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diff --git a/14903-h/14903-h.htm b/14903-h/14903-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..87a34f4 --- /dev/null +++ b/14903-h/14903-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6441 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Mac OS X (vers 1st December 2004), see www.w3.org" /> +<meta http-equiv="content-type" content= +"text/html; charset=us-ascii" /> +<title>The Knights of the White Shield, by Edward A. Rand.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + <!-- + body {font-family:Georgia,serif;margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;font-variant:small-caps;} + pre {font-family:Courier,monospaced;font-size: 0.8em;} + sup {font-size:0.7em;} + hr {width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + hr.short {width:25%;} + h3.chap {padding-top:2em;} + ul {list-style-type:none;padding-left:1em;text-indent:-1em;} + ol {list-style-type:upper-roman;margin-left:20%;font-variant:small-caps;} + .returnTOC {text-align:right;font-size:.7em;} + .cen {text-align:center;} + .rgt {text-align:right;} + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Knights of the White Shield, by Edward A. Rand + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Knights of the White Shield + Up-the-Ladder Club Series, Round One Play + +Author: Edward A. Rand + +Release Date: February 4, 2005 [EBook #14903] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KNIGHTS OF THE WHITE SHIELD *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Tozier, Barbara Tozier, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h4>Up-The-Ladder Club Series.</h4> +<h5>Round One Play.</h5> +<h1>The Knights of the White Shield.</h1> +<h4>by</h4> +<h2>Edward A. Rand</h2> +<hr class="short" /> +<h5>Author of “School and Camp Series:” “Pushing +Ahead; or, Big Brother Dave,” “Roy’s Dory at the +Sea-Shore,” and “Little Brown-Top;” “Bark +Cabin on Kearsarge,” “Schooner on the Beach,” +“Nellie’s New Year,” “Christmas +Jack,” “Kindling-Wood Jimmy,” etc.</h5> +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>1886.</h4> +<h5>New York.</h5> +<hr /> +<h3>Dedicated</h3> +<h3>To Ken and the Other Boys.</h3> +<hr /> +<h3><a id="Contents" name="Contents"></a>Contents</h3> +<ol> +<li><a href="#Ch_1">Making a Club</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_2">The Grand March</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_3">For Sunday-School Scholars, an Offer</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_4">The “Pammerrammer”</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_5">The Nation’s Birthday</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_6">A Sick Patriot</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_7">The Nailed Door and Window</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_8">The Entertainment</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_9">The Cupola</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_10">Aunt Stanshy’s Boarder</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_11">The Club in Splinters</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_12">The Club Mended</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_13">A Knight goes to Sea</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_14">Setting a Trap</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_15">The Fair</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_16">The Fire</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_17">Two Mud-Turtles</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_18">A New Departure</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_19">The Wreck</a></li> +<li><a href="#Ch_20">The Round Higher Up</a></li> +</ol> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>Up-The-Ladder Club.</h2> +<hr /> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_1" name="Ch_1">Chapter I.</a></h3> +<h2>Making a Club.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>There was a clattering of feet on the stairs leading to the +chamber of Aunt Stanshy’s barn. First there popped up one +head and a pair of curious eyes. Then there popped up a second head +and two more eyes. Then there popped up a third head and two more +eyes.</p> +<p>“Jolly! Don’t she beat all?”</p> +<p>It was Sid Waters who said this.</p> +<p>“It’s de best barn in de lane,” said Juggie +Jones, a little colored boy, his dark eyes lighting up with true +interest.</p> +<p>“Well, I think it is a pretty good barn,” rejoined +Charlie Macomber, with apparent unconcern. At the same time a +secret pride was dwelling in his bosom, that suddenly made his +jacket too tight for him. If Seamont, in which the barn was +located, was one of the best of towns in the opinion of its +inhabitants, this particular barn, in Charlie’s estimate, was +one of the best structures of that sort in the place. Below, on the +first floor, there was a chance of a stall for Brindle, now grazing +in a little pasture adjoining the garden. There was, also, a stall +for a horse, and an extra stall, though empty, always gives dignity +to a barn, suggesting what has been, and, while speaking of a glory +departed, hints of that which may be another day.</p> +<p>But the chamber! What palace of gold ever had a room equal to +that chamber? It had a row of barrels, behind which or in which you +could safely hide. It had a ladder that would let you smartly bump +your head against the highest rafter in the roof, a cross-beam, +too, from which you could suspend a swing, and a window in the rear +from which you could look upon the Missigatchee River (supposed to +have been christened by the Indians). This river-view you could +have had, if the window had not been boarded up, but there was a +front window, whose big square shutter was generally open. This +gave a boy a view of the lane and, if maliciously disposed, a +chance to safely let drive an apple or a snow-ball at any +“down-townie” that might rashly invade the +neighborhood. There was also a window high up, at one end, well +latticed with cobwebs. Then there was a closet, which was splendid +for “Hy-spy,” and—notice!—honor upon +honor—there was a “cupelo,” as Charlie called it, +on top of the barn. Through the slats of the “cupelo,” +one could look upon the river shining gloriously at sunset, as if +the sun were a Chinese mandarin that at this hour spread his yellow +silk robe upon the river in a vain attempt to warm up the cold +waters just from the sea. Besides this there were various +attractions, such as oars in the corner, nets hanging from nails, +and let it not be forgotten that a big strip of dried halibut +dangled from a spike in the wall. To a hungry boy what is there +better than such a halibut, unless it be two halibuts? Already +there had been sly, toothsome pickings of this.</p> +<p>It is no wonder, then, that the soul of Sid Waters, to say +nothing of his stomach in view of the halibut, was powerfully +affected, and again he cried out, “Jolly!” Then he +clapped his hands, shouting, “Just the place for a +club!”</p> +<p>“A club” said Juggie Jones. “Got nuff dose on +my wood-pile.”</p> +<p>“He means an or-gorgan-gangor—” Charlie spoke +very hesitatingly. It was a long word and threatened to catch +crosswise in his windpipe and choke him.</p> +<p>“Organization?” inquired Sid. “O I will show +you. We had plenty of ’em in Boston.”</p> +<p>As Sid had just moved from the city, and especially a city so +full of knowledge as Boston, Charlie and Juggie received this piece +of news with all possible respect.</p> +<p>“We can make one right here,” suggested Charlie.</p> +<p>“Yes, straight off,” said the late citizen of +Boston.</p> +<p>“But whar’s de boys?” asked Juggie.</p> +<p>“O three will do,” said Sid Waters, “for you +don’t want many to start with. I know the club will be +popular after she has been started. And then, fellers,” he +said, in a quiet tone, “there’s a better chance for +offices in a small club, you know. We can fill ’em all now +and get good berths.”</p> +<p>It was a great temptation, but a conviction of the importance of +numbers finally prevailed. The three pioneers in this great club +movement saw also it would look better to defer all elections until +others had joined, as it would give these a chance for position. +The magnanimity native to the three conquered, and it was decided +to accumulate more material before making the club.</p> +<p>“We might adjourn and meet in an hour,” suggested +Sid. “That would give us more opportunity to invite other +fellers in.”</p> +<p>How Charlie did admire Sid for his easy flow of language! The +“lane,” as Seamont called the narrow street before the +barn, was now searched for recruits, and the barn-chamber was +deserted a whole hour. The big horse-flies sawed on their +bass-viols at their leisure. The warm gold of the sunshine +undisturbed continued to decorate the floor of the chamber. Hark! +There’s a noise in the yard! It grows to a harried, +breathless scramble on the stairs. Finally eight boys appeared, the +future members of the club, save one or two later additions. There +was Sid or Sidney Waters, aged eleven. He was the oldest boy +present, and the brains really of the enterprise. He was a bit +vain, rather selfish, and liked to have his own way, a very rare +failing among boys. Still, he was a bright boy, and he had his +generous impulses as well as his selfish ones. Rick Grimes, aged +ten, was a stout, Dutchy kind of lad, rather slow and heavy, but +well-meaning and pretty resolute. There was also Billy Grimes, +Rick’s cousin, and a year younger. You would have said that +these two boys came from the same ancestral stock when you saw +their cheeks. These had a well-filled look, as if padded for +Thanksgiving.</p> +<p>This peculiarity of feature gave the cousins special titles in +whose selection the boy-instinct for nicknames had shown its +unerring accuracy of aim. One was “Choppy,” and the +other, Billy, was “Cousin Choppy.” Their playmates were +generally considerate and did not apply these titles unless they +“got mad.” Forgetting themselves, these titles might be +sent flying about freely as snow-balls in a January thaw. There was +Worthington Wentworth. It takes a long breath and a very straight +throat to say that, and we will not repeat it, but will call him +Wort Wentworth, as the boys did. His hair was twisted all over his +head, like a brush fence, and his black eyes were very lively. He +was one of the rogues of the club, and at school took more +rattannings, as a mark of his teacher’s affection, than any +other boy. Juggie Jones—full name Jugurtha Bonaparte +Jones—was a little colored fellow lately from the South, now +living with his granny, a washer-woman, in a little yellow house at +the head of the lane. He was always laughing and showing his white +teeth. He was a great favorite with the boys. Wort and Juggie were +of the same age as Charlie,—nine. Pip or Piper Peckham, aged +eight, was a big-eyed, black-haired, little fellow with a peaked +face. Timid, sensitive to neglect, very fond of notice, he was +sometimes a subject for the tricks of his playmates. Then there was +Tony or Antonio Blanco, a late arrival at Seamont. He was an +olive-faced, black-haired, shy little fellow. When he spoke, he +used English, but his accent was Italian. He was rarely heard from. +An air of mystery encircled him. Whether his father was a count in +Italy or a seller of pea-nuts in New York, no one at Seamont had +been able to say for a month, and that was a long time in circles +of gossip. It was finally asserted that his father lived in Italy. +Tony was of the same age as Pip.</p> +<p>Concerning Charlie we shall find out farther along.</p> +<p>“Will the gentlemen please come to order,” shouted +Sid Waters, pompously,” and sit—sit—on the +floor?”</p> +<p>The meeting obeyed at once.</p> +<p>“Ahem—I ’spose we had better fill the offices +first. Who will be president?”</p> +<p>This magnanimous tender of the office to any one present was +received in silence. The meeting was overawed by the thought of +this mighty honor so nigh at hand. All recovered in a short time, +and several, including Pip Peckham, were about to sacrifice +themselves for the common good, when Sid dexterously presented +himself as an offering ahead of them all, and said: “Well, if +nobody wants it, as I don’t like to see an office go +a-beggin’, I’ll—I’ll take it!”</p> +<p>“Three cheers for our president!” said Charlie, +magnanimously, and the three were given, though it must be +confessed that several disappointed souls cheered faintly.</p> +<p>“We ought to have a governor,” said Charlie.</p> +<p>“What! besides a president?” inquired Sid, a slight +sneer noticeable in his tones.</p> +<p>“Don’t they have a governor in Massachusetts?” +inquired Charlie, triumphantly.</p> +<p>“Well, ye—ye—yes.”</p> +<p>That settled it, for Massachusetts custom was plainly authority +in this matter.</p> +<p>Rick Grimes was made governor.</p> +<p>“Treasurer now!” called out Sid.</p> +<p>“Charlie, would you like to be that?” he whispered. +Charlie was about to say “Yes,” when the fruit hanging +before his thirsty lips was suddenly snatched away.</p> +<p>“I’d like that,” piped a voice. It was Pip +Peckham.</p> +<p>“Ahem!” said the president, “I think the +office ought to be given to experience,” and here he looked +in the direction of Charlie.</p> +<p>“Who’s he?” inquired Billy. “Who’s +Sperience?”</p> +<p>“Silence!” ordered the president. “Little boys +must speak only when they are spoken to.”</p> +<p>Billy pouted.</p> +<p>“Why couldn’t we have two treasuries?” +inquired Gov. Grimes, putting the thing for its keeper. This happy +solution of a difficult problem was at once accepted. Charlie was +named as the first official of this grade, and Pip as the +second.</p> +<p>“We ought to have a keeper of the great seal,” said +the president.</p> +<p>“What is that?” asked the inquisitive Billy. The +president was puzzled to say just what it did mean, +“But,” he affirmed, “I think we ought to have it. +It is something, I know, and they put it on things.”</p> +<p>“I know what it is,” said Gov. Grimes, eagerly. +“My uncle has two down on the wharf, in a tank, a great one +and a little one, and I guess we could have the great one up here, +and some one be keeper of it.”</p> +<p>The contempt of the president was undisguised. “That +isn’t it! If I could only think, but there is so much noise! +Order, gentlemen!”</p> +<p>Whatever noise had been made, the president was the author of +the most of it, though he did not seem to know it.</p> +<p>“Perhaps we’d better ’journ that,” said +Gov. Grimes. “That’s what they do to things in +meetings, when they want to put them off, my father +says.”</p> +<p>“Well, we can do that, only I think we’d better have +a—”</p> +<p>“I will!” shouted Wort, fearful that he might lose +his chance for an office, and eagerly assenting beforehand to any +thing that was coming.</p> +<p>“You be janitor, and take care of +the—the—hall?” said Sid, looking round on the +barn-chamber. “That’s what I meant.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes!”</p> +<p>“There ought to be a sentinel,” said Sid; +“one, you know, to look after the door and not let any +down-townies up. Will you, Juggie?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied that man of war, Jugurtha Bonaparte +Jones.</p> +<p>“Billy’s got nothing,” said Juggie.</p> +<p>“So he hasn’t,” said Gov. Grimes. “We +ought to have a secretary, to put up notices and soon.”</p> +<p>“Billy shall be that,” declared the president. As +Billy was backward in his studies and could not write, his office +promised to be one of great honor and no duties. Every body had +been pat into office except one, shy, silent, little olive-face, +Tony. He was contented to be an unnoticed flower in the field. +Charlie was the first to detect it, and whispered to Sid, +“Tony hasn’t got nothing.”</p> +<p>It was felt to be a very small kind of a club that had not an +office for every member, and Tony was made assistant-sentinel. The +club was in raptures, every body in office!</p> +<p>“What shall be the name of the club?” asked the +president. This was followed by a long discussion. Earth and sky +were searched for a name.</p> +<p>“Call it Star Club,” said Billy.</p> +<p>“No, that aint bright enough,” replied the governor. +The titles “Sun,” “Moon,” and +“Comet” were successively rejected. “Let’s +ask teacher,” chirped little Pip. The idea took, and it was +resolved to visit “teacher” as soon as the club had +been manufactured.</p> +<p>“I think we ought to pay something,” suggested +Charlie. The club resolved that each member should pay a cent a +month.</p> +<p>“And what do with the money?” asked the +governor.</p> +<p>“Buy swords,” replied the martial Jugurtha.</p> +<p>The idea spread like wild-fire, and, not stopping to count how +long at the above rate it would take to accumulate money sufficient +to buy a sword for every one, the club voted Juggie’s +proposition a wise and patriotic one.</p> +<p>“I think,” said the self-forgetful Sid, “that +the president ought to have the first sword.”</p> +<p>“And the governor next,” said Rick.</p> +<p>“And the treasury next,” said Charlie.</p> +<p>“I’m that, Charlie, too, and I want one,” +clamored Pip.</p> +<p>“A sentinel ought to have one fust, ’cause +he’s at de door, and might hab to dribe away +down-townies,” said Juggie.</p> +<p>“No, me first,” said the governor.</p> +<p>“No, me,” said the president.</p> +<p>“No, me,” said the secretary.</p> +<p>It was “me!” “me!” “me!” all +over the barn chamber, and the members of that swordless club were +almost at swords’ points.</p> +<p>“Sposin’ we ’journ this,” said Charlie +the peace-maker, remembering the rule for “doing +things” in meetings.</p> +<p>“Yes,” exclaimed Sid, “and until we get a real +sword each one can chalk a sword on his pants.”</p> +<p>“Hurrah!” sang out Gov. Grimes, and each one, happy +in the thought that he could have a sword as speedily as his +neighbor, cheered lustily.</p> +<p>“Now, boys, let’s go and see ‘teacher’ +about our name,” suggested the president. The barn was +vacated at once, and the members of the club went down stairs as if +a fire were after them, and then rushed along the lane, all heading +for a cozy story-and-a-half house where “teacher” +lived. “The Sunday-school teacher” was Miss Bertha +Barry, brown-haired, brown-eyed, vivacious Bertha Barry. All the +boys were in her class, save Tony.</p> +<p>“O, she won’t do for a teacher,” said old Mrs. +Jones, when the pastor invited Bertha to enter the Sunday-school as +a worker. “Too flighty!”</p> +<p>“She wont stick,” growled Timothy Scriggins, a +venerable male gossip, who scolded every body and every thing, +satisfied only with Timothy Scriggins.</p> +<p>However, she <em>did do</em> and she did <em>stick</em>. The +boys took a very positive fancy to this young, sprightly, energetic +teacher, and their liking lasted. She compelled their respect and +she won their hearts. They looked upon her as an older sister, and +promptly confided to her their troubles and solicited her advice. +In a troop, running, panting, they came into her yard and presented +themselves at her door.</p> +<p>“Come into the sitting-room, boys. Glad to see you. +Well!”</p> +<p>Her air said: “I wonder what brought my class in a body to +me,” something was evidently on the minds of all. The +president quickly dissipated the mystery.</p> +<p>“We—we—” said Sid, trying to catch his +breath, “have—formed +a—club—and—want—you—to name +it.”</p> +<p>“Yes! yes! yes!” was the chorus coming from the +eager faces turned up to Miss Bertha.</p> +<p>“Name a club? Dear me! What shall I tell you? Where is +your club?”</p> +<p>“Here!” said Sid, looking round in pride.</p> +<p>“No; I mean, where do you hold your meetings?”</p> +<p>“In my barn,” said Charlie. “You go in from +the street and go up some stairs. It’s up stairs.”</p> +<p>“You might go up higher,” added the governor. +“There’s a ladder there, so you can get up—up in +the cupelo, but you wont want to go up there.”</p> +<p>“Why, that suggests a name. It’s a little odd, but +you’ll think of it every time you go up stairs and see the +ladder. Call it ‘Up-the-Ladder Club,’ and then it will +have a meaning that you are boys who mean to do your best, climbing +up always, up, up, up!”</p> +<p>Miss Bertha here reached as high as she could, and her admirers, +with sparkling eyes, stretched upward their small arms, also, +shouting, “Up-the-Ladder Club! Up-the-Ladder Club!”</p> +<p>“I’ll put it to vote, teacher,” said the +president, with dignity. “Those in favor of it, say +‘Aye.’”</p> +<p>A ringing “Aye” was now given, and after it, came a +sharp-featured, wrinkled face at the door.</p> +<p>“Land’s sake, Bertha, what’s the +matter?”</p> +<p>“O it’s only my class, grandmother.”</p> +<p>“It scat me dreadfully. I thought it was fire,” and, +saying this, the old lady, with a sigh of relief, withdrew.</p> +<p>“And now, teacher, we want a badge; something to wear, you +know,” exclaimed Sid.</p> +<p>“What’s that you have on?” Miss Bertha asked +of Juggie.</p> +<p>“A sword,” replied that warrior, displaying his +right leg, on which he had already chalked a sword.</p> +<p>“That’s for the down-townies,” said the +governor, in a martial tone.</p> +<p>“I’m—afraid—the +‘down-townies’ will laugh at that; are not +you?”</p> +<p>The club had only thought of what they might do to the +“down-townies,” not at all of what the latter would do +to them. They certainly had not given a thought to any ridicule +these old enemies might heap upon them. A sadden chill now struck +the sword-plan and it went down in the boys’ estimation like +the mercury in the glass on a cold day.</p> +<p>“Now, I don’t want my class to be sword-boys. I +can’t say I fancy the idea. I will tell you something that I +think will be nice, and I will make the badge.”</p> +<p>Here the mercury began to climb the glass again, and that +chilled look in the boys’ faces began to thaw out.</p> +<p>“I will make you—each one of you—a pretty +white shield, to be worn on the left arm, make it of pasteboard, so +it will be stiff, and then cover it nicely with white +silk.”</p> +<p>The boys began to hurrah. The mercury was away up the glass +now.</p> +<p>“A white shield, that will mean something. That means +purity, honesty, every thing good and fair, and that your beautiful +white shield will be your defense against harm. You are my knights +of the white shield.”</p> +<p>The applause following this was almost tumultuous.</p> +<p>“You are the Up-the-Ladder Club, that is, boys who are +always going ahead in every thing good; climbing up, not lazy or +bad, but boys, with an ambition—a true Up-the-Ladder +Club—”</p> +<p>“Or,” suggested Sid, impressively, “the +Knights of the White Shield.”</p> +<p>How Charlie did admire the ready wit of the president! The +enthusiasm of the club increased. As in that reputed story of Maria +Theresa, where her nobles are said to have surrounded her, and, +waving their swords enthusiastically, pledged her their support, so +the Up-the-Ladder Club waved their caps around this their young +queen. The excitement became so intense it was necessary to open +the door to give it suitable vent, and out into the open air went +these newly-dubbed knights.</p> +<p>“There go Bertha Barry’s boys, I know,” +growled Timothy Scriggins, who chanced to meet this band of knights +issuing from the yard of their queen. “I never saw sich a +teacher.”</p> +<p>Well, the boys loved her. There was now a rush for the barn. +When they had all safely arrived in the chamber, Charlie suddenly +and soberly exclaimed, “There!”</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” inquired Sid. “You +look pale. Has any one put his sword—I mean his shield +into—I mean on you?”</p> +<p>Charlie did not feel like joking. A dark thought had +overshadowed him and changed a peaceful to a threatening sky.</p> +<p>“What is it?” asked Gov. Grimes.</p> +<p>“I did not,” replied Charlie, “ask Aunt +Stanshy if we might have the barn!”</p> +<p>That was an omission indeed, and the club appreciated it, as +“Aunt Stanshy” was well known by the boys. All the +sunshine seemed to disappear suddenly and a cloud was on every +thing.</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy’s name in full was Constantia, but, like the +crown-jewels of England, it was only used on very important +occasions. The house and barn both belonged to Aunt Stanshy, +property that had been willed her by her father, Solomon Macomber, +whose body slept under the wings of a blue-stone cherub in the +cemetery. Her nephew, Charles, on the death of his wife, came to +live with Aunt Stanshy, bringing his infant heir. When the father +died, little Charlie was left in Aunt Stanshy’s care. She was +a tall, resolute woman, so tall that Simes Badger told Charlie that +when he wanted to put colors on a flag-staff, he needn’t go +out of the house. That made Charlie mad. Aunt Stanshy had sharp, +black eyes, and spectacles made them look all the sharper. As +Charlie said, “Aunt Stanshy’s eyes sometimes look as if +they had snappin’ crackers in ’em.” Aunt Stanshy +was really kind at heart and really loved Charlie, and he had all +the comforts of home; but she would sometimes speak quick, and she +was always sure to “speak her mind,” be the rate of +speech slow or quick. Simes Badger was a retired old salt and kept +the light-house; not that scanty funds compelled him, but mostly +because he must do something about the sea to keep him at all +contented. Simes once remarked, “I’ll allow that +Stanshy is a leetle tart at times, and I’ve knowed her since +she was a gal. But then if you take a good sour apple and stew it +and sugar it, it makes a first-class apple-pie. Howsomever, it must +be well stewed and well sugared.” The boys now trembled lest +this vigorous, resolute soul might not favor their plans, and +denying it a place of meeting might end the days of the infant +club.</p> +<p>“There,” said Sid, mournfully, “we’ve +made a club, but we’ve got no place to stick it in! How would +it do to make Aunt Stanshy an honorary member of the +club?”</p> +<p>The faces of all brightened at this happy thought.</p> +<p>“And not athk her to pay a thent a month, but ektheuth +her,” suggested Pip, who had a lisping style of speech.</p> +<p>This was another happy thought and acceptable to the club.</p> +<p>“I’ll go and ask her,” said Charlie. As he +went down stairs, the members of the club gathered around the open +window, anxiously looking out and awaiting the return of their +embassador to her majesty in the kitchen, Constantia the first. +Aunt Stanshy was washing clothes when Charlie entered. With a +drooping head and faltering tongue he told about the club and asked +for the barn, having announced her honorary membership, and also +the remission of the monthly due. Aunt Stanshy had a streak of fun +in her nature and a big one. When she looked out into the yard, and +glancing up saw the seven sober, anxious faces at the barn window, +she laughed and said, “Well, Charlie, have I got to lug a +big, heavy white shield around?”</p> +<p>“O it’s a beautiful one of pasteboard and +silk.”</p> +<p>“Well, well, say yes.”</p> +<p>When he had gone, Aunt Stanshy took her hands out of the suds, +sat down in a flag-bottomed chair by the store, and laughed till +her sides ached. She was washing again when the granny of the +“Sentinel” came in to help her. Granny took the +flag-bottomed chair and asked, “What’s de news, +Stanshy?”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy burst out laughing, and the big ribbon-ends of her +cap fluttered like a pennant at the mast-head.</p> +<p>“Why, I’m an honorary member and sha’n’t +have to pay a cent; ha, ha, ha!”</p> +<p>“A what?”</p> +<p>But Aunt Stanshy made no explanation. She only pounded her +clothes and roared, so tickled was she. Subsiding, she soon broke +out again.</p> +<p>“Why, chile, what’s de matter?” asked granny. +“You done gone crazy and sure for’t.”</p> +<p>“I’m an honorary member, and have got to wear a silk +shield, I tell you.”</p> +<p>Granny went home, shaking her head and saying, “I do +b’lieve she’s losin’ her mind sure, and dat am +mournfu’ in one so young an’ lubly.”</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_2" name="Ch_2">Chapter II.</a></h3> +<h2>The Grand March.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>“Please, aunty, lend me your wash-stick.”</p> +<p>As he spoke Charlie was all excitement, running eagerly from the +barn into the house. Obtaining the coveted treasure, he as eagerly +ran back. Two minutes passed.</p> +<p>“May I have the curtain-stick up in your chamber that you +don’t want?”</p> +<p>“How do you know I don’t want it?”</p> +<p>“‘Cause it’s doing nothing, standing up in the +corner.”</p> +<p>“O what eyes! Yes, you may have it.”</p> +<p>Three minutes went.</p> +<p>“Aunty, couldn’t I have the broom-handle out in the +entry? Some of the boys knew you wouldn’t let me, but I said +you would. I knew you would let a feller take it,” said the +ingenious Charlie.</p> +<p>“For pity’s sake, Charles Pitt Macomber, what +next?”</p> +<p>This was Charlie’s real name and used for greater +impressiveness.</p> +<p>“That broom-handle is what I fasten the back window with, +and if any bugglars get in tonight, I must blame you.”</p> +<p>However, Charlie carried his point. In a few minutes he appeared +again, and pointed at his shoulder.</p> +<p>“Aunty, see here!”</p> +<p>“Why, Charles Pitt, what have you done to your +shoulder?”</p> +<p>Charlie grinned. There, on the left shoulder, was a chalk +shield. “Teacher, of course, must have time to make our silk +shields, and so we got up these.”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy’s eyes let out some funny, bright sparks.</p> +<p>“O, no, it’s only the grand march.”</p> +<p>“The grand march!”</p> +<p>“Yes, and see here, aunty. I have only this chalk shield, +and you don’t want your boy to go that way. Please let me +take that old sword above the sitting-room mantel-piece,” +pleaded Charlie, with beseeching eyes.</p> +<p>“Grandsir’s sword? O that wont do. Why, that sword +was at the battles of Quebec and Banker Hill and Waterloo +and—”</p> +<p>Constantia! In her loyalty to grandsir’s memory, she was +unconsciously mentioning places he had never been in! All this +array of names only fired Charlie’s ardor. At last Aunt +Stanshy said, “There, take it! The next thing, I spose, +you’ll want me.”</p> +<p>“We may; but you’d have to dress up in man’s +clothes, you know.”</p> +<p>“Never!” said Aunt Stanshy, firmly. +“Don’t go out of the lane with grandsir’s +sword!”</p> +<p>“We’ll be along soon.”</p> +<p>“How will I know it? I may be up stairs.”</p> +<p>“We will give three cheers under the window.”</p> +<p>There was an increasing commotion in the barn chamber.</p> +<p>“Now, fellers!” exclaimed Sid Waters. “You +won’t be ready for the grand march.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, yes,” they shouted back.</p> +<p>“Is the chariot ready for the president?” inquired +Sid.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Charlie, who purposed to furnish his +go-cart for the occasion. “It’s down in the +yard.”</p> +<p>“I have the first ride, you know.”</p> +<p>“And I the second,” said the governor.</p> +<p>“Yes, but the governor must go behind while the president +rides.”</p> +<p>Rick’s heart sank within him, but all had promised to obey +orders and there was no appeal.</p> +<p>“Every feller’s—I mean +knight’s—uniform ready?” asked the president.</p> +<p>Charlie’s certainly was. Every moment he could spare out +of school that day, he had been sewing in his snug little bedroom. +Such stitches! They looked like pairs of bars trying to straddle a +brush fence. For epaulets he arranged pieces of black cloth, the +center of each being brightened with a strip of red. His belt was +made of white flannel dotted with a flaming row of red stars, and +with these were interspersed various sizes of mild chocolate suns. +Each of the other warriors sported a chalk shield, as did Charlie. +This was the only thing in common. Other insignia varied in +character, color, and size, as much as would those of Chinese, +Anglo-Saxon and Zulu troops. Pip Peckham, in his anxiety for +distinction, had chalked a shield on each shoulder! The cheapness +of the material used would readily permit this, but Pip’s +appearance was insignificant beside Charlie’s, who strode +forward to the march, flourishing grandsir’s sword. Not even +Alexander, Julius Cæsar, Napoleon, or General Grant, ever had +a sword to be compared with Charlie’s that day. The warriors +moved out from their “armory” into the yard. Aunt +Stanshy was up stairs making a bed. Suddenly under her window, +arose a wild, semi-civilized, semi-barbarous shout.</p> +<p>“What is to pay?” she screamed. “O those +little boobies!” and she sprang to the window. The +“Grand March” had been inaugurated with full pomp. Sid +Waters, as president, was sitting in the go-cart, his head +ornamented with a huge smothering three-cornered hat, made out of a +New York daily. Rick Grimes, as governor, was walking behind the +go-cart, now and then giving the “chariot” an +obsequious push, but impatiently awaiting his turn for a ride. +Billy Grimes and Pip Peckham were serving as horses, and soldiers +also, pulling along the president and sharing the broom-handle +between them. Whether that handle might be a “musket” +or a “spear,” no one could say. Charlie served as a +body-guard, now looking at Aunt Stanshy’s window and then +glancing in pride at grandsir’s sword. Juggie was a +color-bearer, and at the same time a color-guard of one appeared in +the shape of Tony, flourishing Aunt Stanshy’s clothes-stick. +The colors were a very small American flag on a very long +bean-pole. Twenty feet ahead of the whole procession, in solitary +glory, walked Wort. He was a kind of “chief marshal,” +Sid had said, but Wort could not forget that he had also been made +“keeper of the great seal” that very day, and in token +of it he took along the borrowed curtain-stick.