Jack Harkaway and His Son's Escape from the Brigands of Greece Part 37

Such a storm of laughter greeted this sally, that Mr. Mole could not stand up against it.

Looking daggers at every body, he trudged out of the room, digging his walking stick fiercely as he went.

Now at the door, who should he meet but Sunday, grinning from ear to ear?

"I'm not going to be fooled by you, you infernal black pudding," cried Mole, exasperated beyond measure.

"Yah, yah," grinned the mirthful Caesar Augustus, holding his sides.

"Take that," cried Mole.

Sunday did take it.

It was not a pleasant dose, for "that," in this instance, meant a severe crack across the head with old Mole's walking stick.

Sunday rubbed his poll.

Happily the thick wool with which it was garnished saved the skull from much danger, and a n.i.g.g.e.r's head is proverbially tough.

But yet Sunday did not relish the indignity.

"You dam wooden-legged ole tief," he shouted out; "I'll gib it to yar for dis hyar."

And so, full of revengeful thoughts, the darkey sought his friend Monday.

And they set to work plotting, with what result the next day showed-- much to the old gentleman's disgust.

They mustered a good round dinner-party upon the following day.

In front of the summer house was an object which excited Mr. Mole's curiosity considerably.

One of the ladies asked what it was there for.

"I don't know exactly what it is," replied Harkaway; "something of Monday's, I think, d.i.c.k."

"I believe so," replied Harvey, carelessly.

"They are going to give us an entertainment of some kind," said young Jack.

The cloth having been cleared, Monday came forward, and bowing gravely, addressed the company.

"Ladies and gentlemen--"

"Hear, hear!" from Mole, who, thinking himself free from attack, determined to try a bit of chaff upon his own account.

"Thank you, sar," said Monday, bowing gracefully to Mole.

"Ladies and gentlemen--"

"Bravo, bravo!" shouted Mole; "exceedingly bravo."

"Folks generally--sane and insane"--here he bowed in a very marked manner at Mr. Mole.

"Hear, hear!" cried d.i.c.k.

"My entertainment is just a-gwine to begin, and as it is of a scientific natur dat asks for all your attention, I must ax them to go at once who don't wish to stay and see it all through, so as not to interrupt me."

"No one wishes to go."

The most eager person to remain was Mr. Mole.

Poor old Mole.

Monday went on--

"The first that I'se gwine to show you, ladies and gentlemen, is some speciminks of what is known as the occult art, that is, the black art, or magic."

Mole winced.

"Go on."

"Hear, hear!" said d.i.c.k.

"Bravo, Monday," from Jack Harkaway.

Mole was silent.

He had not another "bravo" in him, so to speak.

Monday bowed in acknowledgment of the plaudits.

"In the first place, den, ladies and gentlemen," he went on to say, "I mean to show you my magic mirror."

Mole glanced nervously at d.i.c.k, and from him to Jack Harkaway.

But both looked as stolid as Dutchmen.

Monday drew back the curtain from the easel, disclosing a frame, on which was fitted a plain black board.

"In this frame," said the professor of the black art, "I can show you any persons you may ask for, dat is, persons who are known to you."

Mr. Mole had heard enough to convince him that he was in danger of being once more sacrificed to the insatiable pa.s.sion of his two old pupils for chaffing and practical joking.

"Well, sar," said Monday, "just you try um."

"We will," said d.i.c.k.