farmer gone?" he asked in a whisper.

"Indeed he has."

"And you didn't tell him where we was?"

"He never asked the question; but all the same, Jack dear, I did wrong in allowing him to suppose I knew nothing about you."

"You're the sweetest aunt any feller ever had," the hunchback said heartily as he came swiftly up and kissed one of the old lady's wrinkled hands before she was aware of his intentions. "I couldn't believe you wanted us taken to the poorhouse, so I didn't go very far off."

"I almost wish I hadn't done it, for--No, I don't either! After talking with that wretch it would have broken my heart to see him take you away!

Give me the baby this minute; it seems as if I hadn't seen him for a week."

Jack willingly relinquished his charge to the motherly arms extended to receive the laughing child, and said, as Aunt Nancy almost smothered Louis with kisses,--