</p> +<p>“Halt!”</p> +<p>This summons came not from the chief marshal but the president, +and was promptly obeyed by all. Wort retreated from his advanced +position and assumed command. “The grand review will now +begin,” he shouted. “The whole of you may get into +line. Now forward! For—<em>ward</em>!”</p> +<p>“Say wheel, first!” called out Sid, not intending +Aunt Stanshy or any other spectator should hear the advice be +thought it necessary to give the chief marshal.</p> +<p>“Wheel first!” shouted Wort, but the only +“wheel” that started was one on the go-cart, which +concluded to leave its axle, much to the disgust of the president +and the confusion of the company. Sid sprang from the cart. +“Here, let me do it, Wort.”</p> +<p>“Form in line!” Wort shouted majestically.</p> +<p>“Form in line!” Sid was whispering to several old +veterans. “Where’s Juggie?”</p> +<p>“Here, cap’n.”</p> +<p>“Keep your bugle handy and sound it when Wort says, +‘Charge!’”</p> +<p>Juggie proudly brandished a fish-horn which he had borrowed of +Simes Badger.</p> +<p>“Shoulder arms!” screamed Wort.</p> +<p>“Ground arms!”</p> +<p>“Ow, my teeth!” squeaked Pip, whose foot had been +vigorously rammed by Billy Grimes.</p> +<p>“Order arms! Present arms! March! Charge!”</p> +<p>These directions followed one another so rapidly that only the +oldest veterans, and they wildly, could attempt obedience.</p> +<p>“Blow your bugle!” shouted Sid to Juggie.</p> +<p>“Charge! Cavalry, forward!” Wort was shrieking.</p> +<p>It was a wild melee. The cavalry (go-cart) was shoved forward by +Gov. Grimes, running it against Pip and Billy, while the +“infantry” rushed ahead, each on his own hook, the +color-bearer and the color-guard trying to get into place +somewhere. Wort vainly endeavored to keep at the head of something +or somebody. All this time Juggie was swelling his cheeks and +sounding his horn, and this was the only thing that was +successfully done. Fortunately the ground to be charged across was +not a long stretch, and in a moment they were all shoving against +the fence.</p> +<p>“Wort, you didn’t do that right,” claimed the +president.</p> +<p>“Yes, I did.”</p> +<p>“No, you’re wrong,” asserted Sid.</p> +<p>“Let me try?” asked Rick.</p> +<p>“No, this will do,” said Sid. “You may march +us, Rick.”</p> +<p>This compromise was accepted. Away they all went, Rick strutting +forward with great dignity, but Juggie waved his flag cautiously, +for the flourishing of such a long pole might lead to his +capsizing. Tony followed Juggie. Billy and Pip still tugged at the +go-cart that the president continued to monopolize. Charlie +solemnly guarded the precious freight in the “chariot.” +Wort, who had been at the head of the column, had now wandered to +the rear, and his face wore a puzzled look, as if he did not know +where to put the chief marshal.</p> +<p>“You ought to have two policemen in front,” squeaked +a little voice from the sidewalk. It was Tommy Keys, a small boy, +who had seen a procession in Boston, and thought he knew how such +things ought to be managed.</p> +<p>“Shet up,” shouted the governor, indignant at even +the faintest suggestion of weakness, and he rushed upon Tommy with +a drawn clothes-stick. Away went the terrified Tommy.</p> +<p>“So may all our foes be routed!” said the president, +and to this sentiment there was a response of three cheers. Alas, +how soon all that pride was to be humiliated! The column was now +nearing the head of the lane which ran into Water Street, the +leading business avenue of the town. Sid, who always had an eye out +to the course that was prudent, was exclaiming, in low tones, +“Don’t—don’t go too near Water Street! Look +out for down-townies, fellers!” It is often the case in a +village of any size that there will be among the boys two parties +representing two different sections and supposed to represent two +different ideas and civilizations. Seamont had its boy-clans, those +at the lower end of the village being the down-townies, and those +at the upper end were designated as up-townies. The club belonged +to the up-townies, “the only fit class for gentlemen,” +Sid had declared The down-townies delighted to hurl all kinds of +epithets at the other boys, and these “gentlemen” +up-townies could sling titles almost as successfully, and both +sides would sometimes give additional flavor to their epithets by +means of missiles, even as mothers sometimes season their +injunctions to boys with a twig from the old apple-tree in the +yard. The club had had no hand in these intestine feuds, but +sympathized with the warriors in their neighborhood, the +up-townies. There had been war recently between the two hostile +sections, so that the boys did not venture far from their homes, +and what did our valiant column now run into but a band of six +belligerent down-townies! The club, at Sid’s suggestion, had +already passed a vote to give no quarter to down-townies, and that +in case of trouble it should be “war to the last drop!” +They prudently did not say what that drop might be, blood or only +perspiration. Here was a grand test-hour close at hand. One of the +down-townies raised a provoking cry, “Ho, fellers; see those +little ragamuffins!”</p> +<p>He pointed toward the column, whose advance Juggie was +enthusiastically stimulating by loud and prolonged blasts on the +fish-horn.</p> +<p>“Boys, let’s go for ’em,” said one of +the down-townies. Raising the war-whoop of the down-townies, which +was a savage, senseless yell, and lacking the fine martial tones of +the up-townies’ battle-cry, the enemy made their charge. Sid +Waters stepped, or leaped rather, from the “chariot” +and ran toward the barn. Away went the “colors” in the +hands of Juggie, almost capsizing him, as the tall standard swayed +violently. Away went Wort, and away went Tony. Away rattled the +go-cart, Billy and Pip making excellent time as they dragged it +along. An engine rushing to a fire could not have gone much +faster.</p> +<p>“Don’t run!” shouted Gov. Grimes. “Stand +your ground, my men! Rally!”</p> +<p>“No, sir,” said Charlie, replying to the first +appeal, and then, in response to the second, said, quickly, +“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>Charlie was the only one among “my men” willing to +“rally.” But the governor was not discouraged. He was +resolute, even at times to stubbornness.</p> +<p>He waved his clothes-stick and shrieked, “Come on! I defy +you!”</p> +<p>Charlie also looked defiant; but he was so intent on facing the +enemy that he did not pay proper attention to his armor, and the +sword that had been so loyal to grandsir now turned into a rebel to +Charlie. It did what swords will sometimes do; it insisted on +mixing up with his chubby legs as he changed his position, and over +he went! Rick had grappled the enemy, but it was a hopeless +struggle, and things looked ominous for that fragment of the club +now in the battle.</p> +<p>Suddenly a sharp, penetrating, commanding voice was heard. +“Don’t you touch ’em, you rascals,” and a +tall, resolute figure rose above the prostrate Charlie, flourishing +a broom. It was Aunt Stanshy, who, from her window, had watched the +boys, and, seeing the approach of that down-town thunder-cloud, +rushed out to meet the storm. Her prowess was witnessed by Simes +Badger, who, as a leading village gossip, was loafing away an hour +of leisure in a flag-bottomed chair before Silas Trefethen’s +grocery. He told the story to all the village gossips of the +masculine sex who gathered at the grocery as soon as they had +swallowed their tea and had done as few chores at home as +possible.</p> +<p>“Well!” said Simes, laughing.</p> +<p>He was a gaunt, long-drawn-out man, owning a straggling, gray +beard, a pair of brown, twinkling eyes, and a nasal voice.</p> +<p>“I saw something, to-day, that beat the Dutch. It was Aunt +Stanshy, and she did beat the Dutch; yes, she did, yaw, yaw, yaw! +You see a parcel of young ones went up the lane in fine feather, +colors flying and drums beat-in’.” (This, to mildly put +it, was a misstatement, as not a drum was there to be beaten; but +Simes had a weakness for “misstatements.”) “Well, +they neared Water Street, and just then the enemy appeared, a lot +of down-townies, yaw, yawl My, didn’t those sojers scatter, +all but two! I expected them two would be cut up like meat in a +sausage-machine, but, turnin’ to look down the lane, I saw a +sight! It was Stanshy! She had left the house, broom in hand, and +rushed up to the battle-ground, and there she stood among them +down-townie chaps, and she fetched that broom backward an forward +in grand style, as if sweepin’ out of the way a lot of +dirt!”</p> +<p>Here Simes, who always fancied that he was gifted with dramatic +powers unusually fine, pulled a broom out of the stock in a +neighboring barrel, and began to sway it backward and forward.</p> +<p>“My! didn’t Stanshy sweep the battle-field? The +enemy went down like leaves before a November gale!”</p> +<p>Simes, who was bound to act out the narrative, gave an unlucky +sweep with his broom above the heads of his grinning and gaping +auditors, and whacked Silas Trefethen, who was behind the counter +putting up codfish.</p> +<p>“Mind, Simes, there! What are you up to, man?” +shouted Silas, tartly, trying to make a stand against the +staggering blow dealt amid the laughter of Simes’s +auditors.</p> +<p>“O, O! ’Scuse me, Silas! I was only +’lustratin’.”</p> +<p>“’Lustrate next time on that post behind you. If +Stanshy Macomber had such rigor in her arm as that, I pity those +down-townies!”</p> +<p>Was not Aunt Stanshy indignant when she heard how Simes Badger +had taken her off at the store! “I’ll try my broom on +him next time,” she told Juggie’s granny.</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy was very popular with the club, who passed a vote +of thanks to their honorary member. The down-townies, though, +christened her “the dragon of the lane,” and did not +venture near her. Knowing that this fear existed, Sid Waters and +other members of the club, especially the runaways, now ventured +several times as far as Water Street, shouting defiance to +imaginary enemies behind corners and trees. Sid was exceedingly +daring with his tongue. It was noticed that he never again +<em>rode</em> on such occasions. He evidently wished to have his +legs handy, as he could rely on these better than the go-cart.</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_3" name="Ch_3">Chapter III.</a></h3> +<h2>For Sunday-School Scholars, an Offer.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Charlie and Aunt Stanshy worshiped at St. John’s. Dear old +St. John’s! It was a brick edifice, homely in its style, but +glorious in its associations. It had two tiers of arched windows, +the upper row letting light into a long, lofty gallery, that +generally had for its occupants perhaps a dozen very shy auditors. +If a “coaster” were in port over Sunday, then the +heavy, shuffling tread of several men of the sea might be heard on +the gallery stairs. This might happen when the service was a third +through, and by the time it was two thirds through the shuffling +tread might be heard on the stairs again, and this time echoing +toward the door. The gallery was plain and old-fashioned in its +finish, but it was supported by twisted wooden pillars considered +to be marvels of architectural ingenuity in their day. The pews +were old-fashioned in their form and decoration; but then they were +surrounded by so many dear associations of the past, that when Aunt +Stanshy entered one of those box pews she seemed to have stepped +aboard a ship and it drifted her at once far, far away among old +friends. On a rainy day, especially, did Aunt Stanshy enjoy the old +church. True, not many would come out, and their heads above the +backs of the pews looked like scattered turtle heads lifted above +the surface of a pond in the woods. Aunt Stanshy was sure to be +there, and, while she heard the rain beating upon the windows, +there was the minister’s voice reverently echoing in prayer, +and Aunt Stanshy had such a sense of protection from this +world’s many storms. On fair-weather Sundays there would be +quite a rush for the old church. The Browns, Pauls, Randalls, +Jamesons, Tapieys, would turn up, smiling, radiant and self-assured +as if they had never been absent from church a single service. +Their manner almost seemed to declare that they had been there day +and night. O, young people, do dare to be rainy-weather +Christians!</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy and Charlie were walking away from the church the +noon of the Sunday after the grand march. At St. John’s, the +Sunday-school followed the morning service.</p> +<p>“Aunty,” said Charlie, nudging his companion, +“here comes somebody.”</p> +<p>That somebody was Mr. Walton, to whom were intrusted the +spiritual interests of the congregation. He was tall, stalwart, +owned a fair complexion, and wore his hair rather long; hair, too, +that would curl, no matter how patiently the brush and comb coaxed +it to be straight and dignified. His blue eyes had a rather sharp +look at first when turned toward you, but you soon felt that they +were kindly, sympathetic, and magnetic. Mr. Walton was very +friendly toward the boys, and for that reason he had a strong hold +on the affections of many little fellows.</p> +<p>“Well, Miss Macomber, I am glad to see you out, and as for +my boy here, I should miss him ever so much if he were not in my +school.”</p> +<p>“I should miss <em>you</em>, if you wasn’t +there,” replied Charlie, anxious to return the +compliment.</p> +<p>“Don’t you know of some boy you could get into the +school, Charlie?” asked Mr. Walton.</p> +<p>“I know of one who belongs to my club.”</p> +<p>“You belong to a club! What is the name of it?”</p> +<p>“The U. T. L. Club.”</p> +<p>“U. T. L.! What does that mean?”</p> +<p>“It is Miss Bertha Barry’s notion, sir,” +explained Aunt Stanshy, with an air that was somewhat critical. +Then she had noticed, or fancied that she had detected, that Mr. +Walton, who was single, rather liked Miss Bertha and her ideas. He +did not seem to notice Aunt Stanshy’s tone, but remarked,</p> +<p>“U. T. L.! That means ‘Up Too +Late!’”</p> +<p>“Ha, ha, guess again,” replied the delighted +Charlie.</p> +<p>“Useful To Learn!”</p> +<p>“No sir.”</p> +<p>“Up With The Lark!”</p> +<p>“You have got one word too many in there. ‘Up +The’ is right.”</p> +<p>“Up The—Lane!”</p> +<p>“That’s where I live,” said Aunt Stanshy, +proudly.</p> +<p>“Up The—”</p> +<p>“It’s ‘Up The Ladder,’ sir,” said +Charlie.</p> +<p>“Well, Up-the-Ladder boys ought to be making advances and +going ahead all the time.”</p> +<p>“That is what teacher says.”</p> +<p>“What do you do in the club?”</p> +<p>“We had a grand march yesterday, and we have a +pammerrammer next Saturday.”</p> +<p>“All the boys in your club go to Sunday-school?”</p> +<p>“All except Tony.”</p> +<p>“Who is Tony?”</p> +<p>“He’s an Italian boy, and his father is away +off.”</p> +<p>“Couldn’t you get him into your class?”</p> +<p>“I might try.”</p> +<p>“I will make the club an offer. If they will get five boys +into school and keep them there two months, I will give them a +banner.”</p> +<p>Charlie was delighted and promised to tell the boys in the +club.</p> +<p>Mr. Walton here left Charlie and Aunt Stanshy, and went to his +home. Aunt Stanshy greatly reverenced any one who led the worship +of the congregation in the old church and encompassed such with a +dignity-fence that was about as high as the famous steeple of old +St. John’s, and that was a landmark for souls at sea.</p> +<p>Then there was a family mystery about Mr. Walton that fascinated +Aunt Stanshy. He lived with his old white-haired mother, and there +were hints and whispers that the two mourned over a once wayward +and now absent member of the family. It leaked out that this was a +son younger than Mr. Walton, and he had married a beautiful foreign +lady whom the clergyman loved also, but had relinquished to the +younger brother. This younger son was off somewhere on the sea, it +was whispered; but he had a child ashore. On stormy days, it was +noticed that the white-haired mother would watch the steeple, which +consisted of a series of diminutive houses rising one above the +other, as if ambitious to fly, but finally relinquishing the task +into the hands or wings rather of a gilded weather-cock. The mother +would watch the pigeons flying into their hiding-places in the +steeple, seeking a refuge from the wild storm, and then her eyes +would be lifted higher to the weather-vane, as if seeking for news +about the sea-wind. Still higher went her thoughts—to +God.</p> +<p>“She’s thinking of <em>him</em>, that son,” +said the observant neighbors, who never knowingly gave up a chance +to see something. To Aunt Stanshy this bit of mystery only made Mr. +Walton all the more interesting.</p> +<p>Mr. Walton thought the next day he would fish for scholars in +the Grimes neighborhood, where Tony lived. Billy and Rick, or +“the governor,” as the club boys more generally called +him now, lived in a long, low-roofed building that had two green +doors. One door led into the home where lived Simes Badger when off +duty at the light house. His wife took care of Tony. In the other +part of the house lived Billy and the “governor” with +Jotham and Ann Grimes. Billy was the child of Jotham and Ann. The +“governor’s” parents lived in Dakota, but kept +him at the East for the sake of an education in its better schools. +It was after dark when Mr. Walton chanced to reach the long, +low-roofed house, and “rap-rap” went his vigorous +knuckles against green door number one.</p> +<p>“Who’s there?” sang out a boyish voice +within.</p> +<p>“Tush, tush, Tony! Wait till I come,” said Simes +from his little bedroom at one side of the kitchen. He was off +duty, Jotham Grimes having gone to the light-house. “It may +be some sailor who wants me,” added Simes. Mr. Walton, having +heard a boy’s voice, concluded its owner must still be at the +door, and he announced his errand.</p> +<p>“It’s rather late to call, but I wanted to know if +you wouldn’t like to come into our Sunday-school?”</p> +<p>“No, your old Sunday-school may go to the bottom of the +sea,” was the gruff reply of the disappointed Simes, who did +not know his caller.</p> +<p>Mr. Walton felt that it might be prudent at that hour to +withdraw, but he did not relinquish his intention to secure Tony; +and Tony finally came to school.</p> +<p>The boy exceedingly interested the minister. “Where have I +seen that face?” asked Mr. Walton, and with bowed head he sat +in his study brooding over the problem, looking intently down as if +trying to make out a pearl at the bottom of the sea.</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_4" name="Ch_4">Chapter IV.</a></h3> +<h2>The Pammerrammer.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>“Auntie, what do you think a couple of standing up collars +would cost?”</p> +<p>“A standing up collar, Charles Pitt! What do you want that +for?”</p> +<p>“Why, we have a pammerrammer to-morrow, and I am the one +to ’splain it; that is, me or the governor.”</p> +<p>“He is gettin’ to be a man!” thought Aunt +Stanshy in sorrow. “A pammerrammer!” she inquired. +“I most get into that. Do you have spectators?”</p> +<p>“O, yes. It is only a cent a ticket, and that will get you +a reserved seat.”</p> +<p>“Then I must take a reserved seat.”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy told the boys she would come whenever they notified +her that the pammerrammer was ready. A lively shout of announcement +soon came from half a dozen heralds up in the barn window, and Aunt +Stanshy dropped her sewing.</p> +<p>“All ready, aunty! Come now,” shouted Charlie.</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy quickened her steps into a run.</p> +<p>“There goes Stanshy,” said Simes Badger, watching +her from Silas Trefethen’s grocery. “Runnin’ +t’ a fire, I guess. She only needs an engine behind her +t’ make the thing complete.”</p> +<p>Flying through the yard, Aunt Stanshy rushed up the barn chamber +stairs. Passing the “sentinel” with the powerful aid of +a cent, she looked around upon the chamber. In its center there was +a stout wooden post, and between this post and a closet, at one end +of the chamber, there had been suspended a dirty, ragged sheet, +which the governor’s aunt had taken from the attic and given +to the club. Across this sheet stretched a panoramic strip of paper +which Aunt Stanshy at once recognized as Charlie’s handiwork. +It took two boys, Sid and Wort, to stand at the two ends of the +curtain and manage the “pammerrammer.” As Sid unrolled +the glorious succession of artistic beauties that Charlie had +sketched, Wort at the other end pulled them along and rolled them +up. In front of the curtain was ranged a plank. A carpenter’s +bench that bordered a wall of the barn supported one end of the +plank, and a barrel the other end. This elevated roost was +denominated “reserved seats,” and all cent admissions +secured “one of the most eligible chances in the Hall,” +so Sid declared. There was a string of sweet little beauties on the +bench, girls from the neighborhood, and among them was little May +Waters, her face one of wonderful vivacity, a kind of panorama in +itself, where the most varied emotions chased one another in rapid +succession. Aunt Stanshy found a sled to sit on, and the +performance began. Gov. Grimes wished to try his hand first at +explaining the pictures. He began, grandiloquently,</p> +<p>“This—this—is a building, no, Faneuil Hall. +The next is a picture of a ship. That is a—”</p> +<p>“Don’t roll her so tight, Wort,” whispered a +voice behind the curtain.</p> +<p>“Monkey!” said the governor, finishing his sentence, +but unfortunately chancing to look toward that sensitive soul, Pip +Peckham.</p> +<p>“I aint,” said Pip.</p> +<p>“Who said you was?” inquired Wort.</p> +<p>“You!” charged Pip, turning to the governor.</p> +<p>“I didn’t.”</p> +<p>“You looked at me.”</p> +<p>“Silence in the audience!” shrieked Sid to the now +jolly spectators.</p> +<p>“You’ve got your end all twisted up, Wort,” +said the governor.</p> +<p>“O dear!” groaned the president.</p> +<p>The straightening out of the last difficulty was effected after +a while, and Gov. Grimes began again: “Here are some big, +black dogs in a melon-patch.”</p> +<p>“Bears, bears!” eagerly whispered Charlie, alarmed +for the reputation of a club that could not tell the difference +between dogs and bears.</p> +<p>“Well, bears, then,” said the governor petulantly, +“and I aint going to be it any more.”</p> +<p>The discomfited lecturer insisted on resigning, and Charlie took +the floor. He knew his old and beloved “pammerrammer” +by heart, and he began promptly where the governor left off.</p> +<p>“Here are some bears in a melon-patch. There’s a +picture of Westminster Abbey, and here’s a boy lifting a girl +over a fence, and here’s a flag from Europe, and here’s +one from some part of Asia or some other place.”</p> +<p>In the midst of Charlie’s glib description there was a +crash. The plank, <em>alias</em> the reserved seats, did not have a +firm support. Its weakness had been noticed, but not remedied.</p> +<p>“Who’s the one to fix the bench?” inquired +Sid.</p> +<p>“The governor,” replied Wort.</p> +<p>But the governor was not one who believed in Aunt +Stanshy’s motto, “Do to-day’s things +to-day.” She was trying to impress it on Charlie, but she +could not be expected to stamp every mind in the club with the +necessity of the injunction.</p> +<p>“One boy is enough for me,” she would say.</p> +<p>The plank had remained firm as long as it could, but several +wriggling children were too much even for the patience of a plank, +and—down it went! Little May Waters dropped at the feet of +Charlie as he was busily “‘splaining.” He +gallantly picked her up and tried to comfort her, and various +members of the club rushed to the rescue of other ladies. It was +concluded now to adjourn the “pammerrammer.”</p> +<p>“Man down in the yard!” called out Wort, who was +“sentinel” when he had nothing else to do. Wort looked +over the edge of the window-sill. About all he could see was an old +hat, and a very bad hat at that.</p> +<p>“Let’s sprinkle him! We can say we only saw a +hat,” and immediately scraping up with his foot a quantity of +hay-seed, he liberally sprinkled the seedy hat. It was like unto +like.</p> +<p>“Now look here,” said Sid, “that was mean. If +your father wore an old hat, how would you like to have a feller +sprinkle hay-seed on it?”</p> +<p>Sid had a good deal of the gentleman about him.</p> +<p>“There he comes! There he comes! Put!” said Wort. A +foot-step could be plainly heard on the stairs, and Wort started +for the closet, again saying, “Put!”</p> +<p>“I am not going to run,” said the governor, with his +usual resoluteness.</p> +<p>“Nor I,” said Sid.</p> +<p>“Nor I,” said Charlie.</p> +<p>“Nor I,” said Billy.</p> +<p>Others declared the same. They all stood their ground, or floor, +rather. The noise on the stairs was continued, and soon a +seed-strewn hat appeared in sight, and then a big head of hair, and +then a man’s body. The boys clustered closely together, and +when the man turned toward them, they saw that the roughly-dressed +man had a roughly featured face, but its expression was kindly.</p> +<p>“He will eat uth up,” whispered Pip, trying to get +behind Billy Grimes. The stranger was not a cannibal though. He +took off his hat, shook it, and said, “If that was an +accident, it’s all right. If any one did it, meaning to do +it, was it just the thing?”</p> +<p>The boys felt the appeal and shook their heads.</p> +<p>“We don’t justify it, and I’m the +president,” said Sid, with a look of importance, “and +no one of us that you see did it.”</p> +<p>“I hope not. Sometimes folks are not lucky, and if any of +your fathers went trampin’ round and couldn’t get work, +you wouldn’t like to have any body throw hay-seed on +him.”</p> +<p>“No, that’s so,” said Charlie. +“It’s too bad!”</p> +<p>The man turned to go down stairs.</p> +<p>“I—I guess my aunt could give you a job. She wanted +somebody this morning to saw her wood.”</p> +<p>“Did she? Where is she?”</p> +<p>“I’ll show you,” and Charlie’s obliging +drumsticks followed the man down stairs. Then he went into the +kitchen and made an appeal for the stranger.</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll give him the job,” replied Aunt +Stanshy.</p> +<p>In a minute more the man was at the wood-pile driving Aunt +Stanshy’s saw rapidly through a stick of pine.</p> +<p>The club had been looking out of the window while Charlie +interceded for the man. When he joined his clubmates some one +exclaimed, “What’s that?”</p> +<p>It was a noise from the closet into which Wort had plunged, or, +rather, a noise that started there, for it was continued down into +the story below, even as the noise of a rushing snow-slide along a +roof begins at the ridgepole, but ends on the ground beneath the +eaves.</p> +<p>“It’s Wort!” said Charlie, excitedly. “O +dear! he’s gone.”</p> +<p>“Gone where?” inquired Sid. “Into the bowels +of the earth?”</p> +<p>Charlie’s answer was to rush down stairs, followed by the +club in a very hasty and undignified way. There, at the end of a +long spout that terminated eight inches from the floor, was a +couple of good-sized legs squirming to get out. Then Wort’s +voice was heard, coming from the interior of the box, “Let me +out! Let me out!”</p> +<p>“Can’t you <em>get</em> out?” asked the +governor.</p> +<p>“No, no! Let me out! Let me out—quick!”</p> +<p>It was even so. Wort must be <em>let</em> out.</p> +<p>“O, Aunt Stanshy, Wort—Wort—is in the +fodder-box, and can’t get out!” shrieked Charlie at the +open kitchen window.</p> +<p>“What under the sun—” And, without a word +more, Aunt Stanshy left the clothes she was washing and rushed into +the yard.</p> +<p>“Come here, mister, and bring your saw,” she said to +the man at the wood-pile, “and, Charlie, bring a hammer from +the nail-box on the entry-shelf!”</p> +<p>The man at the wood-pile rushed after Aunt Stanshy, saw in hand, +while Charlie hurriedly brought the hammer.</p> +<p>“Now saw into that box and knock away with the hammer, +mister. You see, Silas Trefethen wanted to hire my barn last +winter, and thought he would put in what he called a fodder-box +running down from the closet above to this floor, and then intended +to knock the closet away when he had carried the box down here, +thinking he might save some steps that way, but he was taken sick +and the closet was left there; and that closet floor, I suppose, +wasn’t left just right.”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy was talking while the man was sawing and hammering +away. He plied his tools vigorously, and soon let Wort out into the +full light of day once more. The boys shouted and laughed also as +Wort wriggled forward into liberty. He looked up, but seeing that +his liberator was the man he had seeded, he dropped his head, and, +refusing to look again, slunk away with an air that indicated a +strong desire to find another box where he could shut himself up +for the present.</p> +<p>The man concluded who his enemy was, and he said, “I guess +we are even now.”</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_5" name="Ch_5">Chapter V.</a></h3> +<h2>The Nation’s Birthday.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>“The great thing on the Fourth is to have a good +time,” said the president.</p> +<p>“No, the great thing,” said the practical governor, +“is to be sure and wake up in season.”</p> +<p>“That’s so,” chimed several voices in +chorus.</p> +<p>“How shall we fix it?” asked Pip.</p> +<p>“Tie your toe to the bed-post,” said some one.</p> +<p>“Put a lot of stones in your bed,” said Sid, +“and then you can’t sleep easy.”</p> +<p>“Two sleep together and tie their toes to one +another,” said the governor.</p> +<p>Objections were found against all these plans, as they had been +ineffectually tried by various members of the club.</p> +<p>“Go and holler under every boy’s window,” said +Billy Grimes, with the air of one who had made an important +discovery. “I will holler under your’s, Pip,” was +his magnificent offer.</p> +<p>“But who will be the feller to go to your window?” +asked Sid.</p> +<p>“Why—why—<em>you</em>.”</p> +<p>“Well, who will holler under my window?” said +Sid.</p> +<p>“I,” said Wort.</p> +<p>“And under yours?” continued the president.</p> +<p>“I,” said Juggie.</p> +<p>“And who under Juggle’s?”</p> +<p>“I,” said Tony.</p> +<p>“And who under Tony’s?”</p> +<p>“I,” said Charlie.</p> +<p>“And who under Charlie’s?”</p> +<p>That was a problem.</p> +<p>“Aunt Thanthy,” suggested Pip.</p> +<p>“Aunt Stanshy is going out visiting,” remarked +Charlie.</p> +<p>There was a very sad pause. Despair was on the faces of the +club. A happy thought came to Charlie. “Some one has got to +sit up and wake the next one, and I will. I can take a nap the next +forenoon, you know.”</p> +<p>“Three cheers for Charlie!” called out Wort, and +they were cordially given. It was arranged on the spot that Charlie +should sit up. If Aunt Stanshy had been at home she would have +vetoed the plan, but, purposing to be absent the night before the +Fourth she had engaged Silas Junkins to stay with Charlie and guard +the premises. Charlie had no difficulty in obtaining Silas’s +consent to the plan, and not only his consent, but also his +co-operation. In the main entry of Aunt Stanshy’s house was a +tall, old-fashioned clock. It was an aged household servant, and +had done duty in the entry many years. It always stood in one +place, one particular corner in the rear of the entry. It is a +wonder its voice did not show any sign of collapse, as it had +called off the hours so many years. It would not have been strange +if it had lost its patience. But uncomplainingly, even cheerily and +without any sign of weakness, it told you what time it was. Charlie +sometimes heard it in the night, and then it sounded like, +“Cheer up! cheer up!” its pleasant voice halting on the +“cheer,” and then emphasizing the “up.” It +divided all its peals into two such notes, and when Charlie heard +it strike one o’clock the effect was quite enlivening as be +lay there in his dark little chamber. At an hour earlier, when it +sounded twelve “Cheer ups,” what a joyous procession of +notes that was! It was like a watchman’s voice ringing out +“All’s well!” twelve times. It occurred to +Charlie that he might occupy a chair in the entry, and, if at all +inclined to go to sleep, the striking of the clock would keep him +awake. Silas Junking moved a table into the entry for Charlie, and +set a lamp on it. At nine Silas, who enjoyed very much a large +quantity of sleep, went to his rest in a little bedroom on the same +floor with the entry.</p> +<p>“You can step into my room and wake me, Charlie, if any +thing happens.”</p> +<p>“O, I sha’n’t need to,” was the +watchboy’s very emphatic reply.</p> +<p>“Well, good-night!”</p> +<p>“Good-night!”</p> +<p>“Now all I’ve got to do,” soliloquized +Charlie, “is just to keep awake, and it is a great deal +better than to go to sleep with a string tying your big toe to the +bed-post. Hark, there is some one firing off a gun! Wont I wake +’em with a blow on my horn!” Here he saw himself, as he +visited house after house, arousing boy after boy. It would be like +the falling of a row of bricks, where the only need is to push over +the first one and the whole set will follow. Every thing, though, +depended on the fall of the first brick. Would Charlie do his +part?</p> +<p>“I’ll take this story-book about Indians, giants, +and fairies,” he said, “into the entry, and that will +keep me awake splendid.”</p> +<p>It was a book startling enough, and the trouble was that it was +too startling.</p> +<p>After looking at the book a while, Charlie’s mind was so +peopled with ferocious giants, Indians on the war-path, +fire-breathing dragons, and ghostly genii, that he transferred them +to all the corners of the room, and especially to that receptacle +of shadows, the space under the table, the very place where his +legs were—ugh! Charlie did not like to look at the book, and, +dared not, at the forms under the table! He shut the book and he +shut his eyes. Hark, the clock was saying “Cheer up!” +and somebody in the lane fired a pistol that seemed to say, +“Wake up!” Yes, yes, that was all right, Charlie +thought, but—but—he guessed he would close his eyes +just this once—and close them just this once—and close +them just this once—and in a few minutes the champion +watchman was fast asleep! In an hour the clock struck again, and +its voice seemed harsh, as if saying, “Young man, young man, +wake up!” The notes had no startling effect on Charlie. +Indeed, he heard them only as a very sweet, musical voice. The +pistols and cannons going off in Water Street reached his ear as +mild little pops. Things went on in this way till morning. About +five Charlie dropped on the floor the book of Indians and dragons, +that patiently had been resting in his lap all night. It roused +him. He partially opened his eyes. Before him was an opened door +that led into the parlor, and, sitting in his chair, he could see +the parlor windows, whose curtains were up and whose panes were +brightened by the light in the eastern sky. What did he see at +those windows? Had some of the Indians, imagined to be under +Charlie’s table, gone to the outside of the windows, there to +look in, grinning at him and shaking their head-feathers at a boy +stupidly sitting near a table on which was a lighted lamp? Charlie +rubbed his eyes for a better look, then rubbed again and again, +and—and—were those Indians shouting, “Charlie, +how are you?” He now sprang to his feet, fully awake, and +there were several members of the club, their faces streaked with +red chalk, their caps ornamented with all kinds of feathers, +their—Charlie did not take another look at their decorations! +He only glanced at the clock, exclaimed, “Five o’clock! +Whew!” seized his cap, and rushed out-doors.</p> +<p>“Wake up, Charlie! Wake up, Charlie!” was the +greeting of his comrades.</p> +<p>“Whew, fellers, aint this cheeky?” inquired +Charlie.</p> +<p>“I should think it was—in you. Did your nap refresh +you?” asked Sid.</p> +<p>“Why didn’t you come round and wake me up?” +said the governor.</p> +<p>“And me?” said Billy.</p> +<p>“And me?” said Pip.</p> +<p>“And me?” said Tony.</p> +<p>“You see—you see,” replied Charlie, “I +overslept.”</p> +<p>“That is,” said Sid, “you slept <em>over</em> +the table. Three cheers for Charlie, our faithful watchman! I +nominate Charlie for <em>honorary</em> sentinel.”</p> +<p>The cheers were delivered, and Charlie was declared by the +president to have been unanimously chosen honorary sentinel.</p> +<p>“You see, boys,” said Sid, patronizingly, “I +don’t know what would have become of you if it hadn’t +been for <em>me</em>. My big brother Nehemiah was out banging away +all night, and he got tired and came home about three, and said to +me, ‘You in bed now? I thought you were going to get up +several hours earlier than the lark.’ Well—after a +while—I dressed quick, I tell you, and then I went and woke +our governor, and Billy, and so on.”</p> +<p>Sid omitted to say how long that “after a while” +might be, and that his brother aroused him several times, and +finally he got into his clothes. Nobody, however, was disposed to +ask questions, as every one had slept later than he intended.</p> +<p>“Knights of the White Shield!” suddenly shouted Sid, +“three good ringers on your bugles for our honorary member, +Miss Stanshy Macomber? Here she comes!”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy was now returning from her visit, having concluded +to make an early start for home, feeling somewhat anxious for its +safety on “the glorious Fourth.” The club separated +into two ranks, and, as Aunt Stanshy passed along, each one of the +“knights” touched his feathery head-gear, while every +horn sent out as ringing a blast as possible.</p> +<p>“Massy!” cried Aunt Stanshy. “My ears!” +Then she retreated to her home as quickly as possible lest another +salute be tendered her.</p> +<p>What a day that was! What liberty! It seemed as if those +patriots in the Up-the-Ladder Club had been oppressed by a terrible +yoke of bondage, domestic especially, but it was all lifted and +thrown off that day. There was freedom—to blow horns, freedom +to fire crackers, freedom to “holler,” freedom to crack +torpedoes, freedom to buy pea-nuts, buns, ancient figs and dates +and abominable cheap candy, freedom to make one’s self as +dirty, tired—and cross the next day—as possible! O, +blessed liberty to boys who had patiently borne the yoke three +hundred and sixty-four days, ever since the last Fourth! After a +forenoon of miscellaneous and multiplied joys, the club planned to +spend an afternoon in the woods. Emptying their pockets, they found +that, altogether, they could raise eleven cents, and this was laid +out in the judicious expenditure of as many buns as possible.</p> +<p>“It is proposed, White Shields,” said Sid, +“this afternoon that we spend a little time playing, a little +time in bun-lunching, and then we will have a raft-race on the +water near the railroad track.”</p> +<p>This programme was carried out in part successfully. The games +concluded with success, there was a successful time in eating, as +far as the number of buns would permit. Then there was a little +speech-making.</p> +<p>“I understand,” said the president, as he concluded +his remarks, “that the rights of one of our number have been +interfered with. He has been forbidden to fire off any more +crackers, and must confine himself to caps.”</p> +<p>This announcement was followed by groans and hisses, even as +thunder and lightning come after the black summer cloud. The person +who had lost his freedom and been compelled to return to slavery +was Charlie.</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy had said to him at the dinner-table, “I +don’t want you to fire any more crackers to-day.”</p> +<p>Charlie’s chin went down.</p> +<p>“Why?”</p> +<p>“Because there is danger of setting fire to something. The +wind is warm and dry.”</p> +<p>Charlie’s chin now went up.</p> +<p>“It was warm and dry, but the wind has just changed, and +it is coming in from the sea, and it is damp and misty.”</p> +<p>“But, that wont put out fires.”</p> +<p>Charlie’s chin now dropped again and dropped to stay. He +went up stairs and, having a knack at rhyming, wrote a string of +lines and put them in his pocket. Sid had found out the contents of +Charlie’s pocket when it had been emptied in behalf of the +bun fund, and at the “collation” in the woods, he +concluded his speech with these words: “I learn that the Hon. +Charles Pitt Macomber, who has been forbidden to fire off crackers, +has some poetry, and I will ask him to read it I would only add +that freemen must stand for their rights.” Cheers were now +given for “the poet of the day.” Charlie stood up and +read these lines, which were subsequently found by Aunt Stanshy in +the pocket of his pants, for these needed the help of her needle +after the great and fatiguing duties of the Fourth. The name and +age of the author, Charlie had been particular to place over the +poetry. We give the lines exactly as they appear in the original +now in our possession.</p> +<h4>THE GLORIOUS FOURTH.</h4> +<p class="cen">By C.P. MACOMBER, (nine years.)</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Hurrah for the Glorious Fourth of July,</p> +<p>When sky-rockets mount to the sky,</p> +<p>When fire-crackers are whizzing so fine,</p> +<p>And all is Majesty Grandeur an’ sublime.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“If I could have the whole day to myself,</p> +<p>I would fire off crackers all day like an elf,</p> +<p>The Giant Torpedoes would fall to the ground,</p> +<p>And all would come down with a terrible sound.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“What good are little paper caps?</p> +<p>I would not give two ginger snaps,</p> +<p>They do not make a noise worth hearing,</p> +<p>But fire-crackers, the ladies are fearing.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>If Charlie should write this again, he would change the above, +but it is too late to alter now, and we give it as preserved in our +note-book. Furious applause followed this ebullition of poetic +genius.</p> +<p>The collation was followed by the raft-race. The ditch that ran +beside the railroad embankment widened in one place to forty feet. +Half a dozen logs were here floating. The keeper of the great seal +had brought with him a hammer and a handful of nails, and seeing on +his way several strips of board, he had picked them up and now +nailed the six logs together in pairs, making three rafts.</p> +<p>“There will now be a race between our first treasurer, our +sentinel, and the keeper of the great seal,” pompously +announced Sid. “This will be the first race. I expected Tony +and the governor would compete, but they have gone home. The Fourth +was too much for them.”</p> +<p>They both began to be sick after the collation. Rick, with his +usual pertinacity, wanted to “stick it out,” but his +feelings overcame him, and he adjourned. He and Tony had eaten too +much green-tinted candy. The participants in the raft-race were +preparing for the contest, Charlie having already boarded his craft +and pushed off into position, when a cry from Pip arrested the +attention of all and made them think of something besides +rafting.</p> +<p>“Down-townieth!” he shrieked, and pointed up the +railroad embankment. There stood a stout boy whom Charlie +recognized immediately as one of the evil force that raided on the +club the day of the grand march! It was Tim Tyler, one of the +hardest boys in Seamont, aged fifteen. Back of him was a smaller +boy, but a competitor in vice, Bobby Landers. How many others might +soon show themselves, no one could say, but the down-townies were +clannish and loved to turn out in crowds, and to the club the +probability appeared to be, that others would speedily rise up and +charge along the railroad track. Sid Waters, who had urged freemen +to stand for their rights, was now turning on his heel. He headed +for a fence that separated the railroad lot from the woods. It was +evident that the first club race would be, not on the water, but +the land, and that Sid Waters’s legs would take an unexpected +but active part in it. Other legs followed his, and this race of +freemen for their rights became a general one. At first, it was not +positively certain who would reach the fence first and so beat in +the race, but Sid’s alacrity in starting was so great that he +gained the prize, or would have taken it, had any been offered. The +others though made very good time, and showed what freemen could do +when hard pushed by their oppressors. Charlie, alas! was too far +from shore to share in their good fortune, and, besides, Tim Tyler +was on hand to object to any such movement.</p> +<p>“Don’t be in too much of a hurry to leave,” he +said provokingly to Charlie, and seizing a pole left by one of the +retreating club, pushed off the raft that Charlie had shoved near +the shore.</p> +<p>“Leave me alone,” growled Charlie.</p> +<p>“I have, haven’t I? I don’t see how any one +could be much more aloner than you are off there.”</p> +<p>Charlie looked like a jar of pickles, a keg of gunpowder, and a +small thunder-cloud combined. He was so angry that he could now say +nothing. When Tim had repeatedly pushed Charlie’s vessel back +from the shore, Charlie as obstinately pushing toward it again, Tim +cried out, “Say, I will make you an offer. Do you see +that?”</p> +<p>He pulled out of his pocket a dirty bottle and held it up.</p> +<p>“There, some of the best beer made anywhere is in that. If +you will take a swaller, I’ll let you come ashore.”</p> +<p>Charlie could hardly contain himself now. He was scarcely able +to sputter out this defiance, “When you catch me tasting that +stuff, you’ll know it!”</p> +<p>“O jest hear him, Bob!” said Tim, mockingly. +“I s’pose this young sailor, who don’t know +enough about sailin’ to get his craft ashore, has jined a +temperance society.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Charlie, “I belong to Mr. +Walton’s at St. John’s.”</p> +<p>“What saint is that?”</p> +<p>The wrathful Charlie gave Tim a look of contempt and turned +away.</p> +<p>“O, so he wont turn his pretty face this way, wont +he?”</p> +<p>Having said this, Tim changed his tone and shouted fiercely, +“You’ve got to look this way, sir. Bob, you get on that +other raft and I will take this one here, and we will catch that +young saint.”</p> +<p>The two unoccupied rafts were immediately brought into service. +Never did an innocent merchantman fleeing from two pirates make a +harder exertion than did Charlie to get away from Tim and Bob. They +gained on him, though, rapidly.</p> +<p>“There they come,” thought Charlie, giving one look +back at the dirty, saucy buccaneers. Tim had now reached the middle +of the little pond when a thing greatly in his favor proved to be a +serious thing against him, and that was the strength of his push. +The fastenings of the log-raft were not equal to any violent +pressure upon them, and suddenly they gave way and the logs +separated. Tim’s legs separated with them till they could +part no farther, and then he tried to spring from one log to the +other. Alas for him, he put his foot in the wrong place, and that +wrong place was the water! Down he went into as thorough a bath as +ever a young rascal got in this world. The water was not over his +head, and he was soon on his feet, but the dip had been complete +enough to satisfy the most vindictive members of the Up-the-Ladder +Club, and Tim was spitting and sputtering, then spitting and +sputtering again, trying to clear month, eyes, nose, ears, of the +unwelcome, dirty ditch-water.</p> +<p>“Give—us—a—hand, Bob,” he +gasped.</p> +<p>Charlie did not stay to see any further developments, but pushed +for the shore, safely reaching it, and then made his way to the +fence, climbing it and gaining the wood-lot. In the meantime, the +other members of the club had halted and were consulting together. +It was Juggie who arrested their flight. “It is too +bad,” he said, “to leave Charlie.”</p> +<p>That remark detained Billy, and then Sid, Wort, and Pip +stopped.</p> +<p>Sid laughed and said, “My father has been in the army and +he would call this the flying artillery. So you see it is all +right.”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid it’s all wrong,” said Billy, +“to leave Charlie behind.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Wort, “to run away from a member +of the club.”</p> +<p>There was now a general feeling of indignation toward any member +of the club that had deserted Charlie, if that member could be +found, as each one’s motive had not been to desert another, +but the prudent impulse to save himself.</p> +<p>Sid was among the fiercest to shout and the most furious to +propose. “Charlie deserted!” he said. +“Who’s deserted Charlie? That wont do! Back, fellers, +to the rescue!”</p> +<p>A brave, sympathetic shout arose. A few minutes ago Sid would +have been afraid of it as something that might attract the +enemy’s attention, but he calculated that they must now be at +a safe distance from the down-townies.</p> +<p>“Let’s make a flank movement on the enemy,” +said the president.</p> +<p>“What ith that?” asked Pip.</p> +<p>“Why, not so much to go <em>at</em> them as to go about +them and take them unawares in the rear.”</p> +<p>This mode of attack, which did not necessitate the actual facing +of the enemy, was very popular and took wonderfully with the club. +To Sid, in particular, it was a very agreeable mode. He boldly +headed this movement. He intended to go off in a direction where no +enemy would ever be met, but in his ignorance of the woods, he took +a course that would have led the club back to the pond, and it was +an agreeable thing for Charlie that he did, as that fugitive from +the pirates soon was met.</p> +<p>“Hullo, there he is!” shouted Wort.</p> +<p>“Who?” asked Sid, trembling, and fearful that it +might be Tim Taylor.</p> +<p>“Here I am, boys,” shouted Charlie.</p> +<p>“Ho, to the rescue!” cried Sid, now taking long +leaps forward. “Charlie, I rescue thee!”</p> +<p>“We are coming to fank de enemy,” said Juggie, +anxious to have a hand in winning the laurels now coming so rapidly +to the Knights of the White Shield.</p> +<p>“Going to surround the enemy,” exclaimed the warlike +Sid, “and also rescue Charlie, but—but—we might +as well go back now. Did you have a hard time, Charlie?”</p> +<p>“I did have a time, I tell you,” and Charlie eagerly +told the story of his adventures.</p> +<p>“How we will go back, boys,” said the president, +“and go round home through the woods.”</p> +<p>“No, sir,” declared Billy, who had somewhat of his +cousin’s resoluteness; “I’m going home the way we +came, and if any body stops me, it is his lookout.”</p> +<p>The heroic sentiment was loudly applauded, and the club +returning valiantly stormed the railroad fence and carried +it—a remarkable feat considering that there was nobody on it +to oppose them.</p> +<p>Billy Grimes in his earnestness even brought down the top-rail +with him.</p> +<p>“Stop, fellers!” warned Sid. “The +enemy!” Lifting their eyes to the top of the high railroad +embankment, they saw Tim in the act of chastising Bob. It was +afterward ascertained that Tim was rewarding Bob for not helping +him more efficiently at the time of the raft accident. Tim +completed the bestowal of this reward, and then noticing the club, +he shook his fist at them. He did not linger, but followed sullenly +by Bob, passed down the other side of the embankment. The club did +not find out whether this was an intended retreat, or simply the +taking of a convenient route to reach home. They put their own +construction on it, and the movement was judged to be “a +shameful retreat by the enemy.” Billy led off in a brave, +determined charge up the embankment—Sid shouting, +“Hurrah! Glory for us! Those getting the battle-field are +victors, you know!”</p> +<p>Nobody disputed this, and the valiant knights continued their +triumphant advance to their very homes.</p> +<p>The Fourth was drawing to a close. The sun was breaking out +through the clouds that had covered the heavens, and so brilliant +was the outburst of colors, it seemed as if the folds of an immense +star-spangled banner had been suddenly let loose in the western +sky. It very soon paled though. The clouds thickened everywhere and +the easterly wind that had been blowing all the afternoon, bringing +occasional mist, now drove to land a blinding fog. Finally it began +to rain, and yet gently, as if reluctant to spoil any festivities +of the Fourth. Gathering up all their pyrotechnic resources, it was +found that the club boys could muster a few pin-wheels, five Roman +candles, and a “flower-pot.” Most of these had been +stored in the barn, but were now moved out-doors and taken to the +shelter of a stout leafy maple by the side of the lane.</p> +<p>“The rain wont trouble us here,” said the president. +“Where is Charlie?”</p> +<p>“He has gone to get his fire-works,” replied Billy +Grimes. “He left them in the house and it is locked, for his +Aunt Stanshy has gone out, and he’s waiting for her, I +guess.”</p> +<p>“We had better begin, fellers, and he will come soon. The +rain is coming,” said Sid, warned by a big drop that glancing +through the branches smote him on the nose. Pin-wheels, candles, +and the other attraction were pronounced a success, though their +discharge was hastened on account of the thickening rain.</p> +<p>The boys separated, tired and sleepy, sorry to part with the +Fourth, and yet secretly glad that there was such a thing as +“bed.”</p> +<p>“Whar’s Charlie,” asked Juggie, as the boys +separated. No one knew. “Good-bye, Charlie!” shouted +one after the other, and all hastened to their homes.</p> +<p>Charlie was where he had been the last twenty minutes, occupying +a seat out in the porch at the back door and waiting for Aunt +Stanshy. He had fallen asleep, so thoroughly tired was this +patriotic young American, and the day for him was ending as it +began—in a chair. Aunt Stanshy came at last, feeling her way +through the shadows in the porch and striving to reach the back +door, whose key she carried.</p> +<p>“What’s this?” she said, running against the +sleeper. “If it isn’t that boy! And here the rain has +been working round into the porch and it is coming on him! If you +don’t take cold, Charles Pitt Macomber, then I am mistaken! +Wake up, wake up!”</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_6" name="Ch_6">Chapter VI.</a></h3> +<h2>A Sick Patriot.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>The next morning, Aunt Stanshy was stirring at the usual hour, +and her usual hour in summer was five. She did not generally expect +to see Charlie down stairs until half past six. This morning, Aunt +Stanshy; looked up at the clock on the high mantel-piece and saw +that it was seven, then half after seven, then eight, and half +after eight; but all this time there was neither sound nor sight of +Charlie.</p> +<p>“Massy, where is that boy? I thought I would let him +sleep, he was so tired, but he ought to be around now,” +reflected Aunt Stanshy.</p> +<p>She opened the door that led up to his chamber and slowly +mounted the steep, narrow, yellow stairs, turning to the right into +Charlie’s sanctum. A turn to the left would have taken her to +her own room. Peeping into Charlie’s room, she saw the boy +fast asleep on the bed. Stealing softly across the bare floor and +reaching the red and yellow home-braided rug before his bed, she +looked down on the sleeping Charlie. A smile parted his lips, and +be murmured something unintelligible to Aunt Stanshy. Then she laid +her hand on his head, giving a little start.</p> +<p>“That boy took cold last night, and is a bit feverish. +I’ll let him lie here a spell longer.”</p> +<p>Saying this, she was about to turn away, when Charlie’s +eyes opened.</p> +<p>“That you—you, aunty?”</p> +<p>“Yes; why?”</p> +<p>“I thought it was a dream. I had a dream, and thought we +gave the down-townies an awful scare.”</p> +<p>“You did? Was that what you were smiling at? I mean just +now.”</p> +<p>“I guess so. And then I believe we were going to give +three cheers.”</p> +<p>“Well, do you feel like getting up?”</p> +<p>“Y-e-s.”</p> +<p>He rose on his elbows, but sank back again.</p> +<p>“I guess, if you have no objection, aunty, I will lie a +little longer.”</p> +<p>“I guess you had better, for you took cold last night out +in the porch. Would you like to take your breakfast in bed, and +have my little table that I lend to people who are sick in +bed?”</p> +<p>“O, yes.”</p> +<p>“And would you like to have a piece of toast, a little +tea, and an orange?”</p> +<p>“O, yes. You are the best aunty in the world.”</p> +<p>“Am I, dear?”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy was not very demonstrative, so that this +“dear” was exceedingly precious to the warm-hearted +Charlie, as was also a small hug that she gave him. While she was +preparing his breakfast Charlie lay quietly in bed, and heard the +sound of the rain on the slanting roof. To a tired boy in bed, and +longing to have some excuse for absence from school, what music is +sweeter than the sound of rain on the roof? Let it be a real +north-easter sweeping in from the sea, pushing along a fleet of +many clouds packed with a heavy cargo of rain, and, as it advances, +let this wind sound many big, hoarse trumpets all about the houses +and barns, up and down the streets! An organ in church played by +Prof. Jump-up-and-down is nothing compared with such a +north-easter; Charlie heard the grand music of the wind. By and by +he heard Aunt Stanshy’s step on the stairs. She came slowly +up, up, and then Charlie saw her turning from the entry into his +room, bringing the sick-table and Charlie’s breakfast She +bolstered him up in bed, putting two or three fat pillows behind +his back. Then she put the little sick-table before him. One side +had been hollowed in, so that an invalid could draw it close about +his body. Charlie was now the invalid to do that thing. What tea! +what toast! what an orange!</p> +<p>“Now that you have some strength, do you want to dress and +then come down and sit with me in the sitting-room and see me +iron?” asked Aunt Stanshy, after breakfast.</p> +<p>“O, yes, and not go to school?”</p> +<p>“No school to-day, when that cold is on you.”</p> +<p>Charlie crawled into his clothes and went down stairs to the +sitting-room. Aunt Stanshy was ironing. She generally did her +ironing in the sitting-room, as the kitchen was very small, and, on +a hot day, it was so hot there that one felt like sizzling at the +touch of water.</p> +<p>“Here are some picture-books for you.”</p> +<p>“O, thanks, thanks, aunty!”</p> +<p>“One of those picture-books is about Indian +wars.”</p> +<p>“Did you ever see an Injun?”</p> +<p>“Not the raving, tearing, tomahawk kind.”</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t want to see that one.”</p> +<p>“Several years ago sort of tame ones used to come round +and have baskets to sell. My great-great-grandmother had quite an +adventure with the real kind once.”</p> +<p>“O, tell it to me!”</p> +<p>Opening his eyes to that peculiar width appropriate to the +hearing of an Indian story, Charlie intently listened.</p> +<p>“My great-great-grandmother was all alone one day in the +house, for the men-folks had gone to market or somewhere. She +happened to be looking out of the window, when she saw an Indian +looking over the fence. What a customer! He was an ugly-looking +crittur, I don’t doubt. What could she do, for he might be +tomahawking her in less than no time? Wimmin folks, in them days, +were not like Miss Persnips, that keeps the little +thread-and-needle store on the corner, without any snap to +’em. My great-great-grandmother just tore round that room at +a lively rate. She slammed the shutters, she banged about the +chairs. Then she pretended that there were lots of men-folks in the +house, and she kept calling to Tom, Bill, Jerry, Nehemiah. O, she +had a string of ’em, all on her tongue’s end! I +don’t know but she pointed a gun out of the winder, +man-fashion. What did that crittur do but gather up his traps and +walk off as harmless as a bumble-bee when his sting is gone. +I’ve heard with my own eyes my grandmother tell that story +about her grandmother.”</p> +<p>“Heard her with your eyes?”</p> +<p>“Of course not! With my ears, ears. Where are yours, for +pity’s sake? There is an old garrison-house on the other side +of the river, and I will show it to you some time, or I will show +you what is left. They have built over the garrison-house and back +of it, making a farm-house of it, but there is something still to +be seen.”</p> +<p>“What a blessed old aunty!” thought Charlie. And the +wind, what grand music it made! The chimney seemed to be a big +bass-viol that this north-easter played on.</p> +<p>At noon Aunt Stanshy said, “What will you have for +dinner?”</p> +<p>“May I order it, the way I did at a saloon in Boston last +summer? May I write what I want on paper, and put it on the +table?”</p> +<p>“Yes, if orderin’ will make it taste better, and it +seems to affect some folks’ vittles that way.”</p> +<p>So Charlie and Aunt Stanshy “played saloon.” He +wrote his order on a slip of paper, and left it on the table for +her inspection while he went up stairs. Directing her spectacles +toward it, she read, with some amazement, this request:</p> +<p>“Please bring me for dinner, a pickle Aunt Stanshy, would +be what you know nice to toast.”</p> +<p>“Toasted pickle!” exclaimed Aunt Stanshy, in +alarm.</p> +<p>Charlie had now returned to the sitting-room.</p> +<p>“You don’t mean, Charles Pitt, a toasted +pickle!”</p> +<p>“Why, no; ha! ha! There are two things on that paper. I +said, ‘Please bring me for dinner, Aunt Stanshy, what you +know to toast.’ That is on one side, and on the other, +‘A pickle would be nice,’ and I see now that you could +read the words straight across, and it would mean what you say; ha! +ha! I don’t expect a pickle, of course, for I am sick, you +know.”</p> +<p>“O!”</p> +<p>She did not laugh. She was rather mortified to think she had not +read the order aright. The noblest natures have their infirmities. +Afterward, being ashamed of herself because she did not take +pleasantly this unintended joke, she manifested her penitence by +getting up an extra dinner for Charlie. There was more toast, and +even of a finer quality. There was another orange, and there was +some jelly that Aunt Stanshy took the pains to buy at Miss +Persnips’s store. This was a sweet but thin-voiced little +woman, who sold a variety of things in a store on the corner of the +lane and Water Street.</p> +<p>“It is nice to be sick, Aunt Stanshy.”</p> +<p>“Do you think so?”</p> +<p>“Yes, just a grain sick.”</p> +<p>It was so pleasant to be in the warm, comfortable sitting-room +and watch the dreary weather out in the lane. The back side of the +house butted on the lane, no fence intervening. Aunt Stanshy had no +objection to such a close contact, but rather liked it, declaring +it to be “social.” She did not favor, though, the +sociability that drunken sailors manifested several times when +going from the saloons on Water Street down to their vessels at the +wharf in which the lane ended. They would stagger against the +house, pushing one another and bombarding it. Aunt Stanshy was on +hand, though. A pail of freshly-drawn water, Arctic cold, and from +an upper window, administered freely to the offenders, had been +known to produce a healthy effect. Aunt Stanshy’s remedies +for various troubles might be vigorous, but they were generally +effective. There was not much passing in the lane, that stormy day. +A fisherman, in an oil-skin suit, went by, trundling a wheel-barrow +of fish to a store in town. At noon, somebody else appeared.</p> +<p>“There’s Mr. Walton,” said Aunt Stanshy.</p> +<p>“And there’s Tony with him,” said Charlie.</p> +<p>“Where’s his father?”</p> +<p>“Tony says he is in Europe.”</p> +<p>“He the one that people say is an Italian, +and—and—nobody knows what he is up to?”</p> +<p>“That’s the one, aunty.”</p> +<p>The minister and Tony, hand in hand, passed out of sight.</p> +<p>“This is the kind of day when Mr. Walton’s mother +will be watching the weather, looking up at the vane. People say +that she has a great deal to say about the sea, and takes a great +interest in sailors.”</p> +<p>“What for?”</p> +<p>“Because they say she has a son somewhere at +sea.”</p> +<p>“And don’t any one know where he is +really?”</p> +<p>“No; and they have hinted and suspected and guessed and +done every thing, except ask old Miss Walton right out, but they +can’t find out a thing. She’s close as a clam in this +matter.”</p> +<p>By and by there appeared in the lane a drunken man. As he +staggered along he was exposed to all the pitiless pelting of the +wild north east rain, and moved away like a dark, forlorn +shadow.</p> +<p>“Poor fellow!” the sympathizing Charlie exclaimed. +“Who’s that, I wonder?”</p> +<p>“Where?”</p> +<p>“A drunken man in the lane.”</p> +<p>“If people would only take the water inside and the rum +outside, sort of turnin’ things round, it would be much +better, better,” said Aunt Stanshy, going to the window. She +gave one look and came back to her ironing. Charlie thought he +heard her sigh. He had already noticed that Aunt Stanshy never made +fun of drunken people.</p> +<p>“Who is it?” he asked.</p> +<p>She did not answer, but taking up her flat-iron again, pounded +the clothes with it vigorously, as if trying to call attention from +herself to her work.</p> +<p>“Is she crying?” thought Charlie.</p> +<p>As if wet with her tears, her spectacles gleamed sharply. The +muscles of her arms swelled as she pounded the innocent sheet +before her, and Charlie was reluctant to ask again. For some time +there was silence, the only interrupting sound being Aunt +Stanshy’s pound—pound—pound. Charlie sat in his +chair, looking steadily out upon the somber, dripping rain.</p> +<p>“Don’t you want to play something?”</p> +<p>It was Aunt Stanshy speaking. A troubled look on her face had +passed away and she was ironing quietly again.</p> +<p>“Yes;” said Charlie, “you—you +sick?”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy gave no answer to this, but asked again, +“Don’t you want to play?”</p> +<p>“Play what?”</p> +<p>“Boat.”</p> +<p>“Boat! how!”</p> +<p>“O make believe, you know.”</p> +<p>Charlie thought in silence.</p> +<p>“You lend me a box, aunty?”</p> +<p>“Yes, certainly.”</p> +<p>“And that little broom you sweep with?”</p> +<p>The amateur ship-carpenter went to work.</p> +<p>“There is my mast,” said Charlie, securing the broom +to the bottom of the box which he had turned over. “Now I +must have sails. It is going to be a monitor, too, like what I read +about in a book the other day.”</p> +<p>After some effort, and more tribulation, there appeared a +splendid piece of naval architecture, a monitor with a turret, the +deck bordered with a twine-railing, two sails hanging down from +Aunt Stanshy’s small broom.</p> +<p>“That broom makes me think of what I learned at school +when I was a girl.”</p> +<p>“What was that?”</p> +<p>“I am not much of a scholar, but I remember this. Admiral +Tromp was a Dutchman, and commanded a fleet that went against the +English. Tromp was so successful that he tied a broom to his +mast-head and went sailing over the waters, and that meant he had +swept his enemy from the sea, and if he hadn’t, he would +certainly do it and make clean work of it. Over the blue waters he +went skipping along, feeling dreadful big, with that broom at the +mast-head. The English boys, though, came at him again and whipped +him, and poor Tromp was finally killed in a sea-fight. I +don’t know what became of his broom. You had better call that +an English and not a Dutch broom.”</p> +<p>When Charlie went up stairs that night, the <em>Neponset</em> as +he called the monitor, was still sailing in the sitting-room, its +sails all set, its broom at the mast-head. He thought it was +splendid to be sick.</p> +<p>“How long do you think this sickness may go on?” was +the last question he asked Aunt Stanshy that night.</p> +<p>“O, if it is a slow fever, it might last several weeks, +but I don’t want to discourage you.”</p> +<p>“Discourage!” It was magnificent. Two or three weeks +of toast and jelly and oranges and many soft words, and not a few +hugs! That night he was dreaming of boxes of oranges he was +emptying, and of glasses of jelly big as hogsheads, out of which he +was taking jelly by the shovelful! The next morning he +felt—though unwilling to confess it—much better. At +noon keen old Dr. Pillipot happened to come along, and Aunt Stanshy +referred Charlie’s case to him. Old Dr. Pillipot bent his +sharp, gray eyes down toward Charlie and made up a horrid face as +he growled, “Let me see your tongue, young man. Hem! Looks +quite well. Let me feel your pulse. So! Quite good. The weather has +changed, and as it is mild and sunny, he might walk down to school +this—afternoon.</p> +<p>“O dear!” groaned Charlie, when the doctor had left. +“I wish I had scared his horse off when I saw him coming down +the lane. You and I, aunty, did have such a nice time!”</p> +<p>O, the trials of this life!</p> +<p>Charlie, though, had a dose of comfort from Aunt Stanshy. She +told him he need not go to school until the next day, and when the +morning came, she said:</p> +<p>“I believe the <em>Neponset</em> took a cargo on board in +the night.”</p> +<p>There in the shadow of the mast-head was a column of +doughnuts!</p> +<p>“You may take them all to school with you, +Charlie.”</p> +<p>Now he was glad that he was not sick. He disposed of six +doughnuts that forenoon, and as these, if tied together, would have +made good chain-shot for the monitor, and yet did not affect him +unfavorably, it was proof that Charlie was restored to health.</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_7" name="Ch_7">Chapter VII.</a></h3> +<h2>The Nailed Door and Window.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Charlie made a discovery in the barn. In that side toward the +river there was a door on the first floor, and there was also a +window in the chamber above. Not only was the door closed, and +closed also was the wooden shutter of the window, but over each +iron hook dropped in its staple and securing the door and window +were two nails stoutly driven. All this Charlie had noticed before. +He now traced these half-obliterated words in chalk on the door: +“This is not to be opened.” He was standing before this +prohibition, wondering who put it there, and for what purpose, +thinking how nice it would be to have the door open that the club +might have a chance to get down that way into the dock. Then he +thought how pleasant it would be, also, to have the window open +that the club might have a lookout upon the river and off toward +the sea, on whose blue rim, a mile away, could be seen the white +tower of the light-house, where Simes Badger and his assistant +served their country alternate days. Suddenly, Charlie heard a +thick, hoarse voice behind him: “Your Aunt Stanshy in, +sonny?”</p> +<p>Charlie turned, somewhat startled, and there was Simes Badger +himself.</p> +<p>“She has gone out, I guess, sir.”</p> +<p>“What are you looking at that door for? I don’t +believe your Aunt Stanshy wants you to open it.”</p> +<p>“O, I was not going to open it.”</p> +<p>If, after the half-effaced chalk-marks, Charlie had seen a +written threat, “On pain of death,” he could not have +been more determined to let that window alone.</p> +<p>“Do you know, Mr. Badger, who shut and nailed that +window?”</p> +<p>“Aunt Stanshy herself. I saw her with my own +eyes.”</p> +<p>“You did?”</p> +<p>“Yes. You see—there, I don’t know but +I’m telling a secret—but then you won’t say any +thing.”</p> +<p>Having made this prudent remark, and not waiting for any promise +from Charlie, Simes, who dearly loved to tell a thing, and +especially any thing that might astonish a hearer, began his +story.</p> +<p>“You see, Tim Tyler is your Aunt Stanshy’s second +cousin.”</p> +<p>“Tim’s father?” said Charlie, in +astonishment.</p> +<p>“You mean young Tim Tyler’s father? Ginerally old +Tim is young Tim’s father, sartin as the sea is father of our +river. But this old Tim is young Tim’s uncle. Then you +didn’t know it? Well, you are young, and I spose nobody told +you. Well, Stanshy and old Tim were brought up side by side in this +neighborhood and were good as chickens to one another. Some folks +say they’d been better friends still, if their parents +hadn’t set their faces agin it, and so they were never +married to one another. They were never married at all. Did you +ever see old Tim?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know as ever I saw old Tim, but then +I’ve seen <em>that</em> boy, and he is rough,” said +Charlie, recalling the afternoon of the Fourth.</p> +<p>“Tim Tyler don’t live in this part of the town, and +it’s no wonder you never saw him. He hardly ever comes down +this way now, though he often did once. Well, the wust +lookin’ old drunkard you ever see about town, spot him for +Tim.”</p> +<p>“Then I guess I have seen him,” remarked Charlie, +recalling the drunkard he had watched the afternoon of his severe +sickness, and remembering, too, Aunt Stanshy’s singular +conduct.</p> +<p>“Tim looks poorly enough now, but it wasn’t so once. +Straight and smart, and bright as the blades of a new jack-knife, +was Tim. His face was blushin’ like a posy, and his beard was +long and handsome, like Moses the prophet’s. He was nice as a +pictur till rum got the better of him, and then he changed, I tell +ye. For many years he had the privilege of fishin’ from this +barn. From the stairs on the ’tother side of that door, he +would get down into his fishin’ boat in the dock. He would +bring his fish in here, split ’em and prepare ’em for +market. Sometimes Stanshy kept a horse and cow below, and then Tim +would hist his fare into the upper window and clean his fish there. +But one day Aunt Stanshy cleaned him out, and when Stanshy starts +on a cleanin’ tour, she makes thorough work of it, and puts +things through promptly. And she did clean out old Tim! But I must +go back and hitch the horse into the cart, and say what you know as +well as I, that your Aunt Stanshy is a great teetotaler, a leetle +too much I think.” [Simes liked his nip.] “But +seein’ how her minister’s in favor of it, she is wuss +than ever. Now to go on. Your father, boy, let me say, had a hand +in this trouble, though not meaningly, and it was this way. Tour +father came to live with your Aunt Stanshy, and one day Tim took +him out a-fishin’, and not only tipped a jug to his own lips, +but sot it to your father’s also. When they came back home, +it was plain they had been up to suthin’ besides +fishin’. Well, Tim might as well have touched a lion’s +whip—what do you call it?”</p> +<p>“Whelp. I was reading about lions to-day.”</p> +<p>“Yes, touched a lion’s whelp as touched your father; +for didn’t Aunt Stanshy pitch into him! I heard it all. It +was when he was a-splittin’ fish, and Aunt Stanshy came out, +and didn’t she walk into Tim! I never see an eel skinned more +purtily than she dressed Tim for temptin’ a poor, motherless +boy, as she called your father. ‘Don’t!’ your +father would go, tryin’ to pacify her; +‘don’t!’ It had no more effect than tryin’ +to fan out of the way a tornader. Indeed, jest because she and Tim +had been on good terms with one another and understood one another +so well, I think for that reason she was all the hotter. You know +when brothers do quarrel, they go it wuss than other folks. Well, +Tim at fust would say nothing but he was orful mad. He was that +kind of mad that you see in the sky when a thunder-storm is +brewin’, and yet no rain has fallen; only the flash is there, +and the thunder is there a-rumblin’, and the lightnin’ +is there a sawin’ up and down, but nary a drop of rain! At +last Tim spoke, and he declared it was the last he’d ever +have to do with her, and afore he’d ask a favor of her, he +took a horrid oath, he’d see hisself a-drownin’ in that +dock fust. I hated to hear him swear that way, for, sez I, +‘Young man, you may get there yet, and you may be glad to +have Stanshy’s help.’ Then he took a barrel of fish he +was fillin’, and he was so mad he rolled the whole mess into +the water, sayin’ he would have nothin’ to do with any +thing that had touched Aunt Stanshy’s barn. I asked him why +he didn’t then throw himself over! That touched him up, and +he grabbed his knives and pitched them into the dock. It was a +queer sight to see them fish in that barrel floatin’ away. +But then the rum was in him and maddened him. When he had left, it +was Aunt Stanshy’s turn to do suthin’. I heard it all, +for I was in the yard doin’ a few chores for Stanshy. Fust, +there was a slam in the barn chamber. I jest slipped up them stairs +and peeked over the edge of the floor. Stanshy had pulled the +shutter in with a vengeance. Then she hooked it and drove the nails +over the hook as tight as bricks. O she is a woman of +’mazin’ vigor, Stanshy is, when she gets agoin’. +She came down stairs and she fastened up this door, and then I seed +her fumblin’ in her pocket, and, pullin’ out a piece of +chalk, she began to write. When Stanshy had finished, of course, I +was at my chores agin very busily engaged. Well, since that day, +there has been silence between Stanshy and Tim like that round the +old tombstones in the church-yard. I hope some day it will be +different.”</p> +<p>With this benevolent wish, Simes closed.</p> +<p>“A bad scrape,” remarked Charlie.</p> +<p>“Yes, people ought not to drink so much,” said the +abstemious and ascetic Simes. “They ought to stop this side +of a drop too much.”</p> +<p>“They ought to stop this side of any drop at all,” +stoutly affirmed the young member of Mr. Walton’s temperance +society.</p> +<p>“Pre—pre—haps so,” replied Simes.</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_8" name="Ch_8">Chapter VIII.</a></h3> +<h2>The Entertainment.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy, as she looked down upon the sitting-room table, +saw Charlie’s curly head bending over pen, ink, and +card-board. He had cut the card-board into strips three inches long +and two inches wide.</p> +<p>“What have you there?”</p> +<p>Charlie was too much occupied to notice this remark.</p> +<p>“What are you doing?”</p> +<p>“Making tickets.”</p> +<p>“Tickets?”</p> +<p>“Yes, will you buy one?”</p> +<p>“I want to see first what I am going to buy.”</p> +<p>“You may.”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy then read these lines on a slip of card-board:</p> +<p class="cen" style= +"width:80%;margin:auto;border:black thin solid;">Ticket to the +Up-the-Ladder Boys'<br /> +ENTERTAINMENT.<br /> +Admission, 2 nails. Seat, 10 nails.<br /> +Elders' admission, 1 cent. Seat, 2 cents.</p> +<p>“O, that is it I Could I go in for nails, or a +cent?”</p> +<p>“For a cent.”</p> +<p>“Then I’m an ‘elder.’”</p> +<p>“Yes, aunty.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll engage a seat.”</p> +<p>“Goody! That will be two cents. We did think of breaking +up the club, but this will cheer them up. Wouldn’t it be too +bad to give up? Our new silk badges that our teacher promised, we +have this week.”</p> +<p>“The shields?”</p> +<p>“Yes, spick and span new.”</p> +<p>“I hope my two cents will encourage them to be good +knights.”</p> +<p>“O it will. You will be on hand this afternoon, after +school?”</p> +<p>“Certainly.”</p> +<p>After school, Aunt Stanshy was on hand promptly, and she judged +by the noises issuing from the barn that all the others were on +hand also. She climbed the, stairs and was about stepping into the +chamber, when Pip, the assistant sentinel, came forward. He looked +very formidable. A scarlet cap was on his head, a white belt tied +round his body, and red flannel epaulets decorated his shoulders. +He bore a terrible broom, and Aunt Stanshy recalled the fact that +it had served as mast for the <em>Neponset</em>.</p> +<p>“Who goeth there?” cried the valorous Pip.</p> +<p>“Aunt Stanshy,” said a feeble voice.</p> +<p>“Advanth and give the counterthign?”</p> +<p>“I can’t.”</p> +<p>Pip leveled his broom at once. Poor Stanshy, how she wished she +had made her will.</p> +<p>“Bang!” he shouted.</p> +<p>Could she survive this?</p> +<p>“Thay pertatoeth!” he whispered.</p> +<p>“Pertatoes,” she fortunately shrieked.</p> +<p>“All right,” said Pip, and she was spared a second +shot.</p> +<p>“I’m thankful to get through safe, and now I have +not to pay, after all that risk?”</p> +<p>“Certainly, madam,” politely replied Charlie, the +treasurer, who now met her. “I’ll take your ticket and +punch it.”</p> +<p>Having punched her ticket, he retired. Aunt Stanshy looked about +the chamber. She noticed that an old thin sheet served for curtain, +as before, and another was strung across a corner and separated it +from the rest of the chamber. This second curtain not being long +enough to reach the desired distance, was pieced out by a strip of +wire netting in one corner. Looking over this corner curtain, Aunt +Stanshy saw eight pieces of carpeting on the floor, each member of +the club having furnished a piece. Inside this sanctuary were a +barrel and a saw-horse.</p> +<p>“What is this for?” asked Aunt Stanshy.</p> +<p>“O for meetings,” said Charlie. “Only the four +principals can go in there.”</p> +<p>“Who are they?”</p> +<p>“The president, the governor, the first treasury, and the +keeper of the great seal. We stand on the barrel and saw-horse, and +make laws to the other members of the club, who stand +outside.”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy now turned to inspect the other parts of the +chamber.</p> +<p>“This is our whipping-post,” said Charlie, calling +attention to a post against which leaned the ladder that sloped up +to the cupola.</p> +<p>“Have you whipped any one?”</p> +<p>“Yes; Pip deserted once.”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy read three notices nailed to the post: +“First, no cross words; no swearing and vulgar words; nobody +but the treasurer to climb this ladder to go up into the cupola, +unless the club say so.”</p> +<p>This was in Charlie’s handwriting.</p> +<p>“Why not go?” asked Aunt Stanshy.</p> +<p>“O we keep our funds up there in a dipper.”</p> +<p>“It looks unsafe to me, for somebody climbing up there +might reach into the cup and steal the money.”</p> +<p>“O no, I guess not.”</p> +<p>Sid Waters now stepped forward. “Ladies and +gentlemen,” he said, “two more individuals having +arrived”—these were nail patrons—“we will +begin our entertainment. First is the dialogue called ‘The +Spy.’”</p> +<p>The curtain rose and there stood the inheritor of the warlike +name of Jugurtha. He was rather sober and melancholy, and was +dressed in a semi-military style that betrayed not in the least the +fact to what flag he might possibly be attached. Sid was crouching +down, hiding behind a barrel.</p> +<p>“What am I?” Juggie now asked in low tones, +“American or British?”</p> +<p>“Of course,” Sid was heard to say, “you are an +American, or ought to be. Hush up!”</p> +<p>Juggie now strode over the floor, an exiled broom-handle resting +on his shoulder. Suddenly a step was heard. From the rear of a box +crept out the governor. He wore a farmer’s dress, and was +half smothered under his father’s tall hat.</p> +<p>“Advance!” shouted Juggie, “and gib de +count—count—”</p> +<p>“Countersign!” whispered the prompter behind the +barrel.</p> +<p>“Count-de-sign!” shouted Juggie, pompously, at the +same time presenting the broom-handle threateningly.</p> +<p>“George Washington!” answered the farmer.</p> +<p>“All right. Go ’long dar!”</p> +<p>“No, no!” whispered Sid. “Let me see your +papers, friend!”</p> +<p>“Let me see your papers, friend!”</p> +<p>The farmer reads his pass.</p> +<p>“Is dat all?”</p> +<p>“All.”</p> +<p>“Knock off his hat,” whispered Sid.</p> +<p>“What’s de matter wid your hat?” and as Juggie +shouted this, he fetched the governor’s hat a merciless rap, +one that would have been serious had not the governors head luckily +been in the first story of the hat. As the hat dropped, Juggie +seized a paper that fell out, and exclaimed, “A spy, a spy! A +note to de British commander!”</p> +<p>“Seize him! That is the next thing,” suggested Sid, +in smothered tones. But the British spy was too much for Juggie, +and the defender of the continental name was obliged to resort to +severe measures. Presenting the broom-handle, he shouted, +“Aim! Fire! Bang!” but the spy was not considerate +enough to fall.</p> +<p>“Drop! drop, why don’t you?” whispered Juggie. +“You’ve been shot.”</p> +<p>The spy, <em>alias</em> the governor, showed his usual firmness, +and continued to stand.</p> +<p>“Drop!” besought Sid, in a suppressed voice. +“Shoot him again, Juggie!”</p> +<p>But the spy did not care to be riddled again and he prudently +fell.</p> +<p>“Drag him out, Juggie!” was the prompting of an +unknown voice. Juggie seized one of the spy’s fat legs, but +pulled in vain. It was an impossible <em>feet</em>. Sid and Charlie +now appeared as continentals, supposed to be armed with guns, and +were helping Juggie, when the cry was raised, “The British +army is coming!” At the head of the stairs appeared Wort +Wentworth, his head decorated with a red paper helmet, and carrying +on his body various insignia of war. He now made a fierce charge +across the floor.</p> +<p>“Into the fort!” shouted Sid, rushing toward the +closet, and, as usual, striving after the first chance to retreat. +“Into the fort, my men!”</p> +<p>After him scrambled Charlie and Juggie, the dead +“spy” manifesting an unusual energy and scrambling +after them, forgetting that his friends were in his rear and not in +the closet. The next moment all heard an ominous descent from the +second to the first story.</p> +<p>“Massy!” shouted Aunt Stanshy. “Somebody has +gone down that fodder-box agin!”</p> +<p>She rushed down stairs, followed by the “British +army,” and all the members of the Up-the Ladder Club that +could move one leg before the other.</p> +<p>“I know those legs! I guess they will stand it,” +said Aunt Stanshy, as she reached the lower floor and caught a +glimpse of the fodder-box. It was the British spy, whose stout +pedestals were sticking out, and he only needed to be once more +seized and dragged forward by Juggie and the other +“continentals” to give proof of his vigorous, embalmed +condition.</p> +<p>“Sakes, boy!” said Aunt Stanshy. “I thought +you were shot, but you manifest an immense amount of vitality for a +dead man.”</p> +<p>“I came down rather sudden,” said the governor.</p> +<p>“Yes, and it’s the last time,” exclaimed Aunt +Stanshy, “that thing is going to happen. I will go up myself +and fix that floor, and do it thoroughly.”</p> +<p>In a few moments her hammer was heard vigorously pounding in the +closet and securing the club against future harm.</p> +<p>“We didn’t do all we intended,” said Charlie. +“We were going to have a reconciliation, aunty.”</p> +<p>“Between whom?”</p> +<p>“The British and Americans. We were going to have the +President of the United States and Queen Victoria walk arm in arm +up and down the floor, and never have war any more.”</p> +<p>In the confusion attendant upon the fall of the +“spy,” the programme was not carried out as planned, +and the shadows of those two eminent rulers never darkened the +floor of the barn chamber.</p> +<p>“May war never happen, just the same!” said Aunt +Stanshy.</p> +<p>Amen! so say we all of us.</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_9" name="Ch_9">Chapter IX.</a></h3> +<h2>The Cupola.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy was reading one day the list of prohibitions posted +up against the post in the barn chamber.</p> +<p>“Charlie,” she said “I like what is said here, +that no cross words and no bad words must be spoken here; but what +does it mean when it says <em>no one</em> but the +‘treasury’ must climb the ladder and go up into the +cupola? Does that apply to honorary members? and did you think that +I might want to go there?”</p> +<p>Charlie’s mouth opened into a crack from ear to ear. +“Why—why, the money is up in the cupola!”</p> +<p>“The money is up there in the cupola? Yes, I knew that; +you told me that before. What holds your money?”</p> +<p>“A tin dipper.”</p> +<p>“Well, now, if you don’t look out, somebody will +steal your money. You may be assured that honorary members +won’t trouble it.”</p> +<p>“Ho!” shouted Charlie. “There goes a man and a +hand organ and a monkey.”</p> +<p>The dignity of the club was not sufficient to restrain Charlie +and several others from an almost headlong rush for the out-door +attraction, and they quickly surrounded the organ-grinder. He owned +a remarkable monkey, the boys thought, especially when he mounted +by a spout to the window of Aunt Stanshy’s chamber, and, +entering it, soon re-appeared shaking in his hand Aunt +Stanshy’s spectacles!</p> +<p>“Put ’em on!” cried Sid.</p> +<p>“He can, he can!” said his master. “Me taught +him.”</p> +<p>The next moment the spectacles appeared on the monkey’s +nose!</p> +<p>“He look like <em>her</em>,” said the +organ-grinder.</p> +<p>But the monkey did not have time to continue his resemblance to +the fair owner any longer, for the shadow of a broom fell over him, +and if he had not made a very nimble spring for the spout, +something besides a shadow would have fallen upon him, even the +broom itself. This was now seen at the window, and Aunt Stanshy +behind it. It was Tony who gallantly ran forward and rescued Aunt +Stanshy’s spectacles as their wearer was about quitting the +spout for the ground.</p> +<p>“We think that monkey is very smart, Aunt Stanshy,” +said Sid.</p> +<p>“I expect you will make him an honorary member the next +thing.”</p> +<p>“He’s bright enough,” said Sid.</p> +<p>“I wonder how bright one must be to be an honorary member +if—if—a monkey is the standard?” thought Aunt +Stanshy.</p> +<p>This visit from the monkey was not the only unusual thing +happening that day. The club heard with sorrow of the unexpected +and total loss of their money! Charlie, as “treasury,” +had gone up the ladder, but returning, he reported that the dipper, +the safe of the club, was missing.</p> +<p>“How much money was in it?” inquired Aunt +Stanshy.</p> +<p>“Ten cents.”</p> +<p>“I said you might lose your money.”</p> +<p>This was entirely true, but it was poor consolation. Indeed, it +was quite aggravating.</p> +<p>“Did you have any mark on the dipper?”</p> +<p>“Yes; a shield on the bottom, +though—though—‘twas not a very good +one.”</p> +<p>No, to that day it remained uncertain what the device really +was, and its character had been hotly discussed in the club.</p> +<p>Charlie had discovered the theft on his return from school at +noon. Swallowing a potato and a few mouthfuls of steak, he then +rushed from the house to report the loss to the club. In a short +time all the white shields had heard the news, and quickly +gathered.</p> +<p>“Well, boys, what is to be done?” asked the +president.</p> +<p>Nobody knew.</p> +<p>“Let’s climb the ladder and all take a look,” +suggested the secretary.</p> +<p>Exceedingly nimble were the legs that went wriggling up the +ladder, and very curious eyes were directed toward the depths of +the “cupelo,” but the only result was a succession of +“My!” and “That’s so!” and “Too +bad!”</p> +<p>“I’ve got it!” shouted Sid.</p> +<p>“He’th found it,” said Pip.</p> +<p>Every sad face brightened.</p> +<p>“No, I haven’t, Pip!” exclaimed Sid.</p> +<p>“But you thaid tho.”</p> +<p>“No, I meant that I knew what had become of it.”</p> +<p>“O! O!” said Pip. “But what hath become of +it?”</p> +<p>Sid here looked about him, to make sure that no one outside of +the club was listening.</p> +<p>“Well, boys, I think Tim Tyler took it”</p> +<p>“What makes-you think so?” inquired the +governor.</p> +<p>“It has just come to me that I saw Tim Tyler go down the +lane after school, and a tin dipper stuck out of his +pocket.”</p> +<p>“You did?” asked several.</p> +<p>All eyes opened wide in wonder and indignation.</p> +<p>“With my eyes I saw him. That’s where the dipper has +gone.”</p> +<p>It did not occur to the club that there were more dippers than +one in the world, and then they did not care to think of it. They +had not forgotten the Fourth, and they wanted to believe something +bad of Tim.</p> +<p>Another point for discussion came up at once, and Charlie +suggested it.</p> +<p>“How shall we get the dipper away from Tim?” he +asked.</p> +<p>“I move the president go,” said Wort.</p> +<p>“I thecond the mothion,” cried Pip.</p> +<p>“Aint you good,” was Sid’s scornful notice of +the intended honor. “Presidents don’t do that, but the +police of the club. I preside.”</p> +<p>“The sentinel is the police, and that is Juggie, but he is +not here now; he went home a moment ago. Then, of course, his +assistant must do it;” and he here turned toward Pip.</p> +<p>“Yes, Pip,” said boy after boy.</p> +<p>Poor, trembling Pip! Didn’t he wish he had been born in +the previous century! No amount of coaxing could prevail upon, him +to approach the dreadful dragon that had carried off the tin +dipper, and every body else declined the same honor.</p> +<p>Finally Wort made this offer:</p> +<p>“I’ll go down to-Old Tim’s boat, and Tim may +be hanging round, and I’ll see what I can see.”</p> +<p>This was a relief to the club, and entirely safe for Wort.</p> +<p>“I’ll go at once,” he said, and away he +went.</p> +<p>Charlie went up to a store on “Water Street at the same +time, and chanced to meet Miss Bertha Barry.</p> +<p>“We’ve met with a loss,” said Charlie, with a +sober face.</p> +<p>“Any one dead?”</p> +<p>“O no; but the club has lost its tin dipper.”</p> +<p>“Tin dipper?”</p> +<p>“Yes, teacher, where we kept our money.”</p> +<p>“O!”</p> +<p>“All our money has gone.”</p> +<p>“How much!”</p> +<p>“Ten cents.”</p> +<p>“Hem, hem; sorry.”</p> +<p>“We think we know who did it.”</p> +<p>“You know certainly.”</p> +<p>“No, but we think we do, and the feller is just bad enough +to do it.”</p> +<p>“It’s pretty hard to have people think you are bad; +and then, if you are thought to have done something you were never +guilty of, that is worse still. I don’t think it fair to +charge a wrong thing on any body unless we know pretty certainly. +It is not just.”</p> +<p>Charlie had not thought of it <em>that</em> way before.</p> +<p>“I guess you are right, teacher.”</p> +<p>Bidding her good-bye, he was moving off, when she said: +“Stop one moment. Whoever that boy is, I wish you’d get +him out to Sunday-school.”</p> +<p>“What an idea!” thought Charlie. “Tim +Tyler’s going to Sunday-school!”</p> +<p>In the meantime Wort had been prosecuting his bold +investigations. He strolled down the lane, passing several +cottages, and then a fish-house, where several men were splitting +and salting fish. All these were on the left side of the lane. On +the right was a long dock, and in it were several boats.</p> +<p>“There is Tim Tyler,” exclaimed Wort, “and +there is his boat. There is young Tim, the thief!”</p> +<p>It was an old boat that Wort looked into as he stood upon the +stairs leading down into the dock. It was a boat badly battered, +like its owner.</p> +<p>“If the red paint could be got off Tim’s nose and +put on his boat, it would be better for both,” thought +Wort.</p> +<p>Old Tim was fixing a net in the stem of his boat. Young Tim was +in another part of the dock, hunting amid the muddy flats for +relics.</p> +<p>“There she is!” said Wort to himself. He had +detected a dipper in the bottom of the boat. “Now is my +chance,” thought Wort. He reached down to the coveted dipper. +It was a venerable piece of tinware.</p> +<p>“That’s too old to be ours,” reflected the +daring Wort. “Let me turn it over and see if there is a mark +on the bottom. Bah, an old worm! That is not our dipper.”</p> +<p>“Here, you thief! what are you meddlin’ with that +property for?” roared a voice.</p> +<p>It was Old Tim. His face was red as a boiled lobster, and as he +crooked his bare arms and rested them on his hips, they looked like +the claws of a mammoth lobster ready to crawl out and seize any +offender.</p> +<p>“Guess I’ll go,” thought Wort, and off he +hurried to tell the club his ill-success, and that their detective +in search of a thief had been called one.</p> +<p>A few minutes later Juggie exclaimed to the disconsolate circle, +“Dar’s de organ-grinder.”</p> +<p>It was indeed he hurrying along the lane and turning a troubled +face toward the barn, for no monkey came with him. Had he lost his +friend from the far South?</p> +<p>“He gone!” said the grinder, as he reached the boys. +“You sheen him?”</p> +<p>“Seen your monkey?” asked Sid.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes! You sheen my leetle mun-kee?”</p> +<p>“Why, no.”</p> +<p>“You—you—you,” and the grinder swept the +circle to find out if any one had seen the lost favorite. No one +had seen him.</p> +<p>“O, O dear!” lamented the grinder excitedly.</p> +<p>Poor organ-grinder! his face was wrinkled as badly as that of +his missing assistant when attempting to pick a very bad nut.</p> +<p>“You go—find—my—mun-kee?”</p> +<p>“O, yes,” said the president, “we will hunt. +Come on.”</p> +<p>They scattered, tumbling over fences, climbing shed roofs, +diving into corners, shouting, yelling, and stirring up the +neighborhood thoroughly. It did no good. “My munkee” +refused to be found.</p> +<p>The boys went to school and returned, meeting in the barn +chamber once more.</p> +<p>“There’s some business to be done, Mr. +President,” said the “securtary,” in a very +formal way. But where was the president? He was no more to be found +than the monkey. A little later, Wort Wentworth was looking out of +the window.</p> +<p>“Here comes Sid,” he shouted.</p> +<p>Sid was running through the yard, when, seeing the boys at the +window, he stopped, and shouted excitedly:</p> +<p>“O, fellers, I have made a discovery! It’s all out +now. Come!”</p> +<p>What was out he did not say, but turned and speedily was out +himself in the lane.</p> +<p>“Come on, boys,” called the governor, and down the +stairs they went, rushing, shoving, tumbling, just in time to see +the last of Sid’s legs disappearing round the corner of the +house. They hurried after him, down the lane, then up a little +passage-way between two buildings on the left. Then they turned +aside to the rear of a barn, and there the panting, confused group +halted.</p> +<p>“There!” said Sid, solemnly, pointing as he spoke. +“The mystery is over. Poor feller!”</p> +<p>Dangling from the roof by a cord that was twisted round his +neck, swung the dead monkey! In the grasp of his rigid paw was the +missing dipper.</p> +<p>“I see the shield!” sang out Wort. Yes, there was +the mark identifying the stolen property. Poor little child of the +tropics, swinging in his leafy, native haunts from bough to bough, +gripping the branches with paw and tail, he little anticipated that +his last swing would be by the neck, like that of a murderer from +the black, unsightly gallows! He had strayed away, carrying with +him the cord binding him to his master’s wrist. In his +peregrinations over various roofs, he had examined the cupola, and +reaching a paw through an opening where a slat chanced to have been +removed, he had abstracted the property of the club. Whatever money +was in the dipper had been spilled hopelessly as marbles in the +sea. Attempting to come down by a spout from the last barn-roof +visited, he was entangled in the cord that had caught about a nail +in the roof. Finally, the cord was twisted about his neck and +twisted the life out of him. The thief was holding out the dipper +as if asking for more, and showing that the ruling passion was +strong in death. There were many sighs from the tender-hearted, +sympathetic boys. All were ready to pity and forgive, but pity and +forgiveness could not bring the little creature back to life.</p> +<p>“Let’s bury him!” said a tearful voice. It was +Tony, who said little generally, but he was now moved to speak in +his secret sympathy for this wandering child of the sun. The +organ-grinder was notified, and then a grave was dug for his dead +property under the leafiest apple-tree. Charlie furnished a box, +and Wort brought fresh straw from his stable. The box with its +occupant was laid in the grave, and the pitiful face of the monkey +was then covered up forever.</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_10" name="Ch_10">Chapter X.</a></h3> +<h2>Aunt Stanshy’s Boarder.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy had often said she would never have boarders, and +she would “go to the almshouse first,” yes, she +“would.” One day, though, there came to the house a +frank, lively, irrepressible young man of nineteen.</p> +<p>“I am a stranger here,” he said, “but my name +is Somers, Will Somers, and I have come here to be a clerk in +Tilton’s apothecary-store; been in Boston, you know, with +Tompkins & Thomas, Tilton, when he was up the other day at our +store, said that he wanted a clerk and offered me the chance, which +I concluded to accept. I want a boarding-place, marm; but what a +town this is? Do I look like a tramp, and if I don’t, what is +the matter that I cant get a boarding-house? Do I look like +one?”</p> +<p>Here he looked at Aunt Stanshy, making such an appeal with his +frank, blue eyes, that Aunt Stanshy could not well do otherwise +than say, “Why, no!”</p> +<p>“Then wont you take me?”</p> +<p>“O—I—I—said I never would take +boarders,—and—and—I am +unprepared,—and—and—”</p> +<p>“O this room will do first-rate. I shouldn’t want +one any better, really. I know”—here he gave a very +approving glance about the room. “Now come, do! It would +please mother very much.”</p> +<p>“Have you a mother living?”</p> +<p>“O yes, and she is one of the best mothers, too, and I +think you look like her. There are four of us brothers. How much +your little boy looks like my little brother Willie at home! Come +here,” he said to Charlie, who had opened the door to ask +Aunt Stanshy a question, “come here and see what apothecaries +carry in their pockets. Some folks think they only carry drugs and +such things, but you see if it is so?” Here he put into +Charlie’s fat hand a long and toothsome piece of checkerberry +pipe stem!</p> +<p>“He is not my little boy really,” explained Aunt +Stanshy, and then she went on to say who Charlie was, and also told +about other things, finally saying so much concerning the Macomber +family that he ceased to be a stranger and seemed to become a +relative, a species of long-absent son, and consistently what could +Aunt Stanshy do but let Will Somers—an arrival in Seamont +only a few hours old—have that sacred apartment—her +front room?</p> +<p>“What a fool I am!” soliloquized Aunt Stanshy. She +watched Will Somers go down the street after the interview, and +heard him whistling “The girl I left behind me.” Did he +mean Aunt Stanshy? “I’m a nat’ral-born fool, I do +believe,” she exclaimed, “letting a perfect stranger +have that room; but there, it will be sort of nice having him +round. I s’pose he will want to stick a lot of things into +that room.” And didn’t he stick up “things” +and make changes? Down came the two yellow crockery crow-biddies +that had roosted on the mantelpiece the last twenty years, never +having paid for the privilege with a single crow. Down came two +vases of dried grasses. Down came a flaming red, yellow, orange, +and green print of an American farm-yard. Up went various things. +Over the mantel-piece was suspended a picture of Abraham Lincoln, +garnished with American flags, and along the mantel-piece was +ranged a row of photographs, principally of young ladies, several +fans coming at intervals, while about the room, on various +brackets, stood more photographs, mostly feminine, and more flags, +all American. It ought to be said in fairness that, while several +of the young ladies did not have at all a family look, others did, +and were introduced to Aunt Stanshy as Will’s sisters. He had +a flag over his mother’s picture. Then there was a red-hot +chromo of a fire-engine, and a cool one of two white bears on a +cake of ice.</p> +<p>“O dear, what a boarder!” said Aunt Stanshy, going +into the room twenty-four hours after it had been very orderly +arranged by her. “Things are stirred up now. It looks like a +tornader.”</p> +<p>That was the way it generally appeared, and yet Will Somers, +impulsive, careless, thoughtless, but frank, enthusiastic, +generous, dashing, and honorable always, was very popular with Aunt +Stanshy and Charlie. In Charlie’s eyes he was a marvelous +being. Such wonderful fires in the city as he told Charlie about! +And then, what did Aunt Stanshy’s boarder do but join the +“Cataract” engine company in Seamont! He made a stir +generally in the old place, starting a gymnasium and organizing a +“reading circle,” and putting things generally in a +whirl. He had a “voice,” and he had a guitar, so that +his “serenades” were famous; and he set Aunt +Stanshy’s heart all in a flutter one night when, awaking +about twelve, she heard his well-known voice leading off in a +serenade, while he twanged his guitar to the tune, “O dearest +love, do you remember?” Will Somers was popular in a very +short time with every body. In the club-circle he was the object of +an open, undisguised admiration. They quickly made him an honorary +member, and he quickly set them up a “pair of bars,” +put in proper position the ladder, and suspended swings, that they +might practice gymnastics every day. Every mother who had a boy in +that club expected almost any day that her idol might be brought +home stretched on a shutter or bundled up in a wheelbarrow. No limb +though was broken, and there were some wonderful developments of +“muscle” (so the club thought). One day the new +honorary member made an offer.</p> +<p>“Boys, I can have the next Saturday afternoon that comes +along, and Aunt Stanshy says there is a garrison-house on the other +side of the river. Come, I’ll hire a boat and take you +over.”</p> +<p>“O good!” “Yes, we’ll go!” +“Three cheers!” “Hurrah for Will Somers!” +were some of the outcries greeting the proposition.</p> +<p>“I think, boys, all the honorary members ought to be +invited.”</p> +<p>“Certainly,” said Sid, and Aunt Stanshy was +invited.</p> +<p>“See me going! The idea!” she exclaimed.</p> +<p>“What if the minister should see me going off with a +parcel of boys!”</p> +<p>“He would say you were a very sensible woman,” said +Charlie, and Aunt Stanshy went.</p> +<p>The club admired the rowing of Will Somers as he performed with +bare arms and showed a “fearful muscle.” The boat was a +very large one accommodating all-the party, but the oars-man +refused to have any help, and progress was slow. At last the other +side of the river was reached in safety. They walked through a +ship-yard, and then, turned into a country road, sweet with wild +flowers, nodding on either side. Beyond this they came to a piece +of road, bordered with stiff, stout pines.</p> +<p>“There it is!” said Aunt Stanshy. “It is that +block-house.”</p> +<p>“What! the garrison-house?” inquired Sid. “Big +as that? I thought they were smaller.”</p> +<p>“The real garrison-house is in the corner, this way, and +makes one room on the first floor. People that came to live in the +garrison-house built above it and built beyond it, turning the +garrison-house into a single room in a big, old-fashioned building. +Mr. Parlin, may we take a look at the garrison-house?”</p> +<p>“Sartin, sartin. Step in. I guess Amanda is there, +washin’ the baby; but she’s used to children, and wont +mind you more than flies,” said a stout, broad-shouldered +farmer, passing through the yard, a hoe resting on his shoulder. +“Let me go with you.”</p> +<p>Amanda, who was washing the baby, and at the same time trying to +keep in decent order six other children, gave them a hearty +welcome, and showed that she did not mind them more than +“flies.”</p> +<p>“Aunt Stanshy, how d’ye do? Are these all your +children?” asked Amanda, laughing.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Sid; “she is our mother to-day, +and we are proud of her.”</p> +<p>The white shields all smiled their approbation of Sid’s +ready gallantry.</p> +<p>“And this is the garrison-house?” inquired Will +Somers.</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Mr. Parlin; “we are between its +walls, and solid walls, too, they are. See that feller overhead +stickin’ out from the ceilin’. There is a beam for you, +all of oak, too, and it measures eleven inches by thirteen. Now +step outside. There, boys, in that corner, the clapboards are +broken, and you can see what was the original style of the walls. +They were laid in this way: big, square sticks of oak were laid one +upon the other, the ends dovetailed and secured by pins, the cracks +being filled with mortar. You see, no Injun bullet could go through +that wall, and there would be little satisfaction in building a +fire against it, unless an immense one.”</p> +<p>Will Somers was here striding over the ground, pacing the length +of the garrison wall.</p> +<p>“About twenty feet,” he said.</p> +<p>“Yes, twenty feet hits the mark,” replied Mr. +Parlin. “The sticks are a foot wide, and measure six inches +through. It makes a pretty good wall. Step in and I’ll show +you where they went in and out. There, it was that narrow door over +in that side, and that openin’ up there, about two feet +square, they say, was the winder, and they used to fire out of it. +At night they fitted a block into it and fastened up the door-way +with logs.”</p> +<p>“Did they have any Indians about here, any real +ones?” asked Charlie.</p> +<p>“There is only one kind, sonny, when you talk about +full-blooded Injuns, and I guess our fathers found it out. Injuns! +Thick as pizen any day. Why, down in that place just beyond here a +woman was goin’ along one day, and she was carryin’ an +earthen pot. The Injuns just whooped out on her, and it was the +last time the poor thing was seen alive. The pot was found +afterward, and is kept by one of our families in town to-day. +Injuns! I guess so. Of course, when they were about here the alarm +was given, and the people came flockin’ to the +garrison-house, and they were safe enough here.”</p> +<p>How the eyes of the club projected! The governor informed Pip +that his orbs stuck out far enough to hang a mug on.</p> +<p>The party slowly made its way back to the boat.</p> +<p>“How foggy it is!” said Aunt Stanshy.</p> +<p>“It has all come up while we were gone.”</p> +<p>“Don’t worry,” said Will. “I’ll +row you across.”</p> +<p>“I hope you wont row us anywhere else, I’m +sure.”</p> +<p>“Don’t worry,” again remarked the young +apothecary, and in a very confident tone.</p> +<p>“Let me pint you first right for Peleg Wherren’s +fish-house, for there’s a good landin’ place at his +wharf,” said Aunt Stanshy.</p> +<p>Standing on the pebbly shore, she bowed to the level of the +boat’s rail, and then aimed her as if an enemy directing a +columbiad at Peleg’s fish-flakes, eel-pots, and other +articles, promising to let a cold shot drop in their midst.</p> +<p>“There, I’ve pinted her; now go right +across.”</p> +<p>“All right,” sang out Will, cheerfully.</p> +<p>Like a great, gray, woolly blanket, the fog rested on the river, +and Seamont was as effectually hid as if fifty miles away.</p> +<p>“Look—out!” screamed Aunt Stanshy. Something +big was now looming up directly before the bow of the boys’ +boat.</p> +<p>“Don’t run that ship down,” said the +president.</p> +<p>“I wont,” replied the apothecary, “if +they’ll get out of the way.”</p> +<p>“Ship ahoy!” he shouted.</p> +<p>“Aye, aye!” came from the vessel.</p> +<p>“What ship is that, and how many days out?”</p> +<p>“The Dolphin, and one day out from—”</p> +<p>The remaining words were lost.</p> +<p>“This is the ‘Magnificent,’ ten minutes out +from t’other side of the river!” shouted Will.</p> +<p>The coaster disappeared as if smothered under the gray woolly +blanket that had settled down on every thing.</p> +<p>“Why don’t we come to the wharf?” inquired +Pip.</p> +<p>“Because we haven’t got there.”</p> +<p>Will’s reason was received with laughter, but Pip +persisted in his questioning. “What if we thouldn’t get +there at all?”</p> +<p>“O we will.”</p> +<p>Gov. Grimes and Wort had been very anxious to pull an oar, and +Will gratified them. But the governor could not row. Will had urged +him to stop. The governor’s resoluteness sometimes ran into +obstinacy, and it did now.</p> +<p>“Just see me row—away,” cried the governor, +refusing to stop, but as he was about to say “away,” +his oar slipped out of the rowlock, and he finished the sentence, +his feet going up into the air and his head going down into the +bottom of the boat!</p> +<p>“Caught a crab, governor?” shouted the +president.</p> +<p>The boat stopped in the midst of the commotion that followed the +governor’s tumble, and when Will started his craft again, he +did not appreciate the fact that its bow had shifted its aim.</p> +<p>“Where <em>are</em> we goin’?” inquired Aunt +Stanshy.</p> +<p>“Home,” answered Will. “I’m all right. A +few more strokes must fetch us all right to the wharf,” and +he pulled lustily on his oars.</p> +<p>“It is my fear that we are all wrong,” said Aunt +Stanshy. “I know something about this river, and about fogs, +and about people rowing round like fools and getting +nowhere.”</p> +<p>The members of the club now looked serious, and Will was +provoked at Aunt Stanshy’s remark.</p> +<p>“Halloo there!”</p> +<p>This was an unexpected shout from the heart of the fog, and +after the shout came a black boat, and in it was a man dressed like +a fisherman. He wore a “sou’wester” and a striped +woolen shirt, also big cow-hide boots that came above the knees of +his pants.</p> +<p>“Where are we?” asked Will. “Anywhere near +Wherren’s wharf?”</p> +<p>“Where are you? Wal, it is safe to say in a gin’ral +way that you are in the river.”</p> +<p>“I know that, friend,” said Will, “but are we +headed for the shore?”</p> +<p>“That depends on the shore you want to find. It’s my +opinion that if you young folks keep on just as your boat is +headed, you’ll strike Europe if you have good +luck.”</p> +<p>“Pshaw!” exclaimed the apothecary, “we +can’t be that much out of the way.”</p> +<p>“Try it and see.”</p> +<p>“Well, just where are we and which way ought we to go to +reach Wherren’s wharf?”</p> +<p>“We are now down near Forbes’s Island, +and—”</p> +<p>“Forbes’s Island!” screamed Aunt Stanshy. +“Did you ever!”</p> +<p>“And my compass says if one wants to get up river, he must +go in a direction directly opposite to that which you are now +taking!”</p> +<p>The apothecary’s face fell several inches, Charlie +thought.</p> +<p>“When you are out on the river, you are always safer to +have a compass, for fogs may come up and you don’t know where +you are. I’m goin’ up the river and I should be happy +to show you where Wherren’s wharf is, for you might as well +hunt for a clam inside of an iceberg as to hunt for the wharf down +here.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said Aunt Stanshy.</p> +<p>“Haven’t I seen you before, marm?”</p> +<p>“I dare say.”</p> +<p>“I was at your place and you gave me a job, sawing wood, +this summer.”</p> +<p>“O, is it you, mister? I see now.”</p> +<p>“The same one. One good turn deserves another; so +let’s go along together.”</p> +<p>All in the club were glad to see the man, excepting Wort.</p> +<p>Up the river they slowly but safely went, the fisherman guiding +his party through the fog to the place of landing. A part of the +way he had towed them along, throwing them the painter of his +boat.</p> +<p>“Whenever John Fisher can do you a favor, marm, let me +know it,” said the man.</p> +<p>“Three cheers for John Fisher!” shouted the club. +Wort joined in this, and he also said to himself, “I wish I +had told him not to mind my seeding him. I will, the next time; see +if I don’t.”</p> +<p>Peleg Wherren’s fish-house was a neighbor of the lane, and +from the boat the party passed to Aunt Stanshy’s. As Charlie +went along, he noticed a woman in the lane.</p> +<p>She wore a rusty black hood, a faded red shawl, and an old +calico dress. Her general look was that of poverty. She turned as +she heard the sound of steps, and, turning, chanced to face Aunt +Stanshy. Thereupon the two women both swung round and looked away, +like neighboring vanes struck by opposite currents of wind. Aunt +Stanshy started and went ahead rapidly. In a moment Charlie heard +some one crying. Looking back he saw it was Pip, who had fallen and +hurt himself. The woman in faded clothes was quite nigh, and +immediately running to Pip, helped him up, saying, in a pitying, +motherly way, “You poor little fellow!”</p> +<p>“She has a pleasant face,” thought Charlie. +“Who is it?”</p> +<p>He asked Simes Badger, who came down the lane.</p> +<p>“That? that is Jane.”</p> +<p>“Who is Jane?”</p> +<p>“Tim Tyler’s sister.”</p> +<p>“Old Tim’s?”</p> +<p>“Yes, and young Tim’s mother.”</p> +<p>“Where does she live?”</p> +<p>“O the Tylers all live in the same nest.”</p> +<p>“Jane and Aunt Stanshy, then, do not speak to one +another,” reflected Charlie.</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_11" name="Ch_11">Chapter XI.</a></h3> +<h2>The Club in Splinters.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>There is such a thing as a club breaking, going to splinters +even. This sad end of a club was experienced by the Up-the-Ladder +Club. It was not a strange thing, as all human organizations have +their ups and downs, and many have their downs especially.</p> +<p>It happened in this way.</p> +<p>“Boys,” said the president one day, +“let’s play school. I’ll be teacher. No; +let’s have a public declamation—pieces, you know, and +so on. Then we can charge something and perhaps get a little +money—nails, I mean.”</p> +<p>The real cash was scarce, and nails became a necessity.</p> +<p>“And not play school?” asked the literary governor. +“A school is real interestin’, you know.”</p> +<p>“Yes, we might play that afterward as a sort of +rest.”</p> +<p>“Agreed,” was the general sentiment. The old sheet +that had done service so many times was once more brought out and +strung across one corner of the barn chamber. An audience of three +was secured, the governor’s youngest brother, Pip’s +little sister, and Sid Waters’s young cousin from the +country. The members of the club gathered behind the sheet for +action, but the auditors, all of them plump children, were ranged +in a row upon a window-blind supported by blocks of wood. The first +piece was a song by Sid. He strutted out pompously and began, +“How beau—” He stopped. He had forgotten his bow. +Executing this, he started once more, “How beautiful the +cow—”</p> +<p>He was halting again.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“How beautiful the cow—”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>He hesitated once more.</p> +<p>“O beautiful cow,” sang out the roguish Wort behind +the sheet.</p> +<p>“Shut up!” shrieked the infuriated vocalist, rushing +to the bed-sheet. “Don’t interrupt me!”</p> +<p>He resumed his recitation:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“How beautiful the cow-slip</p> +<p class="i2">Upon the verdant mead,</p> +<p>How diligent the sower</p> +<p class="i2">Who drops the tiny seed.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>He continued and finished the piece amid great enthusiasm on the +part of the boys behind the sheet, who applauded tumultuously. +There was little movement on the part of the butter-tubs. They +opened their eyes and stared wonderingly. Then they opened their +mouths and grinned.</p> +<p>Charlie now appeared, announcing as his selection +“Independence Bell,” a subject which he commenced to +treat vigorously. The reference was to the bell at Philadelphia, +rung at the Declaration of Independence, and somebody behind the +sheet now began to shake a cowbell, a device which it was thought +would heighten the effect of the performance.</p> +<p>“’Taint time!” called out Charlie, turning in +despair to the curtain. Here Wort’s round, beaming face +appeared at a rent which was growing larger every few minutes.</p> +<p>“Tell me when,” he whispered.</p> +<p>Charlie resumed his recitation. Soon he whispered, “Go +it!” Didn’t Wort do his duty! No bell-ringer in +Philadelphia could have been more enthusiastic, and no cow astray +seeking after home ever wagged her bell so continuously. It was +afterward found out that every boy behind the curtain had a chance +to swing that bell, a fact accounting for the popularity of the +piece and for the tumultuous applause following it. The applause +came from brother-performers, but was none the less gratifying to +the speaker.</p> +<p>The final piece was by Wort, “The Last Rose of +Summer.” If given, no one can say how successful it might +have been, but while the subject implied a compliment to Wort and +those preceding him, the adjective “last” was ominous. +There were several boys struggling to look through the curtain, one +through the old rent Wort had used, and the others through new +rents that they had ingeniously made with their fingers. But what +curtain could hold up against the continued pressure of three stout +boys? There was nothing that such a curtain could do but come down; +and this it did, the three boys sprawling at the base of the stem +of the Last Rose of Summer—in other words, at Wort’s +feet! Wort, in turn, was ignominiously night-capped by the sheet, +for it completely covered him. The butter-tubs now gave way to +their sense of the ludicrous, and clapped and laughed merrily. This +did not please the four boys in or on the floor, who angrily rubbed +their shins. Sid declared that it was too bad to act as +disgracefully. All this was poor preparation for the serious duties +of school-keeping, to which the president now directed his +attention. With how much pomp and dignity he took up the duties of +school-teacher, confronting a row of uneasy boys occupying seats on +a green blind, each one wearing his cap!</p> +<p>“Hats off!” shouted Sid.</p> +<p>“Where are my books?” asked Charlie.</p> +<p>“They are probably where they ought to be, young man, in +your desk.”</p> +<p>Each boy then proceeded to take an imaginary reader out of an +imaginary desk. Wort, though, had a book.</p> +<p>“All properly supplied with readers? Open them. Read, +‘Merry Gentlemen,’ read. Wort may begin.”</p> +<p>There was no response.</p> +<p>“Read, I say.”</p> +<p>There was silence still.</p> +<p>“Do you mean to disobey me?”</p> +<p>“You haven’t told us what to read,” replied +Wort.</p> +<p>“Yes, I have.”</p> +<p>“You haven’t,” stoutly reaffirmed Wort. +“You said, ‘Merry gentlemen, read.’”</p> +<p>“I mean the piece called ‘Merry Gentlemen,’ on +page—well, you know. We have read it in school enough times +to know it, and then scholars ought to know their readers well +enough to be able to turn to any place and read without a book +even. Who is that speaking? Tell me. Haven’t I told you a +thousand times that there must be no speaking in this school? I see +the guilty scholar. Richard Grimes, come this way!”</p> +<p>“I didn’t.”</p> +<p>“No trifling, young man. Come this way,” and +collaring the refractory Rick, Sid led him into the closet. The +governor was not to be wholly suppressed, and kept protruding a red +pug-nose into very plain sight.</p> +<p>“Teacher,” called out Wort, “I see a red +sugar-plum sticking out.”</p> +<p>“Richard, come this way. You’re looking +out.”</p> +<p>“No, sir; it was my nose.”</p> +<p>“Hold out your hand. If you flinch, sir, you will receive +another.”</p> +<p>The punishment was moodily received, and the governor went back +to the closet. Charlie and Wort were soon consigned to the same +spot for disobedience. Pip was noisily moving about.</p> +<p>“Say,” whispered Sid, “Be good, and take your +seat properly.”</p> +<p>“Take your seat properly!” he then roared.</p> +<p>“Pip, you may read about the ‘Caravan,’ on the +fifth page. Take Wort’s book.”</p> +<p>“Jutht thee—” began Pip.</p> +<p>“Juggie and Tony, you may both go into the closet for +giggling,” sharply interposed the teacher. “Go +now!”</p> +<p>There were now five boys inside the closet, five restless +immortals with ten restless legs and ten restless arms.</p> +<p>“Read, Pip, about the caravan.”</p> +<p>“Jutht thee, the wild beathth—”</p> +<p>In harmony with this thought came a loud roar from the +closet.</p> +<p>“Now you’ve got to be better,” said Sid, +turning to the wild beasts, “or I will resign and I +won’t teach.”</p> +<p>“Let me be teacher,” squeaked Pip.</p> +<p>The principal, though, did not resign; but, advancing to the +closet or cage door, was about to make an appeal to his infuriated +caravan. They anticipated him.</p> +<p>“Teacher, Charlie is pinching me.”</p> +<p>“Ow! somebody’s on my foot.”</p> +<p>“There isn’t room! I can’t breathe!” +declared a third.</p> +<p>“It is disgraceful, boys, how you act,” said their +aged teacher. “You can’t play school worth a cent. Pip, +come here!”</p> +<p>The only scholar now on duty had disgraced himself by making up +faces behind his teacher’s back, and as Sid suddenly turned, +the culprit was detected.</p> +<p>“Pip, hold out your hand. There, take that!”</p> +<p>“Ow! you hit too hard.”</p> +<p>“He will cry. Don’t hit too hard!” shouted a +warning voice from the closet.</p> +<p>“Booh-ooh-ooh!” went Pip.</p> +<p>“I didn’t hit you hard,” explained the +“principal of the academy,” as he had several times +called himself. “You mustn’t be a-foolin’ in +school. If you were in a real school you would get worse whippings +than that.”</p> +<p>Pip’s only answer was, “Booh-ooh-ooh!”</p> +<p>“Wort, come here. You are not presenting a respectful face +to your teacher. I caught you, sir. Hold out your hand.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to.”</p> +<p>“Do you rebel?” and the principal swelled as if +ambitious to puff himself into a giant.</p> +<p>It is not pleasant to put it on record that Wort did rebel. He +refused to hold out his hand, and when Sid seized him he resisted. +Then a tussle set in, and it was doubtful whether the teacher would +floor the scholar, or the scholar floor the teacher. But they drew +off and scowled at one another like two thunder clouds.</p> +<p>“There,” said the principal of the academy finally, +“I am not going to be teacher any more. Who wants my chance +may have it.”</p> +<p>“And I won’t belong to this old club any +more,” said Wort, smarting under the castigation he had +received. “Who wants my chance may have it.”</p> +<p>“‘Tith an old club,” sobbed Pip, “and +who wantth my chanth may have it.”</p> +<p>“O, fellers, let’s not get mad,” said the +president.</p> +<p>“Pooh!” exclaimed the governor. “You can say +so, who gave all the lickin’s.”</p> +<p>“And not had one yourself,” said Charlie.</p> +<p>“O, fellers, don’t get mad,” besought Sid once +more. “You know it was for your good.”</p> +<p>This last remark was greeted with sneers, showing that +Sid’s labors for the welfare of youth were not appreciated. +There was not only a determination to get mad, but to stay mad. +Besides, the offended ones were moving toward the door, and this in +a quarrel always looks bad.</p> +<p>“Let it go,” said Sid. “I did not mean to hurt +you. Come, let’s march down stairs. I was going to have you +march down stairs properly, just as we do at school. Come, +let’s form a line.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and you be cap’n,” sulked Wort.</p> +<p>“You may be, then,” said Sid.</p> +<p>“I aint goin’ to march,” sobbed Pip.</p> +<p>That feather was too much for the camel’s back, especially +as the camel in this case was a two-legged one, and a boy like Sid, +and he made no further attempts at reconciliation.</p> +<p>“Go it as you please, then,” he said, angrily, and +it was, indeed, a go-it-as-you-please column that rushed down +stairs.</p> +<p>“I’m going home,” said Wort.</p> +<p>“O, don’t!” pleaded Charlie.</p> +<p>“Let him go!” shouted Sid.</p> +<p>“And me, too,” squeaked Pip, and a second sullen +knight passed out of the yard.</p> +<p>“It’s of no us staying here, and I guess I’ll +go off and find Billy,” observed the governor, and he left to +hunt up his absent cousin.</p> +<p>“My mother wants me, and I might as well go, for the club +is broken up,” said Sid. He sauntered out of the yard with a +reckless air, his hands in his pockets.</p> +<p>Charlie, Juggie, and Tony were now the only ones left, and they +looked at one another sorrowfully.</p> +<p>“Charlie! Come!”</p> +<p>It was Aunt Stanshy calling. Tony and Juggie now moved off, and +Charlie went into the house with a heavy heart.</p> +<p>“What <em>is</em> the matter, Charles Pitt +Macomber?”</p> +<p>“Club has broken up,” and Charlie’s lips +quivered.</p> +<p>“Mad?”</p> +<p>Charlie did not speak, but moved his head up and down like a +saw.</p> +<p>“Who? Sid, Rick, Wort, Pip?”</p> +<p>Each time the saw went up and down.</p> +<p>“Are you mad?”</p> +<p>“I was, but I am not now.”</p> +<p>“I’m sorry. I guess it’s a pretty bad case, +and the club has all gone to splinters.”</p> +<p>The club in splinters! All that day the chamber was deserted. It +was forsaken the next bright summer day. A mouse came out of his +hole, and, looking timidly about, gave a faint, surprised squeak. +The flies buzzed in the sunshine, and had all the time they wished +to hum through their tunes. The only other noise was the wind that +murmured about the door and the window that Aunt Stanshy had closed +up so resolutely.</p> +<p>Nobody came to climb the ladder, and it did have such a forsaken +look. Nobody troubled the sheet, or the closet, or the various +relics strewn about.</p> +<p>Alas! alas!</p> +<p>The club was in splinters!</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_12" name="Ch_12">Chapter XII.</a></h3> +<h2>The Club Mended.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>“Then the club is all broken up?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Charlie, mournfully.</p> +<p>“How did it happen?”</p> +<p>“You see, Will”—every body called the +apothecary’s clerk Will—“we had a school and Sid +kept it, and he licked the fellers, and they couldn’t stand +it.”</p> +<p>“I see.”</p> +<p>“But I think Sid wanted to make up.”</p> +<p>“And it was easier for him to make up than for the boys +who had got the lickings, was it?”</p> +<p>“I guess it was,” said Charlie, laughing.</p> +<p>“Too bad to be broken up!”</p> +<p>“Yes,” and Charlie’s laugh was turning to a +cry.</p> +<p>“You didn’t think of the notice stuck up on the +post, ‘No cross words?’”</p> +<p>“Why, no! I know I forgot all about it.”</p> +<p>“I don’t believe your teacher, Miss Barry, will be +pleased to know of the quarrel, as she is a kind, good-natured +lady, and makes folks kind to one another.”</p> +<p>“I ’spose she wont like it.”</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t you like to have your broken club +mended?”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” replied Charlie, excitedly. +“How?”</p> +<p>“There is one way to do it and fix all things right +again.” As Will spoke he also attended to his breakfast, +interjecting his words amid sips of coffee and mouthfuls of Aunt +Stanshy’s flaky biscuit. He was hungry, as he had been out +before breakfast in answer to a furious alarm of fire.</p> +<p>“You see, when a club is in pieces, that it may be mended +again, each piece must resolve to do what it can toward a coming +together again. Will you?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I will.”</p> +<p>“There’s one. Who is the next one to bring round, +the next piece of club to make willing to be joined to the +rest?”</p> +<p>“I guess Wort feels about as stuffy as any one. There he +is out in the lane now.”</p> +<p>“Is he? Go, get him.”</p> +<p>The “stuffy” splinter of the club was brought in. +Will had disappeared, but soon came back to the table, bringing +from his room a neat, white package of—Charlie’s +curious eyes could not guess what.</p> +<p>“Art you Wort Wentworth?” asked Will.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“I have some candy for you.”</p> +<p>Here the apothecary displayed various long, dainty sticks of +candy, exceedingly toothsome in their looks. There were +checkerberry-pipe and licorice-pipe and sassafras-pipe, +and—how Wort’s eyes did glisten and his mouth water as +he imagined the different kinds there!</p> +<p>Will did not forget, to Charlie’s joy, that another boy +present had also several sweet teeth. Having sweetened up +Wort’s disposition, Will said,</p> +<p>“You and Charlie will now do me a favor, won’t +you?”</p> +<p>“I will,” said Charlie, eagerly, who had great +admiration for the apothecary, but might possibly have been moved +also by great love for his candy.</p> +<p>“And I will,” said Wort, determined not to be +outdone by Charlie.</p> +<p>“Well, now, the club that has been broken is going to be +mended, and you two will forgive and forget, wont you?”</p> +<p>“I will,” declared Charlie, promptly.</p> +<p>Wort hesitated.</p> +<p>“Take this while you are thinking,” said Will, +pressing into Wort’s hands an extra large piece of +rose-pipe.</p> +<p>As he took it, Wort growled, “Sid began it.”</p> +<p>“But will you end it if Sid is willing to make up? You +wont hold out?”</p> +<p>“N—n—o.”</p> +<p>“There is Sid!” said Charlie.</p> +<p>“Where?”</p> +<p>“Going along the lane, that boy with a blue cap +on.”</p> +<p>“You two stay here, and tell Aunt Stanshy, Charlie, that +I’ll be back soon to finish my breakfast,” and away +went Will, without a hat, a cake of bread in one hand and a piece +of cheese in the other.</p> +<p>“If that fellow isn’t the greatest! He would leave a +funeral in just that way if the impulse took him,” declared +Aunt Stanshy, watching him from the window, and secretly admiring +him. “What a boy! He makes lots of trouble for me, O +dear!”</p> +<p>“Aint he funny?” asked Wort.</p> +<p>“Funny?” replied Aunt Stanshy, who did not intend +that any one else should depreciate her idol. “Funny? of +course not.”</p> +<p>All this time Will was chasing Sid, who was heading up the lane +and was about entering Water Street. Sid was in a hurry, and +unaware that he was wanted by any one in the lane, had broken into +a run; but Will had run to so many fires that he was equal to this +emergency and overtook Sid, laying a hand on his shoulder.</p> +<p>“What do you want?” asked Sid. “I want to +catch that man ahead there and borrow his clam-digger.”</p> +<p>“Come back to the house with me a little while.”</p> +<p>Any of the club boys would do any thing for Will, and Sid +turned.</p> +<p>“Good-morning, Mr. Somers.”</p> +<p>Will turned his head, so covered with wilfully curly hair. In +his hand were the bread and cheese still. He blushed as he said, +“Good-morning, Miss Barry.”</p> +<p>“Whew,” he said to himself, “the teacher has +caught me now!”</p> +<p>Several people indeed “caught” Will Somers, in that +way, that morning, and wondered what he was doing, running +bare-headed. He carried his point, though, captured Sid, and led +him back to the house.</p> +<p>“Now, Sid,” exclaimed Will, on his way to Aunt +Stanshy’s “there has been trouble in the Up-the-Ladder +Club, I learn, and I want to fix it up, and you will help me, will +you not?”</p> +<p>“O yes,” replied Sid, whose nature was not a hard +and implacable one.</p> +<p>“Wort is at the house, and you are willing to say you are +sorry you hurt him, and you want to make up and be good +friends?”</p> +<p>“O yes.”</p> +<p>When Will entered the house with his prize, the two met Wort +face to face.</p> +<p>“I want these two knights to make up and be good friends +again, because it is all foolish and wrong, you know, holding out +against one another,” said Will.</p> +<p>The two boys eyed one another, Sid grinning, Wort looking sulky +and foolish.</p> +<p>“Wort,” said the late principal of the academy, +“I am sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to do it, but I +suppose I was too anxious to keep up the discipline of the school, +and I got agoing, you know. Let’s shake hands and be +friends.”</p> +<p>Wort hesitated.</p> +<p>“You ought to do that,” said Will. “Shake +hands, Wort,” and as he spoke he carelessly but effectively +waved a stick of sassafras-pipe in Wort’s sight. It is one of +the most potent sticks that can be used for a boy’s +“<em>licking</em>.”</p> +<p>“Well, I will,” said Wort, “and I didn’t +mean to hurt you;” unwilling that Sid should be the only one +thought able to inflict an injury.</p> +<p>“I now announce,” said Will, “that soon as +possible, I shall take every boy down to Sandy Beach for an +afternoon’s fun; that is, every knight who makes +up.”</p> +<p>This had a magical effect. All the disaffected knights followed +the example of Sid and Wort, “making up” and joining +the beach-party. The excursionists had a capital time on that +occasion, and returned in such a frame of mind that it could be +considered as settled that the club, once in splinters, was now +mended.</p> +<p>The boys, on the subsequent Sunday, told Miss Barry that there +had been a quarrel, but, added Sid, “It is all fixed +now.”</p> +<p>“I am very glad there has been a reconciliation,” +replied Miss Barry. “If there had been none, I should have +felt that you were going down and not up the ladder. In our play we +can be moving up, and reconciliation is a round in the +ladder.”</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_13" name="Ch_13">Chapter XIII.</a></h3> +<h2>A Knight goes to Sea.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>“And do you want to come to my launching?”</p> +<p>“You going to be launched?” asked Charlie.</p> +<p>“Not exactly,” said Skipper Wentworth, Wort’s +father, “but my schooner is, and if you come to +Raynes’s ship-yard next Saturday, you will see her. You can +tell any of the other boys to come if they like. Wort will be +there.”</p> +<p>Charlie went down to the yard the day before the launching. The +schooner seemed to be an ant-heap where all the ants were stirring, +and all were on the outside, so many men were at work. The club +boys were quite numerously represented through their friends. +Sid’s father was flourishing a paint-brush high up on a +staging. Pip’s father and also Juggie’s cousin were +swinging their hammers about the cook’s quarters Pip’s +grandfather, a blacksmith, was inspecting some of the iron-work of +the vessel. A tall cousin of the governor was driving oxen. The +clanking chains of the oxen hauling timber for the building of +another vessel, the pounding of hammers, the shouts of the bosses +ordering the workmen, made a lively compound of sound. The next +Saturday, every thing was ready for the launching.</p> +<p>With eager eyes Charlie noticed all the movements of the +workmen. He saw them drive the wedges under the schooner, and heard +blow on blow as the wedges went in farther and farther. He saw them +knock away the props holding the schooner in place, and along the +ways, or planed timbers, well greased for the schooner’s +ride, he watched the vessel slowly then swiftly moving. Down, down +she went, lower and lower, so deep into the waiting arms of the +blue river, that the waters threatened to go over her, and then up +she came gracefully, bringing a bridal-veil of snowy foam with her, +and exciting the admiration of all the spectators, who vented their +feelings in an uproarious “Hurrah!” One of the +fortunate party that had permission to be in the vessel at its +launching was Wort Wentworth, the skipper’s boy.</p> +<p>“I must see every thing that there is,” thought the +inquisitive boy, and he turned, finally, into the state-room which +the skipper himself expected to occupy as his quarters in the +cabin. “Nice place,” he said, climbing into his +father’s berth, and there curling up into one corner.</p> +<p>The day had been an exciting one, and yet tiresome, and +Wort’s next movement was to gape.</p> +<p>“Sort of sleepy,” he said. The wind murmuring at the +open window of the state-room had a drowsy sound, and—and +Wort’s head gave a sudden fall. He opened his eyes, and said, +“This won’t do; I mustn’t go to sleep,” But +the wind continued to hum its drowsy tune as if saying, “Go +to sleep, go to sleep, tired boy, tired boy; there, there!” +Wort’s head rose and fell several times, and each time he +made a remonstrance. But the remonstrances were feebler one after +the other, his eyes refused to open, and there in the +captain’s state-room was a boy fast asleep!</p> +<p>It was the latter part of the afternoon, and one of the men at +work on the new vessel came to Wort’s father, and said, +“Cap’n, shall we let the schooner lie off in the stream +to-night, or do you take her to her wharf?”</p> +<p>“No chance for her at the wharf, and she must stay here +till Monday, and I don’t think any one need stay with her and +watch. She is so heavily anchored she can’t very well run +away. We will all leave. But where is my boy?”</p> +<p>“I think, cap’n, I see a boy like him going off with +your brother.”</p> +<p>“All right. My brother Nathan was here, and he will look +after Wort. Now we will go.”</p> +<p>When Skipper Wentworth reached home his wife told him that +“Nathan” had said something about taking Wort home with +him to spend a day or two at his farm, three miles away.</p> +<p>“Then Wort has gone with Nathan, wife?”</p> +<p>“I think he must have, as he has not come home.”</p> +<p>“He is with Nathan. All right.”</p> +<p>The good folks went to bed, and nobody told them where Wort was. +The little waves rippling about the schooner may have known, and a +bright, inquisitive star looking in at the cabin window may have +known, but neither wave nor star told the secret. Toward morning +Wort woke up. Where was he? He put out his hands expecting to feel +the soft feather pillow that Mother Wentworth daily laid upon his +bed. It was only a hard board that he felt above him and back of +him. Where was he? He rubbed his eyes wide open, and little by +little it came to him that he was in the cabin of the schooner. +What if the vessel should break away from her moorings and drift +off to sea? What if it had gone already, and this craft with a crew +of one were actually on her voyage? His heart thumped hard in his +fright. He crawled out of the cabin, making his way along as well +as he could over pieces of board, running into a carpenter’s +saw-horse provokingly left in the door-way, and stroking his legs, +he stepped outside. The wind from the water swept cool across the +vessel. Where was he? Adrift? He turned toward the sea. The light +at Simes Badger’s lighthouse was still blazing, but far away +above the dark, angry sea, there was a faint glow in the +heavens.</p> +<p>“Good!” thought Wort. “Father’s vessel +hasn’t broke loose, for there is the light-house where it was +yesterday, and that’s morning over there. She’s +coming!”</p> +<p>He turned toward the town. He saw one light shining from a house +window, and thought it must signify a sick person or an early +riser. Then he heard a cock crowing.</p> +<p>“Never knew a rooster had such a pleasant voice +before,” he said. All that he could do was to wait until +Simes Badger’s light went out, and day filled the eastern +sky, and not only roosters but human beings were stirring in +Seamont.</p> +<p>“Then some one will come and get me, I hope,” +thought Wort.</p> +<p>He patiently waited, watching the dark gurgling river and the +brightening sky.</p> +<p>About six o’clock Simes Badger pushed off his boat from +the light-house dock, leaving his assistant in charge.</p> +<p>“I must get my breakfast,” he said.</p> +<p>He leisurely rowed up the river.</p> +<p>“Ah,” thought Simes, “there is Skipper +Wentworth’s new craft. She sets easy in the water. She will +make as trim a fore and aft as ever left this harbor.”</p> +<p>He was now opposite the newly-painted black and green hull.</p> +<p>“Massy!” he exclaimed, resting on his oars, +“What’s that on deck? A hen there? Somebody is +wavin’ suthin’. Something must be wrong there. Let me +take a nearer look.”</p> +<p>He rowed close up to the vessel’s side, and there detained +his boat in the still, sparkling stream, raised his weather-tanned +face, and saw a very fresh, boyish face looking down.</p> +<p>“O, Mr. Badger, come and get me!”</p> +<p>“Wort Wentworth, is that <em>you?</em>”</p> +<p>Simes knew that Wort had a reputation for scrapes, but was not +prepared for this appearance under the present circumstances.</p> +<p>“What are you doin’ there? You all alone?”</p> +<p>“I got asleep in the cabin, and they left me +here.”</p> +<p>“And you been here all night? It is a wonder the sharks +didn’t eat you,” said Simes, who had a very vivid +imagination.</p> +<p>“The sharks?”</p> +<p>“Well, no matter about them things. I s’pose now you +want to go home?”</p> +<p>“Yes, if I can get down into your boat.”</p> +<p>“I’m willin’ to take you if you can get +down.”</p> +<p>“Couldn’t I shin down the chain-cable?”</p> +<p>“O no! Look round and find a piece of rope and make it +fast to something up there, and then drop your rope down here and +come that way.”</p> +<p>“What, drop myself down like the rope?” said Wort, +grinning.</p> +<p>“Tut, tut, boy! come down the rope! Didn’t I say so +plain as day? and if I didn’t, I will now.”</p> +<p>Wort found a rope, made one end fast to the rail, and then, +throwing the other end down to Simes, safely lowered himself into +the stern of the light-keeper’s boat. In fifteen minutes more +Wort was at home, to the surprise and joy of his parents.</p> +<p>The club boys heard about Wort’s experience, and had a +word to say concerning it.</p> +<p>“I say, Wort,” asked Charlie, “how do you like +going to sea?”</p> +<p>“Did you catch any waleths?” inquired Pip.</p> +<p>“What did the mermaids say to you?” asked the +governor.</p> +<p>“It is the last of your going to sea, Wort. You will have +to be a land-lubber,” said Sid.</p> +<p>This last remark touched Wort.</p> +<p>“No, sir! See if I don’t go to sea.” And go he +did. Skipper Wentworth thought it would be pleasant to have +Wort’s company the first voyage, which would terminate the +latter part of the year.</p> +<p>Mrs. Wentworth had every thing in readiness for her boy’s +comfort by the time the vessel sailed.</p> +<p>“What is her name?” he asked his father.</p> +<p>He only replied, “I want to surprise the club you belong +to.” One day, to the delight of the boys, he showed them the +name painted in conspicuous letters on the stern, “White +Shield.” It was a mild autumn day when the “White +Shield” went to sea. The club boys gathered on a wharf at the +foot of the lane, and watched the vessel drifting down the river. +They waved their handkerchiefs to Wort, who waved his in return. +Then they stood and followed with their eyes the vessel in its +flight. She passed Forbes’ Island, passed the light-house, +passed Rocky Reef, passed—out of sight.</p> +<p>That day, at twilight, Charlie went to Mr. Walton’s house. +The clergyman’s mother received a message which Charlie +brought from Aunt Stanshy, and asked him to come in.</p> +<p>“Sit down here,” she said, and placed a chair before +the open fire kindled on the edge of the autumn evening. “Sit +down, and rest.”</p> +<p>“‘The ‘White Shield’ has gone to +sea,” he remarked, anxious to give the latest news.</p> +<p>“The ‘White Shield’?”</p> +<p>“Haven’t you heard about her?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Why, I thought every body knew about the ‘White +Shield.’”</p> +<p>And did she know that Wort Wentworth had gone to sea in the +“White Shield?” No; she was ignorant of that important +fact. How narrow the circle of her knowledge was!</p> +<p>“I know one thing, though, little boy,” said the old +lady, “that the sea, which fascinates so many young people, +may prove to be a very hard master. O, I don’t like to hear +it roar on stormy nights!”</p> +<p>Then the old lady went to a picture of a ship at sea hanging on +the wall. There she stood and sighed. Charlie wondered what it all +meant.</p> +<p>“But there is one thing we can do on stormy nights,” +she added. “We can pray. And I sometimes think, nights when +the winds are roaring, how many souls all along the coast must be +kneeling while the sailors at sea are up in the rigging, climbing, +or furling the sails.”</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_14" name="Ch_14">Chapter XIV.</a></h3> +<h2>Setting a Trap.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Ring, ring, ring!</p> +<p>The bell of St. John’s was busily swinging, flinging notes +of gold and silver down upon the town, and in response, how many +people came out into the streets as if to pick up the gold and +silver shower. The bell was ringing for a temperance meeting. Many +were immediately interested in the subject of temperance; but +whether all would go, was a question. It was a serious doubt +whether those that the meeting wanted would feel that they needed +the meeting. There were several very important cases.</p> +<p>Case one—who?</p> +<p>Tim Tyler? He needed the meeting, but that is not the case here +intended, but Dr. Tilton, the apothecary. Dr. Tilton? Yes. For some +time it had been known he was in the habit of indulging in a glass, +“only a glass.” As a result, he had been helped home +drunk from his store. He did not feel desirous to attend the +temperance meeting.</p> +<p>Case number two, Tim Tyler? Not yet, but—Will Somers! Ah, +that was sad. If you could have seen Aunt Stanshy, you would have +thought it was the saddest thing in the world.</p> +<p>“O, Miss Barry,” said Aunt Stanshy, bursting into +tears, “I’m awful afraid I made an idol of that young +man—so nice, you know. I’ve seen my idols break one +after the other. I shouldn’t have said a word about it, but +he was seen on the street, and it became town talk, and it’s +all out and round. Dreadful, dreadful!”</p> +<p>“It is, and I’m afraid my uncle is responsible. It +is bad every way. There is need of a temperance work here. We are +all asleep,” replied Miss Barry, who was calling at Aunt +Stanshy’s, the two women opening their hearts to one another +during the call. Dr. Tilton was responsible for Will Somers’s +fall. One day, when Will was complaining of an ill feeling, the +apothecary had proffered wine as a remedy, and had offered it +several times when he was tired, and Will had fallen under the +influence of a seemingly innocent ally. People began to talk about +Dr. Tilton and his clerk. Then they began to shun the store. Not +all, though, for a line of red noses and trembling hands and +unsteady knees filed into the store, and not the sick people sent +orders, but old topers frequented the place more and more. Dr. +Tilton noticed the change, and was alarmed. Still he did not change +that habit of taking “only a glass.” Will Somers was +unhappy. He saw his mistake, and knew that the community frowned +upon him. He rarely whistled now. As for the musical instrument he +once loved to perform upon, it was a silent piece of furniture. He +had some fine qualities of character, and his vulnerable side was +his susceptibility to outside influence. The enemy had found a weak +wall on that side of his character, and there successfully +assaulted him. Will knew that his misconduct grieved Aunt Stanshy. +The club felt it, for by degrees the bad news reached them. It +seemed as if each one was burdened by a load of guilt—as if +having served in Dr. Tilton’s store, Charlie, Sid, Tony, and +the rest had there sinned, and, in consequence, each had been seen +tipsy on the street, and each carried a load that bowed him.</p> +<p>It was Charlie who happened to be at home when his teacher was +calling on Aunt Stanshy, and he accidentally overheard a fragment +of the conversation. When Miss Barry was fairly out of the house, +and Aunt Stanshy was returning through the entry to her +kitchen-work, sighing by the way, Charlie ran to her and excitedly +said, “We—we—will get up a meeting!”</p> +<p>“A meeting about what?”</p> +<p>“Why, why, temperance.”</p> +<p>“Who get it up?”</p> +<p>“We—we boys—our club.”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy guessed at once the occasion and object of +Charlie’s remarks, that he had heard the conversation between +her and her caller, and that this proposition for a temperance +meeting was to meet the grave necessities of the hour.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” he said, “let’s go and see +teacher about it”</p> +<p>“What, go now?”</p> +<p>“Yes, you and she can talk it over.”</p> +<p>In a few minutes Charlie and Aunt Stanshy were hurrying down the +street as if suddenly summoned by the pressing sickness of a +friend.</p> +<p>“O, let’s get Sid,” suggested Charlie, as they +neared Sid Waters’s house.</p> +<p>“Well,” replied Aunt Stanshy.</p> +<p>Sid, whose appetite never failed him, was eating a lunch, but he +responded at once to Charlie’s invitation to “Come +out.”</p> +<p>“What’s up, Charlie? I am the man for you,” +replied the president, who had an abundance of resources at his +command, and was prepared—in his own opinion—for any +emergency. “What is up? Down-townies round?”</p> +<p>“We want to have a temperance meeting. Come down to +teacher’s.”</p> +<p>“All right. Temperance meeting? The club get it +up?”</p> +<p>“I don’t just know, but we can talk it +over.”</p> +<p>“If they want a meeting, we can give ’em one,” +said Sid, confidently.</p> +<p>Thus re-enforced, Aunt Stanshy and Charlie presented themselves +at Miss Barry’s door.</p> +<p>“Come in, come,” said the teacher. “I have +just got home myself.”</p> +<p>“We—we have come,” exclaimed Aunt Stanshy, +“to see if we couldn’t have a temperance meeting! You +know we need it.”</p> +<p>“O, I see; and the boys?”</p> +<p>“The boys,” said Sid, proudly, “think you +could rely on them to—to—pull an oar.”</p> +<p>He felt it might be prudent not to propose to do the whole of +the rowing, and offer the town a meeting managed wholly by the +“Up-the-Ladder Club,” but modestly—to—pull +an oar.</p> +<p>“Splendid!” said the teacher, her enthusiasm +charming the boys. “Among us all, I guess we can manage +it.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know as I can do any thing except to get +people out,” said Aunt Stanshy, fearful that she might be +called upon to speak in the meeting.</p> +<p>“Let us go and see Mr. Walton,” suggested Miss +Barry.</p> +<p>“It would be the very thing,” declared Aunt +Stanshy.</p> +<p>Very soon Aunt Stanshy, Miss Barry, Sid, and Charlie started for +the minister’s. On the way, Juggie and Tony were secured as +new members of the column, and thus augmented, this eager +temperance band appeared at Mr. Walton’s door. Ushered into +the study, Miss Barry told her errand.</p> +<p>“We need a temperance meeting very much, and we will have +it at St. John’s, and I want you boys—the club, Miss +Barry—to do the most of the singing,” said Mr. +Walton.</p> +<p>“We will,” said Sid. “I know I can speak for +them.”</p> +<p>“And Miss Barry will teach them what to sing, +perhaps?” asked Mr. Walton.</p> +<p>“Yes sir,” replied Miss Barry.</p> +<p>“I’ll have my choir to help, but I expect the +‘Up-the-Ladder Club’ to do the most.”</p> +<p>The boys were eager in their interest. To encourage them, Miss +Barry said, “I’ll make a little blue cross to go inside +each white shield. A little blue cross—that is a temperance +sign—will look pretty on the white silk.”</p> +<p>“There, there, won’t they be proud of it?” +said Aunt Stanshy.</p> +<p>“Of course we will,” declared Sid. “Knights, +we must give three cheers for teacher when we get to her +door.”</p> +<p>During this conversation they were passing down the street, and +when Miss Barry’s door was reached, be assured that three +hearty cheers were given for her.</p> +<p>“Now three for temperance!” cried Sid. Then they +cheered for temperance.</p> +<p>“I feel that my boys are, indeed, mounting the ladder of +the true and noble,” was Miss Barry’s thought, as from +her window she saw the ardent young knights pass away.</p> +<p>The next day Aunt Stanshy met Miss Barry. +“Miss—Miss—Barry,” said Aunt Stanshy, +nervously clutching her companion’s shawl, “we +must—pray for our meeting.”</p> +<p>“O, we will, we will!”</p> +<p>There were earnest prayers going to God in behalf of that +meeting. As step after step might be proposed, prayer went up from +the altar of those two women’s hearts especially, beseeching +God to recognize and bless each step that might be taken. O in what +a cloud of prayer that enterprise was enveloped!</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy and Miss Barry were talking about the meeting one +day.</p> +<p>“I wish, Miss Barry, we could make sure that every body +would go to the meeting. Will Dr. Tilton go?”</p> +<p>“That’s what I am wondering about, and Will +Somers?”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy shook her head sadly: “He says, +No.”</p> +<p>“They must be there,” said Miss Barry, +“and—and—we must set a trap for them.”</p> +<p>“A trap?”</p> +<p>“I’ll ask my uncle to help the choir sing, +and—of course, he wont refuse. I don’t suppose he cares +to come to the meeting because he needs it, but if others go he +won’t want to be left out, and if he can sing, that will give +him a chance to attend. He is my uncle, you know.”</p> +<p>The “trap” for Dr. Tilton worked successfully. He +scorned the idea that he might need the meeting. This he said to +himself. However, he would help the choir sing, he said, to his +niece. But a trap for Will Somers! Who could make that?</p> +<p>“Won’t you come to the meeting to hear us +sing?” asked Charlie, with a sad face.</p> +<p>“O, you don’t want me, Charlie,” replied Will. +“O, I can’t go.”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy made no remark. She sat silently, busily thinking, +while Charlie and Will talked about the meeting. Aunt Stanshy was +making a “trap.”</p> +<p>The day before that appointed for the temperance meeting, she +went to her pastor.</p> +<p>“Mr. Walton, the meeting will begin at half past seven. +If—if—say about quarter after seven—you should +let Charlie and the other boys go down to the church door and sing +one or two of their pieces, it might draw folks in.”</p> +<p>“Why, that’s a good idea, and I wish you would ask +them.”</p> +<p>At a quarter after seven the next night the White Shields, each +carrying a neat cross of blue on his badge, appeared at the church +door and began to sing. It was the night when Dr. Tilton was +accustomed to close his store earlier than usual, if customers did +not appear; and at a quarter after seven Will Somers was accustomed +that night to pass the church door on his way home. Would he fall +into the trap that Aunt Stanshy had ingeniously set for him? The +club began to sing their hymns. There was the touching plea +containing the lines:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“O what are you going to do, brother?</p> +<p class="i2">Say, what are you going to do?</p> +<p>You have thought of some useful labor,</p> +<p class="i2">But what is the end in view?”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Tony sang this. It seemed that night as if some of Italy’s +sweet singers must have lent him their notes. The people began to +gather about the club. Aunt Stanshy was there on the watch, eager +to see if Will Somers might be coming down the street. Tony’s +voice warbled away. Now it was an exultant note that he touched, +and then his voice sank to a plaintive appeal:</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Is your heart in the Saviour’s keeping?</p> +<p class="i2">Remember, he died for you;</p> +<p>Then what are you going to do, brother?</p> +<p class="i2">Say, what are you going to do?”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>As Tony sang, there was a young man leaning against the fence +adjoining the church door. It was somebody listlessly leaning, +lifting to the light of the street lamp a face on which rested the +shadow of a great sadness.</p> +<p>“It’s he!” said Aunt Stanshy, excitedly.</p> +<p>Charlie heard her. He guessed that it was some one out on the +sidewalk whom she had discovered, and he stretched his small head +beyond the ring of singers, anxiously looking out into the shadows. +His sharp eye saw that form leaning against the fence. He could not +wait until the song was finished. He ran out upon the sidewalk, and +Aunt Stanshy followed.</p> +<p>“Do come, do come,” pleaded Charlie, as he seized +Will’s hand and gently drew him toward the church.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” said Aunt Stanshy, “We all want +you.”</p> +<p>And Will Somers irresolutely yielded to the gentle hands that +were drawing him, and entered the church.</p> +<p>What a meeting that was!</p> +<p>“Never seed the beat of it in my life,” said Simes +Badger, who was off duty at the lighthouse that night, and having +attended the meeting, reported it soon after to a band of his old +cronies. “Why, when the pledge was offered that +meetin’, it seemed as if every man, woman, and child would go +for it at once. No matter if they was as innocent of liquor as a +baby a day old; they jest walked up and took that pledge. And Dr. +Tilton, he couldn’t stand it, and he hopped down and he jined +the pledge. And his clerk, that Will Somers, he did write his name +handsome. O, it was a meetin’, I tell ye!”</p> +<p>Yes, it was a memorable evening. Dr. Tilton and Will Somers kept +their word faithfully, and society recognized the fact and +liberally patronized the doctor’s store, afterward.</p> +<p>“Got a new ’pothecary in our town,” said Simes +Badger. “At any rate, he’s good as new, and new things +draw. A ’pothecary can do amazin’ sight of harm if he +aint jest the right sort of man in his business.”</p> +<p>Society, outside the store, recognized the new life that Dr. +Tilton and Will had begun. They were received cordially by their +old friends. The club gathered about Will, treating him after the +fashion of the old enthusiastic friendship.</p> +<p>“He’s singin’ once more and a +playin’,” Aunt Stanshy said to a neighbor, “jest +as nice as can be. It does me good to see him.”</p> +<p>And Tim Tyler—where was he?</p> +<p>His sister Ann did hope he would be reached, but she folded her +old shawl about her shoulders and went away from the meeting, +saying sorrowfully to herself, “Tim didn’t +come.”</p> +<p>No, he was not at the meeting. He did not show any interest in +the movement.</p> +<p>“But—but we can’t give him up,” some of +his praying friends whispered.</p> +<p>And when our prayers refuse to let the angel of blessing go, was +that angel ever known to forsake us?</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_15" name="Ch_15">Chapter XV.</a></h3> +<h2>The Fair.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Poor Charlie! His life did not seem to him to be altogether +agreeable.</p> +<p>Being fat and good-natured, the boys were rather disposed to +pick on him. Then a standing vexation at school was his arithmetic. +In addition to these things, he had a special trouble one day to +grieve him. His class was reading a selection called the +“Miller.” The teacher, Mr. Armstrong, permitted the +members of the class to remain in their desks and there read. +Charlie abused this privilege by clapping his head below his desk, +and while the boys in another part of the room were reading, he was +doing his best to pack away a corn-ball.</p> +<p>“Time enough,” he had concluded, “before it is +my time to read, to have something good to pay for my old +arithmetic.”</p> +<p>His mouth was full of corn-ball and preparing itself to take in +more, when his teacher, watching the long detention of +Charlie’s head in such a humble posture, and suspicious of +the real reason, stole softly up behind Charlie and, looking over +his shoulder, was puzzled to decide whether the corn-ball was going +into Charlie or he into the corn-ball. He quietly stole back to his +desk and there abruptly shouted, “Macomber, you may read +about the ‘Miller’ at once.”</p> +<p>The shot struck. Charlie bounded up in great confusion, his +month full of corn-ball!</p> +<p>“Hold, Macomber!” said the master, in a very +sarcastic way. “It must be evident to you that a man cannot +successfully read about the grinding of corn, and yet be grinding +corn in his mouth at the same time.” Then he broke out into a +roar, “Stand out in the floor! You may do any further +grinding there. Stop after school, also!”</p> +<p>Unfortunate Charlie! When he went home at a late hour Aunt +Stanshy was disposed to rebuke him for his tardiness. This was too +much for Charlie. He broke out into a whimper: “I think I +have a sad life, only scoldings at home and scoldings and +arithmetic at school.”</p> +<p>“O, no!” said Aunt Stanshy, soothingly, guessing +that the little fellow had had some trouble that day, and had been +sufficiently punished for any fault; “O, no! not so bad as +that! Haven’t you a pleasant home?”</p> +<p>“Yes—you—you are kind, I know, real +kind.”</p> +<p>“Well, don’t think any thing more about it. Here is +a big piece of mince pie.”</p> +<p>He had not eaten more than one half of his lunch when he felt +very much comforted, and the outside world brightened very +perceptibly. To comfort him still further Aunt Stanshy allowed him +to go after several boys and bring them to the barn, and it was in +connection with this gathering that a new and important enterprise +was suggested by one of the boys.</p> +<p>“It’s something that will pay,” said Sid.</p> +<p>Every body wanted to believe it and was willing to help it +along. Soon Charlie came running from the barn into the +kitchen.</p> +<p>“Aunt Stanshy, will you please lend me your +scales?”</p> +<p>“My what?”</p> +<p>“Your scales for weighing, please.”</p> +<p>“What on earth is it now?” exclaimed Aunt Stanshy. +It was a—so the placard on the barn door stated—it was +A FAIR!</p> +<p>Charlie did not have much to say about it, but through the +remainder of the day often hummed, or smiled and chuckled +complacently. When Aunt Stanshy had lighted the kerosene lamp that +had a big lion’s claw for a base and boasted a yellow shade +covered with green shepherdesses and blue sheep, then Charlie sat +down at the center-table and for an hour was exceedingly busy. +About eight he held up an object to Aunt Stanshy.</p> +<p>“What is that, Aunt Stanshy?” he asked.</p> +<p>“A rag-man,” she replied, promptly.</p> +<p>The artisan’s face dropped and a pout came out. A smile +though quickly smoothed down the pout, and he exclaimed, in +triumph, “Santa Claus! He’s a friend of our club! We +thought we would be in season for Christmas, and people could buy +their presents of us, and—and—will you buy?”</p> +<p>“I will—buy—that.”</p> +<p>“You will? I’ll give you a kiss for that,” and +Aunt Stanshy’s young lover came up to her and in his delight +gave her a kiss. Of a tuft of cotton Charlie had made a head. +Another tuft furnished a body; two more supplied arms to work with, +and two more supplied legs to stand on. Charlie put a +three-cornered hat on Santa’s head and tied together the +parts of his body with a girdle of pink worsted. A card on Santa +announced the fact that he could be bought for TWO CENTS.</p> +<p>Charlie trembled when Aunt Stanshy’s eyes were directed +toward the price lest she might not think it worth the money.</p> +<p>“What’s that?”</p> +<p>“Two cents,” replied Charlie, in fear.</p> +<p>“O! Well, I’ll give that.”</p> +<p>“You will?” said Charlie, in delight. +“I’ll give you another kiss.”</p> +<p>“Charlie,” said the blushing Constantia, +“you’ll make a fool of an old woman like me.”</p> +<p>In the night the lips of the sleeping Charlie parted as he said, +with a smile, “Two cents!” When this good news of the +first sale was announced to the club in the morning, it threw the +members into a feverish excitement.</p> +<p>“First-rate opening, fellers,” declared the +president, “even before we have opened any thing.”</p> +<p>“We don’t open,” said the governor, +“till school is out to-night.”</p> +<p>“Let’s open now,” said Billy Grimes, in the +excitement of his enthusiasm over the news;</p> +<p>“What a booby!” said the governor, in plain +language. “We have got no things here yet, and there are no +buyers, and we must all clear out to school in ten +minutes.”</p> +<p>The governor’s massive logic crushed the foolish Billy at +once.</p> +<p>“Let’s open in good style,” said the +president, “and do it to-night.”</p> +<p>By fifteen minutes after four, just as soon as a lot of +scampering, shouting boys could get to the barn, bringing pockets +stuffed with “articles,” the fair was declared +“opened.”</p> +<p>“But how dark it is!” said the president.</p> +<p>So it was. The boys had forgotten how early the sun was setting +in the November days.</p> +<p>“Let’s postpone it till to-morrow afternoon, when +there’s no school,” said Charlie.</p> +<p>“Who’s agreed?” asked the president.</p> +<p>“Me!” responded the club, vociferously. They all had +prudently concluded to wait for the advent of more daylight, and, +withdrawing from the barn, went down the yard talking as busily as +if they were a lot of hens cackling after a successful venture at +egg-laying. It had been left to Charlie to put above the notice, +“FAIR,” the word “POSTPONED.”</p> +<p>“That will prevent any rush till morning, and save folks +from being disappointed,” Sid had declared.</p> +<p>In the afternoon every thing was under way, and Aunt Stanshy +went out to see the fair.</p> +<p>“I should never know the place, I must say,” +remarked Aunt Stanshy, as her eyes swept the spot. There were +several so-called “tables,” such as an old window-blind +and a disused shelf propped up by various supports like boxes and +barrels. These tables were covered with pieces of the old curtain, +now doing service for the last time.</p> +<p>“Here is the confectionery table,” shouted Juggie. +There were now on the table three pieces of molasses candy made by +his grandmother. He had had twelve to start with, and, as he had +sold none, the disposition of the missing nine pieces was a matter +of grave suspicion.</p> +<p>“Here’s the toy table!” called out Charlie. He +had a few paper dolls and a few “hand-painted” shells, +the decorator being Sid, and prominent on the table was the cotton +image of that friend of the club, Santa Claus.</p> +<p>“Buy a corner-copier stuffed wid candy!” shouted +Juggie, holding up a brown paper tunnel into which he was about +dropping a solitary piece of candy.</p> +<p>The governor had the “harvest table,” which was +groaning under the weight of three pears and two papers of +seed.</p> +<p>“What’s this?” asked Aunt Stanshy, stopping +before a discarded mantel-piece resting on a rabbit-box and a +coal-hod. On this “table” were autumn leaves, sprigs of +hemlock, a few ferns, and one chrysanthemum blossom.</p> +<p>“Thith?” replied Pip, who, like all the others, had +put on a “Sunday smile” to attract customers. +“Thith ith a flower table. Will you buy a flower?”</p> +<p>“If I can see one,” said Aunt Stanshy, laughing.</p> +<p>“There,” said Pip, triumphantly holding up the +lonely chrysanthemum. “One thent only! Thomething +rare!”</p> +<p>“I’ll buy it, and here is the cent.”</p> +<p>“Cath!” sang out Pip, in tones of command, addressed +to a supposed cash-boy.</p> +<p>No one responded.</p> +<p>“Cath!”</p> +<p>“Why, you are the cash-boy,” said the president, +“and you bring the money to me, for I am the +cashier.”</p> +<p>“I tend a counter,” squeaked Pip. A serious +misunderstanding as to positions in the fair here threatened to +arise, but it was all averted by the obliging Tony, who undertook +to transport all bullion from the tables to the cashier’s +office.</p> +<p>There now appeared the president’s little sister, +“Callie Doodles,” as she was familiarly called.</p> +<p>“O, boys, she’s got a cent, for mother promised it +to her! She isn’t a nail-one!” shouted her brother.</p> +<p>Nail-ones belonged to an inferior caste. This class included +those who had been about the streets and yards, back of barns and +in old corner-lots, picking up nails or cast-away bits of iron. +Their currency was the more common. A hard-cash customer was about +as common as bobolinks in December.</p> +<p>“Callie, come here and buy some fruit!”</p> +<p>“Don’t you want some candy, Callie?”</p> +<p>“Buy a toy, Callie!”</p> +<p>“Flowerth! flowerth!” were the various shouts +greeting the cash customer. She was saluted eagerly, as hack-men +hail the arrivals in the trains at a city station. Callie made no +reply, but stubbed in a demure, dignified way, from table to table, +finally halting where children’s strongest passion is sure to +take them, at the candy table. Here she traded away her cash.</p> +<p>“And wont you try a piece?” said Juggie to Aunt +Stanshy, displaying his stock of two pieces of candy. “Try +dese goods.”</p> +<p>She graciously took the sample.</p> +<p>“How do you sell candy?”</p> +<p>“Cent a stick.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll take it.”</p> +<p>“Two cents,” said Juggie, prudently charging for the +piece given on trial also.</p> +<p>As Aunt Stanshy left this enterprising trader, she heard a +vigorous summons:</p> +<p>“Cash! cash!”</p> +<p>At the supper-table that night Charlie asked, “Aunty, what +do you suppose we are going to have now in our club? Something at +our fair, I mean?”</p> +<p>“A tornado.”</p> +<p>“No, a refreshment saloon; and the boys said they knew you +would be in every day to buy something.”</p> +<p>“O dear!” groaned Aunt Stanshy, inwardly.</p> +<p>“We are going to have ice-cream, too, may be. We +couldn’t afford it in summer.”</p> +<p>“Not in summer? Why, that’s the time when people +want it most.”</p> +<p>“But we make ours out of snow, you know, and could only +have it in cold weather.”</p> +<p>“Then I hope, for your sake, we may have some snow, and I +see that the clouds look like it. But the weather is getting colder +nowadays, and if you have your snow, and so can make your +ice-cream, it may be so cold that you will have no +customers.”</p> +<p>“We will risk <em>that</em>. Ice-cream always pays. Ours +does, at any rate.”</p> +<p>“Snow is coming, I guess, for it looks like a change in +the weather.”</p> +<p>A change, indeed, was setting in. The river indicated it. It was +as smooth and glassy as if Aunt Stanshy’s flat iron had been +over it and pressed every wrinkle and ripple down. The air was +light. The smoke from the houses and the steam from the only tug +that the commerce of the town could afford to support fell, and +fluttered downward in thin veils. Overhead there was a mass of gray +cloud halting directly above the town, and looking too lazy ever to +stir again.</p> +<p>“Storm comin’!” declared Simes Badger to all +his cronies at Silas Trefethen’s store. “Wind is +sou’ already.”</p> +<p>It did not stay “sou’,” but swung around to +the east, then worked into the north-east, and then all through the +night the wind was sifting cotton-wool down on all the streets as +if carpeting them, on all the roofs as if blanketing them, into all +the cracks in the walls of houses and barns as if it would chink +them up and make them tight for winter.</p> +<p>Chancing to look out of the window as soon as he was awake the +morning after the storm, Charlie shouted,</p> +<p>“Ice-cream!”</p> +<p>“Yes, all you want,” said Aunt Stanshy, who, leaving +her coffee-pot, her pan of fried potatoes, and batch of biscuit on +the kitchen stove, had mounted the stairs to wake the sleepy +Charlie.</p> +<p>“Boys will soon be here to make it.”</p> +<p>“I warrant you! They will make their ice-cream before +shoveling the folks’ paths at home.”</p> +<p>It looked so, for half a dozen boys were out in the yard by +eight o’clock, shouting “ice-cream” to Charlie, +who had not finished his breakfast.</p> +<p>With the help of Aunt Stanshy’s “essences” +enough snow was flavored to meet the demands of customers, who, +quickly notified, quickly appeared, bringing the contents of all +the nail-boxes at their homes. Even Aunt Stanshy was prevailed upon +to buy a dish, and she consistently paid cash for it.</p> +<p>Her boarder, Will Somers, was induced to promise more extensive +patronage.</p> +<p>“Will, we all think you a first-rate feller,” said +the artful president; “and just to help us out at the fair, +couldn’t you take your meals at our restaurant? Our mothers +say they will cook us things—steak, you know, and so +on.”</p> +<p>“Y—e—s, I will try it for—the +present.”</p> +<p>For some reason the “things” said to have been +promised—“steak, you know, and so on,” did not +arrive. Will gave out soon after noon the first day.</p> +<p>“Aunt Stanshy, I shall starve if I stay there,” said +Will, appearing at her pantry door; “and if I didn’t +starve, they would kill me with their abominable +‘cream’ that they make me buy, though they say it is at +a reduced price.”</p> +<p>The restaurant was given up very soon. The president said that +people had left the sea-side for the city, and they could hardly +expect enough home trade to make it pay.</p> +<p>Pip thought he could make his table pay if he had some flowers +to set it off. But that was not all; he was envious of +others’ success. The fair had been characterized by the usual +amount of “human nature” displayed on such occasions, +and Pip now exhibited his peculiarities. For ten cents he bought a +few white flowers at a hot-house, and then thought he would get +ahead of the boys and be at the barn at an early hour, making sure +for himself any possible customers.</p> +<p>“To give all an equal chance,” declared the +president, “to make it the same for those who get up early +and those who lie abed, the barn will be open at nine +o’clock, except on holidays, when we will accommodate the +public at an earlier hour.”</p> +<p>Pip thought he would be on hand by eight one morning. He would +then be sure to catch any “nail custom,” as that was a +class apt to be astir early, hunting up currency before other +people had a chance at it. But the weather had stiffened since the +storm. It was too cold to be agreeable, and even the +nail-customers, usually so early at the barn, were now at home +hugging the kitchen stove. Pip stood alone at the grand flower +table. His blossoms lay unsought upon the table.</p> +<p>“Pip! Pip!”</p> +<p>It was the governor down in the yard.</p> +<p>“We are going to see them skate on the pond back of the +mill. Come, go!”</p> +<p>Pip could hardly be coming and going at the same time, but he +left his table and left his flowers. That day, the cold increased +steadily.</p> +<p>“It is nippin’ cold,” said Aunt Stanshy to a +neighbor, and what did Jack Frost do but take out his nippers and +clap them on Pip’s flowers! The next morning, Pip found a +little heap of frozen petals on the “flower-table.” He +could no more make them into flowers than if they had been petals +of snow!</p> +<p>That day, “owing to the weather,” the +“Fair” was closed. The boys divided the little heap of +cash and the large heap of nails, and each knight took his share. +The club now ceased to have an active existence. It became like any +other stick that is laid aside and set up in the corner. It seemed +as if the knights had forgotten that they belonged to a club whose +expressive title suggested energetic movement.</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_16" name="Ch_16">Chapter XVI.</a></h3> +<h2>The Fire.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Will Somers belonged to the “Cataract,” which was +not a “steamer,” but a hand-engine. To belong to the +“Cataract” it was necessary to own a red flannel shirt, +a good pair of lungs, and a nimble pair of legs. The +shirt—did that mean fire? The lungs enabled one to do all the +“hollering” that might be necessary. The legs were +still more essential, that the engine might move with proper speed +to a fire, and this was at a neck-breaking pace. As the engine +company had many alarms to answer, some of them purposely raised to +enable the company to “show off”—so Simes Badger +said—the legs of a Cataract-boy were not the least valuable +of his fire-apparatus. And then it did seem as if the company all +took a fiendish delight in going “like mad” by the +homes of old women and all single ladies like Miss Persnips, +tossing their red helmets—I omitted this essential piece of +property—directing at the windows defiant glances, and all +the while their sharp, cracked engine-bell went up and down, over +and over, as if it were an insane acrobat.</p> +<p>“Fire! Fire!” screamed a female voice, one +afternoon. The screamer was Miss Persnips.</p> +<p>“Where, where?” shouted Simes Badger.</p> +<p>“O, there, there! I know it must be,” was the +answer.</p> +<p>That was all Simes wanted, and especially as Mr. Walton was +holding a service at St. John’s. If Simes could excite a +neighborhood, and also create a sensation in church, he was happy. +He now rushed into the church-vestibule, and then into the +bell-tower, and seizing the rope pulled it as if the small-pox had +broken out and attacked every other person in the community. Simes +being the one to make the bell boom, “Danger!” he gave +evidence that this one person certainly was not afflicted with the +malady.</p> +<p>In just two minutes from the first rap on the bell, Will Somers, +leaving behind him a caldron of boiling herbs, was at the door of +the engine-house, and unlocking it, had seized the long rope +attached to the engine. There were enough who joined him to rush +out into the street the clumsy machine. There they received large +re-enforcements.</p> +<p>“Where is the fire?” bawled the foreman.</p> +<p>Nobody knew.</p> +<p>“Where is the fire, Simes?” the bell-ringer was +asked as the engine rattled toward the church-door.</p> +<p>“Miss Persnips!”</p> +<p>Simes meant not the place of the fire, but the source of the +information.</p> +<p>“Miss Persnips’s house is afire!” shouted the +engine-men. It was enough. They rushed for that lady’s place, +and seeing a column of smoke above her roof, concluded that its +source was directly below, and stopping at a pump this side of her +house, ran their hose down into the well. They were working the +brakes at a lively rate and preparing for a thorough bombardment of +the building, when fortunately she appeared, screaming, “Fire +is over there, beyond the woods!”</p> +<p>The smoke had now shifted its coarse, and rolling away from Miss +Persnips’s, hung in a dark, sullen cloud above the forest but +a little way off.</p> +<p>Away went the engine and its allies, sweeping along men and +boys, and also every able-bodied member of the Up-the-Ladder Club +whose legs could carry him. Down past shops and houses and farms +rushed the crowd, pulling along several fat men who had grasped the +rope. By and by they came to a farmer in a red shirt who pointed +his spectacles at them across the top-rail of the fence at the +right of the road.</p> +<p>“Where’s the’ fire, squire?” excitedly +asked the foreman.</p> +<p>“Fire? I don’t know of fire,” replied the +farmer, coolly, “at leastways, any fire that is worth +puttin’ out. I have got a bonfire in back here, and it was +purty big, and its smoke you may have seen in the village. If you +want to stretch your muscle and soak your hose—and that is +about all you engine-people do—you may come and play on my +bonfire.”</p> +<p>“Come and play on <em>you</em>” shouted an angry +voice.</p> +<p>“Put out <em>him</em>” screamed another.</p> +<p>“Play away, One,” bawled a third, giving the number +of the engine as known at fires.</p> +<p>There was now a half-joking, half-angry comment on the +“squire,” and there were enough there desirous of +wetting down, not his bonfire, but its builder. The foreman quieted +the strife and the “Cataract” started for home. A +willingness was expressed to moisten “Miss Persnips’s +place” because she had misled them, though it was +unintentional on her part.</p> +<p>Some one sang out, “She can’t tell about smoke. She +has only one good eye, and t’other one is a glass +eye.”</p> +<p>This put them all in a good-natured mood, and the +“Cataract” went home.</p> +<p>Soon there was a fire serious enough to satisfy the most ardent +of the company. A milder style of weather had been prevailing after +the late snow-storm. The sun had put extra coal on its fires and +melted all the snow. Then came a wind that blew continuously two +days, drying the grounds and the buildings.</p> +<p>“I notice, Somers,” said Dr. Tilton, “that you +did not have good luck in finding a fire that last alarm, but if +one is sounded now, I guess it will amount to something. Fearful +dry, it is getting to be.”</p> +<p>The doctor was a true prophet. The next alarm did amount to +something. One morning about half past seven, there echoed in the +narrow streets of Seamont a cry that plain meant bad news. Will +Somers heard, and might be said to have <em>seen</em>, that cry. He +had taken down the shutters of his employer’s store, and was +hanging in the windows two very gaudily lettered placards, “A +balm for all, Jenkins’s Soporific,” “The need of +an aching world, Muggins’s Liniment.” Will heard that +magic cry, “Fire—re—re!” He turned and saw +a man coming down the street. He was not only coming, but running, +his hat off, and his mouth open wide enough to take in a ten-cent +loaf of brown bread, Will thought.</p> +<p>“Woolen mill on fire!”</p> +<p>“Woolen mill!” gasped Will, and his first thought +was, “glory enough for one day.”</p> +<p>The woolen mill was in a pretty little hollow, a nest whose +walls were spreading elm-trees. The mill was a relic of the old +industries of the place and represented a vain effort to make +Seamont a “manufacturing center.”</p> +<p>“Then the fire is down in the hollow,” thought Will. +He saw somebody approaching who he thought might be a customer, but +he quickly decided the question whether he owed a greater duty to +one person or to many—the public—by turning the key in +the lock of the door. Then he hurried away. As he rushed to the +house of the “Cataract,” he stopped at the door of Dr. +Tilton’s home.</p> +<p>“There,” he said to Biddy Flannigan, who answered, +“tell the doctor there’s a tremendous alarm in town, +and I thought he might want me to go, as he is an owner, and here +is the key.”</p> +<p>“What?” said Biddy.</p> +<p>“Woolen mill’s afire, tell him.”</p> +<p>“Woolen Mill Sophia! Who is she?” wondered Biddy, +and she went to report to the doctor.</p> +<p>“Faith, sir, yer clerk says there is a tremenjus +’larm in town and it’s about Woolen Mill Sophia, and +here is the key, sir.”</p> +<p>“Woolen-mill what?” asked the doctor. “I am an +owner up there.”</p> +<p>“Indade! It must be that Sophia works up there.”</p> +<p>“Sophia?” the doctor asked, and then stared at her +and exclaimed, “It is ‘woolen mill’s +afire!’ My! Where are my boots? Quick! Bertha, bring down my +boots, please.”</p> +<p>This last request was shouted up stairs to his niece, Bertha +Barry, who was making a brief visit at the doctor’s. Bertha +quickly appeared, boots in hand, her blue eyes looking bright and +fresh as the spring violets just gathered from the fields.</p> +<p>“Bertha, it’s the old mill that is afire. Will +Somers has left the key of the store here and gone to the fire. I +can forgive him this morning, though I did think his duties as a +fireman began to interfere with his duties as an apothecary. Let me +see! I’m all ready, I believe—guess I must go up to the +fire. Tell your aunt I have gone to the fire and I’ll be +back—when I arrive.”</p> +<p>Off went the doctor. Bertha delivered the message to her aunt +and went down stairs. Then she looked out of the window and watched +the people on their way to the fire.</p> +<p>“Guess I’ll go to the fire, too,” said Bertha, +“if aunt is willing.”</p> +<p>“Och,” said Biddy, as she watched the departing +Bertha, “we’ll all be fur goin’ up to see Sophia. +The saints defind us!”</p> +<p>The fire had started in the waste room of the old mill. Somebody +had once insisted on isolating this quarter as much as possible, +and brick partitions had been put up that happily interfered with +the spread of the fire and allowed all the operatives a chance to +escape. The fire finally reached an elevator. It then darted with +startling rapidity to the top of the building, shooting up like an +arrow sent by a destructive hand below. The flames were now +spreading every-where in the highest story. People gathered from +the town, and the engines soon were working.</p> +<p>“Get every body out of the building!” said a +commanding voice, owned by a man who had just arrived.</p> +<p>“Of course! That’s what we have just been +doing,” said a second.</p> +<p>The cry now arose, “Two boys in the mill!”</p> +<p>Some one said that the boys had made their escape with the other +operatives, but had gone back into one of the lower stories after +their overcoats.</p> +<p>“Boys in the mill!” rang out the fearful cry.</p> +<p>The owner of the commanding voice rushed forward into the lower +entry of the mill, swinging an ax. Will Somers found him at the +door trying to cut round the latch.</p> +<p>“What’s that for?” asked Will.</p> +<p>“Want to get ’em out, you fool!”</p> +<p>“Have you tried the door?”</p> +<p>“N—n—o.”</p> +<p>Will seized it, pulled it, and open it came!</p> +<p>Will was brave, and, in such an emergency as the present, +generally took his wits with him. The room was full of smoke. He +stepped in and shouted, but there was no response. While at the +door of the first room, he heard some one behind saying, +“Boys in the next story, they say.” Will turned and +sprang up stairs. Just ahead was the person who had recently +spoken. The proprietor of the commanding voice was now retreating, +his ax over his shoulder, stepping proudly out in the consciousness +that he had done a memorable thing. Up the stairs went Will and his +companion, the smoke thickening about them. Reaching the second +floor and pushing open the door of the adjoining room, they +saw—was it a boy on the floor? He had evidently striven to +gain the door, but when he had almost reached it, had succumbed to +the suffocating smoke, falling with arms stretched out toward the +goal he desired to secure. And who was it running toward them, boy +or man, the smoke parting about him as he advanced, then closing up +again? It was a boy rushing for the door, trying to make his way +through the smoke which, light as it was, proved too heavy a burden +for him, for down he dropped, felling flat upon his face. It was +the work of a moment apparently to seize the boys and carry them +out into the entry.</p> +<p>“Thank God for strong arms!” said Will Somers, +lifting one boy and starting off with him.</p> +<p>“Yes, thank Him for every thing good,” answered his +companion, shouldering the other prize. They descended the stairs. +How the smoke had increased! They had been absent longer than they +thought, and in that time the fire was rapidly advancing toward +them. They heard a loud noise without, a shout rising above the +crackle and roar of the flames. Then voices were heard at the foot +of the stairs: “Come this way! Quick! Hurry!” As Will +passed through the lower entry, he chanced to glance into the room +whose door had been left open by the knight of the ax. A draft had +been created, and Will could see that the flames were springing +toward the outer air.</p> +<p>“This way! Hurry!” people were shouting, and through +the almost blinding, bewildering, suffocating smoke, Will and his +companion bore the trophies they had snatched from the flames.</p> +<p>“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” went up heartily from the +dense, black crowd below. The rescued boys were laid upon the grass +at a safe distance from the burning mill. The people began to +gather about them.</p> +<p>“Ah, poor Tim, poor Tim!” said a woman, bending over +one of the boys.</p> +<p>“That’s Ann there with Tim Tyler,” said +Charlie to Sid Waters, these two enterprising knights having made +good use of their legs and quickly reached the spot.</p> +<p>“Who’s Ann?”</p> +<p>“It is Tim’s mother.”</p> +<p>“I recognize the other boy. It’s Bob +Landers.”</p> +<p>“Will Somers, this you?” asked Charlie.</p> +<p>“It will be when my face is washed. Dirty work at +fires.”</p> +<p>“Why, Mr. Walton, is this you? What a ’ero! Did you +save one of them boys?” squeaked Miss Persnips to +Will’s companion.</p> +<p>The minister’s face was not very clean after his fight +with the sooty enemy, but as Will thought, “Love sees through +all disguises.”</p> +<p>“Yes, here I am, and if some of you good people will carry +these boys home, the rest of us will soak down those tenement +houses opposite the mill and see if we can’t save +them.”</p> +<p>“The dear man! So disinterested, and before he had got his +face washed,” said Miss Persnips, pressing nearer to gain a +better look at the object of her admiration.</p> +<p>“Miss Persnips, excuse me,” said the foreman of the +“Torrent,” the great rival of the +“Cataract,” “but unless you withdraw, we shall be +obliged to wash you out of the way with the hose. Play away, +Three!” he roared.</p> +<p>“O, massy!” screamed the shop-keeper, retiring to a +safe place.</p> +<p>Will Somers went back to his place at the brakes of the +“Cataract.” As he passed the door of the mill he looked +into the entry, “What a blaze!” he said.</p> +<p>It was not surprising that the flames had swept forward with +such rapidity. Up those old wooden stairs drying for years, greasy +with the oil drippings of the mill, the fire leaped and flew even +rather than leaped. The flames were reaching out like long, forked +arms, vainly clutching after the two boys that had been snatched +away. The building was now the plaything of the flames. Through it +and over it, now climbing to the highest point of the old-fashioned +roof, then searching down into the cellar, scorching, raging, +roaring every-where, went the fire. In places unexpected the flames +would show themselves, looking out like the faces of firefiends. +Then they would retire a moment, only to come again and burst out +with a fury that nothing could resist, a fury that raged and rioted +till beams, rafters, flooring, and stair-ways were a black, ashy +heap, sputtering and hissing toward the sky—a snake heap full +of hot fangs.</p> +<p>“I wonder how that fire started,” was a frequent +exclamation. “Don’t know,” said every body save +one poor, old tobacco-ridden man who confessed that he had been +smoking in the waste room, the place where the fire started.</p> +<p>“When you see a man shoving a lighted pipe into sich a +place.” said Simes Badger to the gossippy circle at Silas +Trefethen’s store that night, “send in a bucket of +water after him.”</p> +<p>“What for? to put out the fire, or to wash him?” +asked a hearer.</p> +<p>“Both,” said Simes, “one to protect the place +and the other to purify him.”</p> +<p>The wise men all laughed, and there was some sense in the laugh +that applauded the oracle.</p> +<p>Tim Tyler and Bob Landers had both been carried to their homes. +Bob escaped serious injury, but it was found that Tim was badly +burned.</p> +<p>“I felt it a good deal at the very first,” he told +Mr. Walton one day, “when, in going after my coat, I happened +to open a door where the fire was, and it darted at me. You see the +pain stopped, but now it has started up.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I understand that while the first contact with the +fire is painful, then what you might call a paralyzing of the +nerves takes place, and feeling is benumbed. When the action of the +fire ceases, and the attempt at healing sets in, the nerves try to +do their duty and the pain starts up once more. I have thought that +the old martyrs who were burned at the stake, while they smarted +terribly at first, had an easier time after that. Bad enough to +step upon the hot round of such a ladder to heaven, but it was +easier climbing after that. You got confused, Tim, didn’t +you, in the mill, when trying to find your way back?”</p> +<p>“O yes; and as I said, I opened a door where the fire +rushed at me. It was so smoky I wonder I ever got out at all. It +seems I had some good friends.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and God was your best friend, and he helped you, and +if you are not a martyr, you can try to bear your pain as patiently +as you can, and some people in bearing pain stand more than the +martyrs even.”</p> +<p>Tim looked up. “Could you—could you—say a +small prayer for me? I don’t want to knuckle under, but grin +and bear it best I can.”</p> +<p>When Mr. Walton came out into the kitchen where Ann was she +said: “I heard Tim ask you to pray. That was a good deal for +him to do. Afore, you did it without the asking, but I was glad to +have him just speak up for himself. O, he has been a +softenin’ since the fire, a comin’ round a good +deal.”</p> +<p>“Where is your brother?”</p> +<p>“Mine? Tim, you mean?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>She only shook her head, and looked sad.</p> +<p>As Mr. Walton was walking home he met Tony, one of his +favorites.</p> +<p>“Well, Tony, how is the club? Have they all got the +shields Miss Barry gave them?”</p> +<p>“I think so, and you were very kind to promise what you +did; but we don’t have any meetings now.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you?”</p> +<p>“No, sir.”</p> +<p>“Won’t you come in and see me?”</p> +<p>Tony followed his friend into the clergyman’s study. Then +Mr. Walton found his mother and brought her into the study.</p> +<p>“This little fellow is one of my Sunday-school boys, and +his name is Tony.”</p> +<p>“Why,” said the old mother, looking into his face, +“I have seen him before.”</p> +<p>And Tony lifted his eyes—large, lustrous, black—to +the old lady’s face rimmed with silver hair, and said, +ingenuously,</p> +<p>“I don’t think you ever did. I have never been +here.”</p> +<p>“But I have seen you, and I want to see you again; and you +will come when you can, won’t you? Where do you +live?”</p> +<p>“At Mr. Badger’s, and I came from New York with a +Mr. Blanco.”</p> +<p>“Where is your father?”</p> +<p>“He is in Italy.”</p> +<p>“And that is over the sea, over the sea!” she +murmured, as she returned to her sitting-room. There she stood +looking at the picture of a ship, and, glancing up at the church +vane, which could be seen from her window, she wondered if the +weather would be easterly and rainy that day.</p> +<p>When they were alone, Tony said to Mr. Walton, “Do you see +Tim Tyler often?”</p> +<p>“Pretty often.”</p> +<p>“And they are real poor?”</p> +<p>“O yes.”</p> +<p>On his way home Tony met Charlie.</p> +<p>“Mr. Walton says they are real poor at Tim Tyler’s, +Charlie. I wish I had some money to give him.”</p> +<p>Charlie thought a minute, and then he spoke up, eagerly, +“I say, Tony, let’s get up a fair for him.”</p> +<p>“That’s the very thing I wanted to ask you about. +Now it’s strange we should both think of it.”</p> +<p>“That’s so.”</p> +<p>“Let’s shake hands on it, Charlie.”</p> +<p>Tony and Charlie, standing on the sidewalk, shook hands +cordially. “What next? The shaking of hands would not bring a +fair.</p> +<p>“Let’s go and see Miss Barry,” suggested +Charlie. This was in accordance with the boys’ custom to +refer all their troubles to this sympathetic teacher.</p> +<p>“We want to get up a fair for Tim Tyler,” said +Charlie, enthusiastically.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes!” cried Tony. Miss Barry looked down into +the boys’ eager faces.</p> +<p>“Tim Tyler, that boy burned at the fire?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Charlie.</p> +<p>“That would be splendid.”</p> +<p>“But—but,” said Tony, “we want you to +help us. Could—could you?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I’ll help.”</p> +<p>The boys were in raptures.</p> +<p>“Have you asked the other boys?” asked the +teacher.</p> +<p>“No,” replied Charlie; “but there go Sid +Waters and Rick Grimes down street now. We might ask +them.”</p> +<p>“You tell them, please, I want to see them.”</p> +<p>When Sid and Rick arrived, their assent, at first, was readily +given to the teacher’s proposition for a fair by the boys in +behalf of Tim Tyler.</p> +<p>“Only,” said Rick, “won’t it go to old +Tim, his uncle, for rum? I don’t believe in that.”</p> +<p>“O, Tim’s mother wouldn’t allow +that.”</p> +<p>“But, you see, Tim had a fuss with Charlie Macomber, and +imposed on him,” exclaimed Sid.</p> +<p>“Charlie is willing, for he has said so,” replied +Miss Barry. “You are not going to hold on to an old grudge. +Your name is ‘Up-the-Ladder Club,’ and not +<em>down</em> the ladder. You go down when you hold on to a grudge, +boys.”</p> +<p>“We won’t go down!” cried Charlie.</p> +<p>“No, no!” said the boys.</p> +<p>The different members of the club signified their willingness. +Will Somers said he would assist.</p> +<p>One other person must be consulted, the older “honorary +member” of the club, Aunt Stanshy. Knowing her very just and +positive opposition to drinking habits, Miss Barry thought she +might refer to old Tim’s, and throw out a sharp opinion that +the uncle ought to help the boy, as he lived in the family of the +boy’s mother. Charlie, too, thought his aunt might object, +but she did not. She only put on that look of sadness Charlie had +noticed when old Tim was in the neighborhood that rainy day, and to +Will’s remark that old Tim ought to do more, she said, with a +sigh,</p> +<p>“I suppose the boy is not responsible for other +people’s failings, and they say his face is very white, and +his hands are real thin, and he behaves better than he did. Yes, +I’ll—help.”</p> +<p>It was easy to decide when to hold this fair, but +“where” was a difficult problem.</p> +<p>“Take the barn chamber,” said Sid.</p> +<p>“It’s too cold,” replied Will, “and this +is to be quite a grand affair.”</p> +<p>It was like Aunt Stanshy to offer her front room and +sitting-room for Tim’s benefit, provided Will could spare his +quarters, and spare he did.</p> +<p>“We will scatter some posters,” said Will. “I +will see that they are printed.”</p> +<p>“We can do it ourselves with pen and ink, and then people +will think more of it, you know. Besides, as we scatter them, we +may have a chance to solicit donations, as they call it,” +said Sid.</p> +<p>“Splendid!” replied Will.</p> +<p>“And we will call on the apothecary,” shouted +Charlie.</p> +<p>“Yes, but if it be candy, I must put an extra string round +the package to make sure that it all gets to the right place and is +not troubled on the way.”</p> +<p>The members of the club who had met to “consult” +were in excellent spirits, especially when Will said, in reply to +the governor’s proposition to ask friends to contribute +refreshments, “I see you know how to do it. Your experience +at your fair fitted you to go right along with this thing in +splendid style.”</p> +<p>Tony thought he could bring some pictures that had been +forwarded from Italy, and Charlie said, “I guess I can get up +a maginary.”</p> +<p>“A maginary?” asked Will.</p> +<p>Charlie only chuckled over his proposition, and made no +explanations.</p> +<p>“I propose,” said Will, “I propose, Mr. +President”—here he bowed to Sid, which caused that +dignitary to stick his thumb into the lowest button hole of his +jacket and swell out with pride—“I propose that we call +our affair a ‘Helping-Hand Sale.’ You know there is a +good deal in a name, and it sets people to thinking, and sets them +to helping, too, and I think Miss Barry will like the +name.”</p> +<p>This was agreeable to the club, whose members now separated to +their homes.</p> +<p>“Aunt Stanshy,” said Charlie, that night, “do +you know where my rabbit is?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know. Now I told you, when Miss Persnips +came down here, that thing in her arms, and she smilin’ and +blinkin’, as if she had an armful of gold, that she was +givin’ you an elephant rather than a rabbit. Nobody knows +where the critter is or what it is up to.”</p> +<p>Charlie found the white pet, and asked Will what he thought the +rabbit looked like.</p> +<p>“Looks more like a rabbit than any thing else, +Charlie.”</p> +<p>“Aunt Stanshy called it an elephant.”</p> +<p>“Well, you might say elephant, the white elephant of +Siam—sort of a distant cousin. Why, what do you ask the +question for?”</p> +<p>Charlie grinned, but made no reply.</p> +<p>Every thing was made ready for the sale. Aunt Stanshy’s +two rooms were the scene of much bustle, and while the boys were at +their tables, Miss Barry in a tastily-draped corner was ready for a +reasonable sum to serve out refreshments to every applicant.</p> +<p>The Helping-Hand Sale had various attractions. Among them was +Charlie’s “maginary.” It was a box covered with +white cloth, a piece of workmanship at which Charlie had been +secretly tinkering for two days. It was labeled “A Distant +Cousin of the White Elephant of Siam. Price to see, three cents, +and don’t tell when you’ve seen it.”</p> +<p>This attracted great attention.</p> +<p>“Miss Persnips,” said Charlie to the shopkeeper, who +came to patronize the sale, “do you want to see my maginary? +Only three cents, and don’t tell.”</p> +<p>“Your menagerie? Yes. What have you got there? Some +dreadful animal! I’m afraid to.”</p> +<p>Charlie lifted the cover of the box, and there, fat and sleepy, +was—Miss Persnips told the rest.</p> +<p>“Did you ever! That darling, sweet pet I gave you. Quite +an idea, really, and here’s another cent.”</p> +<p>The white elephant’s relative was a conspicuous +character—after the lifting of the cover—that +evening.</p> +<p>The next morning Charlie appeared before Will, hanging out a +long, dismal face, and speaking with difficulty.</p> +<p>“She’s gone!”</p> +<p>“Who, Aunt Stanshy?”</p> +<p>“No, Bunny!”</p> +<p>“Your rabbit? How?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know. I left her all right in the maginary, +last night.”</p> +<p>“Let me go out and look round. But where did you put your +box?”</p> +<p>“Well, Aunt Stanshy thought it would do just as well if I +put the box out into the wood-shed—and—”</p> +<p>“Was the door left open?”</p> +<p>“I saw it open this morning.”</p> +<p>“I will look about.”</p> +<p>Will went into the wood-shed, and there before the door he saw +two cats licking their chops, and their guilty eyes seemed to him +to say, “Rabbit stew for breakfast! Keep dark!”</p> +<p>“Charlie,” said Will, entering the house again, +“I think two cats out there took your rabbit, and we will +catch them and box them and exhibit them.”</p> +<p>“As my maginary?”</p> +<p>“Yes, and I’ll tell you how to label +them.”</p> +<p>The cats were caught and boxed, and this was the label their +cage bore on the second and last evening of the “Helping Hand +Sale:” “Destroyers of the Distant Cousin of the White +Elephant of Siam.” This device took, and many pennies were +put by the neighbors into Charlie’s hands. When the boys +summed up the profits of the sale, they had for Tim Tyler’s +benefit the sum of thirty dollars, which Mr. Walton promised should +be judiciously expended.</p> +<p>“It all shows,” remarked Miss Barry to the club, +“what we can do when we work in earnest, and also how much +small sums amount to.”</p> +<p>Simes Badger’s comment on the affair was that Aunt Stanshy +had shown herself a Christian, “knowin’ as I do,” +said Simes, “the story of the Tyler affair way +back.”</p> +<p>Mr. Walton and his old mother had something also to say about +the sale, and it was in connection with one of Tony’s Italian +pictures that Mr. Walton bought.</p> +<p>“A house, mother, in Naples, not far from the water, you +see.”</p> +<p>The old lady was silent awhile. Then she murmured, “I have +seen it, haven’t you, somewhere?”</p> +<p>“Why, yes—no. What is it?”</p> +<p>But the old lady herself was confused about it. She looked at +the fair home by the sea, and then looked again, but she could not +seem to positively identify it.</p> +<p>“And still I have seen it before,” she affirmed.</p> +<p>To identify the spot was like trying to get hold of the exact +form of a ship that partially breaks through the fog and then +recedes, ever coming yet ever vanishing.</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_17" name="Ch_17">Chapter XVII.</a></h3> +<h2>Two Mud-Turtles.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>“There goes a man drunk, Aunt Stanshy.”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy said nothing, but continued to thump away on her +ironing-board.</p> +<p>“He is going down the lane, aunty.”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy heard Charlie, but she said nothing, only ironing +away steadily as ever. Charlie heard her sigh once, or thought he +did.</p> +<p>“Did you speak, aunty?”</p> +<p>“Me, child? Why, no!”</p> +<p>Charlie continued to look out of the window that fronted the +narrow lane. The drunken man was not a very attractive object. Then +it was a dark, lowery, and rainy day in the latter part of +November. The streets were muddy, fences damp and clammy to the +touch. Over the river hung a gray, cheerless fog. To such a day a +staggering drunkard could not be said to contribute a cheering +feature, and it was no wonder that Aunt Stanshy cared little to see +him. Soon after this, Charlie went out into the barn. It had a +deserted look, especially up in the chamber.</p> +<p>“No White Shields here now,” he said, +mournfully.</p> +<p>That fastened window, too, the nail driven securely above the +hook and staple, had a mournful look to Charlie’s soul. He +remembered the story that Simes Badger had told him about this +window and the closed door below.</p> +<p>“I wonder if they will ever be open,” thought +Charlie.</p> +<p>He remembered the river view that was possible from the +“cupelo” above, and he said, “Guess I’ll +climb up and see what the weather is.” Charlie was not a very +experienced weather-observer, but he thought he would like to +obtain a wider outlook than the lane window had afforded him. He +planted an eye between the slats of his watch-tower and then looked +off. The view was neither extensive nor varied, mostly one of +mud-flats. A thick fog had come from the sea and stretched like a +curtain across the mouth of the dock in the rear of Aunt +Stanshy’s premises. The low tide had left in the dock a +stretch of ugly flats, out of which stuck various family relics +like pots and kettles, then pots and kettles again, and finally a +dead cat. Charlie saw several tall chimneys in the neighborhood, +but the buildings they decorated had been covered by the fog, and +the chimneys looked like a vessel’s masts from which the hull +had drifted away, leaving them standing in depths of river-mud. +Toward the sea it was only mist, mist that looked extensive enough +to reach as far as London, whose fog-lovers would have welcomed it. +Did the dock, the tall chimneys, the mist, notice that curious eye +up in the “cupelo” looking through the slats and +watching them?</p> +<p>“Guess I’ll go down,” said their owner.</p> +<p>The mist continued to wrap Seamont all that day and far into the +night.</p> +<p>Will Somers was preparing to leave Dr. Tilton’s store that +evening. He had sent off medicine to quiet the last earache in town +that had been heard from. He had also given powders to make poor +Miss Persnips sleep quietly. She was sick with a nervous fever. +Will now closed the store, turned the key in the lock, and went up +the street, whistling “The Star-Spangled Banner.” It +was half after ten. One by one the house-lamps had been +extinguished, and it was “dark as a pocket” in the +lane. Still whistling, Will neared Aunt Stanshy’s. He ceased +his tune suddenly for he caught an outcry.</p> +<p>“Where does that come from!” asked Will. “Back +of the barn, I guess. There it is again! It is from the dock, I +know, sure as I’m born.”</p> +<p>He sprang across Aunt Stanshy’s garden and then leaped a +fence which separated her estate from an open piece of ground +bordering the dock and used for various purposes. Fishermen dried +their fish here on long flakes. Around three sides of the dock went +a stone wall, against which the tide washed and rippled, mildly +grumbling because the wall was stubborn and would not budge an +inch. On the stone wall bordering the upper end of the dock rested +that side of Aunt Stanshy’s barn in which were the fastened +door below and the fastened window above.</p> +<p>Will, having leaped the fence, ran past the fish-flakes to the +edge of the stone dock-wall. It was so dark that his running was +neither rapid nor straight.</p> +<p>“Somebody is down in the dock,” thought Will. +“Don’t worry!” he shouted, “I am +here.”</p> +<p>He now heard a series of noises, some of them distinct and quite +human. Others were confused outcries.</p> +<p>“It’s time for low tide,” thought Will, and, +without further reflection, down he dropped into the dark, dismal +dock, landing in a bed of mud soft as ever a flounder slept on. He +was conscious at once that this bed was a very yielding one, but he +could not stop to calculate how far down he might sink, shouting at +once, “Where are you? Sing out there!”</p> +<p>“M—m—moo—moo,” replied the person, +as if a cow in distress. “I’m +hic—here—hic!”</p> +<p>“Drank as a fool,” thought Will. +“Where?”</p> +<p>“Hic—here—hic!”</p> +<p>“Hie—haec—hoc, more likely,” said Will, +recalling his Latin. “Stay right where you are.”</p> +<p>“I’ll stay—hic.”</p> +<p>“Let me feel for you. O, here you are.”</p> +<p>Will now felt of some one crouching against the stone-wall of +the dock, “How did you come here?”</p> +<p>“Dunno—hic—but I spect I did.”</p> +<p>“You must have walked off the wall, and the great question +now is how to get back again.”</p> +<p>“Yes—hic—that—is the +question—hic—afore the house.”</p> +<p>“Afore the dock, I should say. Whew, I believe I’m +up to my thighs in mud, and if that isn’t water I’m +splashing in! The tide is coming in, certain. Come, friend, we must +get out of this!”</p> +<p>“Yes, we must all—hic.”</p> +<p>“Must all hic? We must all get out, you mean.”</p> +<p>“Yes, all get-hic.”</p> +<p>“Let me think. There are stairs out of this old bog +somewhere, and where are they? I declare! down at the other end, +and the water is three or four feet deep there when it is dry up +here. Then put on top of it or under it two or three feet of mud +and you have five to six feet in all, and that is an interesting +state of things to wade through. We must stay at this end of the +dock; and back of Aunt Stanshy’s barn, I believe, are steps. +I must work him up there, and do it myself somehow, for my shouting +don’t bring any one.”</p> +<p>Will had called several times for help, but there was no +response. He now addressed his boozy companion:</p> +<p>“I must get you up out of this somehow, and work you along +where the steps are. The wall is too high to boost you up here. If +this isn’t interesting, nigh eleven o’clock, pitch +dark, down in this old dock blundering with you, drank as a fool! I +feel like laughing.”</p> +<p>“Yes—hic—you’re drunk—as +a—fool—and I +want—to—hic—laugh—he—he—he!”</p> +<p>Will did really laugh now. It seemed so funny there at that hour +in that place.</p> +<p>“But it’s no laughing matter, friend, I’ll +tell you. O whew! Here’s the water half a foot deep all +around us! Come now, lift up your feet and come with me. Make an +effort now.”</p> +<p>The man rallied his strength so effectively to make this effort +that he lost his balance, and stumbling against Will, pitched him +over.</p> +<p>“Look—look out—friend!” roared Will, as +he floundered in mud and water. “Can’t you do better +than that?”</p> +<p>“Besht—hic—I can do for you. Might try it +again—hic.”</p> +<p>“O, thanks—thanks. Be contented with that trial. +There is my boot, stuck fast in the mud, and let her go. Come, +friend, make an effort to get along. Stick close to the wall and +work your way on, and lean on me. There, you did splendidly then. +Try again! There, there! Easy now. O scissors, there goes my other +boot! The next thing will be that I shall get my legs in for good, +and by to-morrow morning early the water will be over us all. Come, +friend, you don’t want to get drowned. Pull away! Steady +there! Move on! We are making progress, you see. Again, there! On +she goes! Hem—now, once more! All together! There we +are!”</p> +<p>There came a series of such trials, and finally Will shouted, +“Must be almost there—and—” bump they went +against the stone wall at the upper end of the dock.</p> +<p>“Three cheers, friend!”</p> +<p>“Hip—hip—hip—”</p> +<p>“No matter about giving them. Now we will work along to +some steps back of a barn. Careful!”</p> +<p>When the steps had been reached Will exclaimed, “So far, +so good, friend.”</p> +<p>“Yes—hic—I’m +glad—I’ve—hic—got you—hic—so +far safe—hic.”</p> +<p>“Got me? You have my thanks. Well, now, you stay here by +these steps until I come for you. I will fetch a light. Stay here, +now.”</p> +<p>“I will—hic.”</p> +<p>Will felt his way along the base of the wall until he came to +the lane. The stones in the wall were smooth with the slime +accumulating there for years, and it was hard work to get his feet +out of the mud, and very hard then to get them up and over the +wall. He succeeded though, and grasping a rail-fence and mounting +it, dropped down into the lane.</p> +<p>“Glad to touch solid ground,” thought Will, +“though I be in my stocking-feet.”</p> +<p>He hurried to Aunt Stanshy’s door, which had been left +unlocked for his admittance, and opening it, stepped upon the entry +oil-cloth.</p> +<p>“Tick—tick! Who comes here?” the old clock now +seemed to say, loudly, solemnly ticking.</p> +<p>“How I shall muddy this sacred floor! Can’t help it, +though! Aunt Stanshy,” he now began to call; at the same time +he rapped on the baluster. “Aunt Stanshy!”</p> +<p>He looked up and saw the light from the lamp that she kept +burning at night. Soon there was the sound of a stirring, and a +tall figure in white bent over the railing. A second and smaller +statue of snow was there in a moment, leaning over the railing by +the side of Aunt Stanshy.</p> +<p>“What is it?” she asked.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry to trouble you, but I’ve just come +from the dock, and—”</p> +<p>“Why, you look like a mud-turtle,” said Aunt +Stanshy, bending over still farther and holding out the lamp, whose +light fell on Will.</p> +<p>“Mud-turtle? I don’t wonder you say so, and +there’s another and worse-looking one out in the +dock.”</p> +<p>“Two mud-turtles? What do you mean? Where <em>have</em> +you been?”</p> +<p>“I mean this; I was coming home and heard some one calling +for help, and ran to the dock and saw—no, I couldn’t +<em>see</em> a barley-corn before my nose—but I knew somebody +was down there, and without thinking—”</p> +<p>“Just like you!” said Aunt Stanshy to herself.</p> +<p>“And in I went, and I succeeded in getting my man, who is +drunk, round to the upper aide of the dock.”</p> +<p>“You did splendidly,” said Aunt Stanshy, aloud.</p> +<p>“But I had to work for it! And now I want a light, which +you may wonder I didn’t get before; but I was so anxious to +help that fellow, I put and run as soon as I heard him cry, and +when I was in the dock I thought I might as well stick to him and +work him into a safe place. But haven’t you a door in the +dock-side of your barn?”</p> +<p>“Y—e—s,” said Aunt Stanshy, reluctantly, +remembering an old decision about the door. “I will be out, +and you take the lantern that you will see in the back entry. +Don’t mind my floor. I will be out in two minutes.”</p> +<p>“Let me go down and show Will about the lantern,” +said Charlie.</p> +<p>“Are you dressed?”</p> +<p>“O yes. I thought I might help, you know,” was the +complacent remark of Charlie, who had improved his time, and, while +keeping his “ears out,” had been putting his legs into +his pants as rapidly as possible.</p> +<p>“You have been smarter than your aunt, but she will be +there soon.”</p> +<p>Charlie showed Will where the lantern hung in the back entry, +and together they went into the barn.</p> +<p>“Here is the door,” said Charlie, “that lets +folks into the dock.”</p> +<p>“But how do you get the thing open?” asked Will, +flashing the light of his lantern upon the door.</p> +<p>“I will open it,” said Aunt Stanshy, who now +appeared, and already decided that the door might be consistently +opened for a good deed’s sake. She carried a hammer in her +hand, which she energetically swung about the driven nails, soon +removing them. Then she threw back the door, and out into the black +night peered anxiously. How long it had been since the last time +that she had looked out from that door! She could see nothing at +first, but in a moment made out a man’s form below. As the +rays of Aunt Stanshy’s lamp shone out, they made a bridge of +light that stretched off into the mist, as if anxious to reach the +river and bridge it for some poor, helpless soul in the water.</p> +<p>“Say, friend, you down there?” called out Will.</p> +<p>A voice below answered, “Yesh—hic—I’ll +help you—up—”</p> +<p>“You will? Better let me help you first.”</p> +<p>“Shuit yourself—hic.”</p> +<p>Will descended the steps, and found the man leaning against the +dock-wall.</p> +<p>“Now, friend, we’ll climb these stairs.”</p> +<p>“I will—help +you—hic—yes—up.”</p> +<p>“You are very kind, but let me help you first. Now go it! +Tough! You don’t gain a peg.”</p> +<p>“You’ll have +me—hic—over—friend.”</p> +<p>“Have <em>you</em> over! It’s the other way, +man.”</p> +<p>“Well—shay! It’s all right, aint +it?—hic.”</p> +<p>“O yes! We wont quarrel about it. Look here, folks! +haven’t you got any thing up there we could steer him +by—a rope, perhaps, to which he could cling? The water has +risen and come up here, and it’s not comfortable in +one’s stocking-feet. Wish my fire company was here! We would +make short work of it.”</p> +<p>“Shall I ring the church bell?” asked Charlie, +excitedly.</p> +<p>“O don’t, don’t!”</p> +<p>“Here’s a rope,” said Aunt Stanshy.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes!” exclaimed Charlie, “and we will +pull him in.”</p> +<p>“We might do that, or at least help,” said Aunt +Stanshy, laughing.</p> +<p>“Yesh—hic—pull him in,” said the man in +the dock.</p> +<p>“We will fasten the rope about you, friend, and +they’ll draw on it, and perhaps you could hold on to it and +draw yourself up, and I will shove you behind. Now, all, a good +try!”</p> +<p>Will was now shoving, Aunt Stanshy and Charlie hauling, while +the man tried to grasp the sides of the steps; and so, out of the +slime and the mist and the night, up into the light, and then into +Aunt Stanshy’s barn, came the face of—old Tim +Tyler!</p> +<p>“Horrors!” said Aunt Stanshy, startled by this +unexpected sight of the second mud-turtle. Her face wore, indeed, a +look of horror at first, and then the expression changed to one of +pity.</p> +<p>Over the door-sill he crawled, and then looking up, he said, in +a drunken, but abashed, humiliated way, “Stanshy, is it you? +Real—hic—sorry to +trouble—hic—you.”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy made no audible reply, but stood looking away as if +into distant years. She was recalling the words uttered by Tim long +ago, when he vowed that he would see himself +“a-drownin’ in that dock first afore he’d ask a +favor of her.” “He has come up to his word,” she +said to herself, and then she bowed her troubled face.</p> +<p>“Well, now,” said Will, looking round with a worried +face, “what next?”</p> +<p>“Guesh I’ll—hic—go home now. Thank you, +sir,” he said, bowing to Will. “Thank you, +Stanshy,” and he bowed still lower.</p> +<p>“Timothy,” said Aunt Stanshy, calling him by the old +name, “I wouldn’t turn a dog into the street a night +like this, and you had better stay here. I will get you some +clothes, and, Will, perhaps you will see that he gets off +these.”</p> +<p>“And bring me one of my suits, too, please. And if Charlie +will bring me a basin and some water, we will wash here. I will +look after my man here. Bring my slippers, please.”</p> +<p>“Where’s—hic—your boots?”</p> +<p>“O, they concluded to stay in the dock.”</p> +<p>“I’ll—get—you another +pair—hic.”</p> +<p>“I may find them at low-water and by daylight.”</p> +<p>Tim Tyler stayed at Aunt Stanshy’s that night The next +morning he was in his right mind, and, thanking Aunt Stanshy, said +he must go. Then he lingered, twirling in his hands the old felt +hat that was his daily companion, though a much abused one.</p> +<p>“He wants to say something,” thought Charlie.</p> +<p>“Constantia, years ago you and I had a falling out. I +think I was to blame in tempting that boy’s father, and I +have often thought so, but have been too proud to say it all these +years. I did not like what you said; but no matter, I was to blame +for what I did, and I did not answer you back in gentleman-fashion. +I want to say I am sorry, and ask you to overlook it and shake +hands.”</p> +<p>He held out his hand to Aunt Stanshy.</p> +<p>“He has spoken like a man and what will she do?” +thought Will.</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy was ready to show that she was a woman. She held +out her hand, also, and said, “I said more than I needed to, +and I am sorry for that. Let it go, please.”</p> +<p>“Well,” he exclaimed, “it was mean in me to +tempt a man, though I did not see then, as I do now, how low drink +may bring a man. God knows I am low enough.”</p> +<p>The tears were now making their way down old Tim Tyler’s +face. Charlie saw that Aunt Stanshy turned away from those present +and looked in another direction, but the quick-eyed boy thought he +noticed a redness to Aunt Stanshy’s eyes when she faced the +company again.</p> +<p>Will Somers had come from the store in season to hear +Tim’s words. A fisherman soon called who had hurt his hand +with a fish-hook and wished to have a poultice applied by the +“young doctor,” as people sometimes called Will. This +second party had closely followed Will and had heard what was last +said. It was an interesting scene. There was the drunkard, +confessing how low he had fallen, and there was the woman who once +had loved and respected him. There was Charlie, the son of the man +whom the drunkard tried to lead astray. There was Will, and the +fisherman made an additional spectator.</p> +<p>Will stepped up to Tim.</p> +<p>“Mr. Tyler, excuse, me, but why do you stay so low? Why +not come up again?”</p> +<p>“Will’s tone was full of sympathy.</p> +<p>“God knows I would like to come up again.”</p> +<p>“You can, and be back in your old place, owning your own +boat, too.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Aunt Stanshy, eagerly, “and +fishing from the barn, just the same as before.”</p> +<p>“You are all kind, very kind. It does me good,” and +poor Tim actually smiled at the prospect. “What would my +sister, who has clung to me, say? Wouldn’t she be taken +aback?”</p> +<p>The tears were again in the drunkard’s eyes.</p> +<p>“Good deal of the man there yet,” thought Will. +“Your sister might be taken aback, but in that kind of way +that would help you forward. Come,” he said, aloud, “I +will go into my room and write a pledge for you, and be back in a +moment.”</p> +<p>Tim looked intently at the pledge of total abstinence that Will +brought.</p> +<p>“If—if—I had some one to sign with me, some +one to stand with me,” he murmured.</p> +<p>“I will,” said the fisherman, stepping forward, and +now recognized as a previous acquaintance.</p> +<p>“You, John Fisher, will you?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I have taken a drop now and then, but I’ll +sign and stand with you. I don’t want to get into +the—”</p> +<p>“Dock, where I was?” asked Tim.</p> +<p>“No, I am sure I don’t.”</p> +<p>“And that’s the very place where drop-people may +fetch up. I was a drop-taker once. I will sign, and God help +me!”</p> +<p>“O he will,” said Aunt Stanshy, encouragingly. +Charlie now saw that her eyes were redder than ever.</p> +<p>After the name of Timothy Tyler came the name of John +Fisher.</p> +<p>“Now you will make those at home happy,” said +Will.</p> +<p>But only those with whom Tim made his home really knew how happy +it made them. How great was the change there! Young Tim speedily +began to rally, sitting up that very day, while Ann went round the +house singing.</p> +<p>Charlie came up the next day with a delicacy from Aunt Stanshy +for the patient.</p> +<p>“Tell Aunt Stanshy to wipe out every thing, and we will +start once more,” was the message that Ann sent off by +Charlie.</p> +<p>“It is all wiped out,” was Aunt Stanshy’s +answer, and the two soon came together and joined hands.</p> +<p>The barn-door toward the dock was now open, and, in a humble +way, the firm of “Tyler & Fisher” began business, +drying their fish on the flakes adjoining Aunt Stanshy’s +barn, while in the barn itself they stored their possessions, as +might be necessary.</p> +<p>A note from Mr. Walton arrived about that time. It was written +in his frank, simple, hearty way, congratulating both the men on +the stand they had taken. Referring to Tim’s desire for +fellowship in his new effort, of which Mr. Walton had heard, he +added, “There is another who will stand by you, the Great +Brother who came as a babe at Bethlehem, and Christmas will soon +remind us of it. Feeling for us and loving us, he at last died for +us. Ask him to stand with you. He came to help just such poor weak +fellows as we all are.”</p> +<p>That touched the “firm,” and the next Sunday they +both sat in a back seat near the stove by the church-door. As Tim +Tyler sat there in old St. John’s and heard the dreary wind +roaring without, he thought of the fishing-boats that scud before +such winds anxious to make port and reach home.</p> +<p>“That’s me, I hope, trying to get home,” he +thought, “and find harbor in God’s Church, will hold us +all.”</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_18" name="Ch_18">Chapter XVIII.</a></h3> +<h2>A New Departure.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Again the club was only a memory. It was like a walking-stick +that, when the mountain-tramp is over, the vacationist puts on the +wall as a memento.</p> +<p>“How is your club getting along, Charlie?” asked +Miss Bertha Barry, one day, when she was calling at Aunt +Stanshy’s.</p> +<p>“We—we—don’t meet,” said Charlie, +mournfully. Juggie was there, also, calling on a once brother +knight, and he, too, looked sad.</p> +<p>“Now I have an idea,” said the teacher. “You +know I like a good time as well as any body, but I think if we have +clubs, it is a good idea to make them as useful as possible. If you +meet again, remember, your name is ‘Up-the-Ladder +Club,’ always to be climbing up, always to be advancing. Now +you can advance in this way; you can combine the literary +element.”</p> +<p>“Come-and-bine what?” asked Juggie.</p> +<p>“The literary element.”</p> +<p>“De literal element?”</p> +<p>“Recitations and so on, I mean.”</p> +<p>“We did have an entertainment,” said Charlie, who +was not disposed to forget or disparage the glory of +“departed days.”</p> +<p>“But this is something different, and let me explain. Let +us suppose that we take the subject, ‘Days of our +Forefathers,’ the times before or at the Revolutionary War. +One of you could be dressed as a farmer in those days, and tell +what farmers did; another as printer could tell what printers did, +and so on. That would give you an idea of those days, and make +something useful of your club.”</p> +<p>The plan was popular with the boys of the club. When the subject +was proposed to Aunt Stanshy, she made the comment:</p> +<p>“Some sense in the idea. The boys will learn +something.”</p> +<p>“And then,” said Miss Barry, “when Christmas +comes, you can give a Christmas entertainment, and ask an admission +fee, and, won’t you give the money to the missions of our +Church? That will be putting another round in the ladder, and the +‘Up-the-Ladder Club’ will go higher still. I want you +to help other people all you can. I’ll tell you what to do, +and be with you.”</p> +<p>The boys agreed to their teacher’s plan. Sid was specially +enthusiastic. Will Somers said he would help. Aunt Stanshy had +promised to open the rooms of her house, and one December night, +when the sky was like the dark face of an Oriental beauty, hung all +over with golden jewelry, the White Shields and their friends met +at Aunt Stanshy’s. How happy were the club boys to find there +a banner sent by Mr. Walton. He wrote that Tim Tyler was coming to +Sunday-school, and that they had previously secured four scholars, +and Tim should be counted the fifth. Happy knights to earn that +banner!</p> +<p>About eight Sid came into the front room dressed in a brown, +broad-skirted coat, also wearing small clothes, silver +knee-buckles, and buckled shoes. He took off his cocked hat, made a +low bow, and holding out a diminutive newspaper, yellow with age, +began:</p> +<p>“I am a printer. I had the honor of printing the +‘New Hampshire Gazette,’ which was started in +Portsmouth in 1756, and is still published in that good old city. +In those days newspapers were not so numerous as now. When the +Revolutionary War closed there were forty-three papers in the +country. We did not give such crowded or so large sheets as are now +published. My paper, though, was so popular all the spare copies +were taken, and I have none by me this moment; but here is a copy +of the ‘New England Chronicle,’ that came out in Boston +on the 4th of July, 1776. It has four pages, you will see, measures +ten inches by fifteen, say, and each page has three columns. It was +not easy work then to publish a paper. We had no steam-presses, but +hand-power had to do the work, and my arms ache to this day. It was +hard, too, at the time of the Revolutionary War, to get paper, and +before the war, too. In 1769 there was only one paper-mill in New +England, and that was at Milton, Mass. They had to advertise for +rags, and what they called the bell-cart went through Boston +picking them up. Then in towns like Salem, Charlestown, Portsmouth, +they scraped all they could. Ten years after, my brother-publisher, +of the ‘Massachusetts Spy,’ appealed to the ‘fair +Daughters of Liberty in this extensive country’ to save their +rags, and so ‘serve their country,’ advising them to +hang up a bag in one corner of a room that the odds and ends might +be saved. For a pound of ‘clean white rags’ the ladies +could get ten shillings! If you had lived then, and had your +mother’s rags to-day, what heaps of money you could have +made! It was hard, too, for us newspaper men to get news. I was +looking yesterday at a copy of the ‘Portsmouth Oracle,’ +published in 1805. That was in this wonderful century. What did it +say on the 26th of January? ‘News by telegraph?’ and +did it tell us what the Hottentots were doing yesterday? No; it +said, ‘By the mails,’ and had one item from Boston two +days old, two from New York nine days old, and one from +Fredericksburg about a trouble with the colored people, and that +news was twenty-three days old! Rags and news, those two things, +how hard they were to get! And then, ladies and gentlemen, how hard +it was to get our pay! A brother editor in New York, in 1777, told +his customers he must charge them, for ‘a quarter of +news,’ twelve pounds of beef, seven pounds of cheese, and so +on, or he must have their worth in money, and he tells them to +bring in the produce, or he will have to ‘shut up +shop.’ I will now shut, also.”</p> +<p>Making a low bow again, the wearer of small clothes retired. +When Juggie’s turn arrived, he appeared, whip in hand.</p> +<p>“I’m de stage-driber. In de days ob our ancestors +dar were no railroads, but jest common roads. De fust canal was +built in 1777. Dar was a big road dat went from Bosson to mouf of +Kennebec, one up into New Hampshire, and den ta Canada, one to +Providence, and one to New York, while New York had two roads, norf +and one souf. I was a stage-driber.” (Here Juggie cracked his +whip and shouted, “Get up, Cæsar!”) “I ran +de ‘Flyin’ Machine’ dat went from New York to +Philadelfy, and took only two days; and one spell I took a stage +from New York to Bosson in six days. What do you say to dat? +Don’t it make yer eyes open? Who carried de mail, do you say? +And haben’t you eber heard? De stage. In 1775 de mail went +from Philadelfy to New England ebery fortnight in winter, but dey +improbed and went once a week, and letter-writers could get an +answer in free weeks, when before it took six weeks. What progress! +De worl’ goes on, and—so do I.”</p> +<p>Juggie left, and Governor Grimes appeared in the dress of a +farmer, carrying a shovel in one hand and a hoe in the other.</p> +<p>“I am a farmer, and was one in the old days. It is true I +did not have so many neighbors as people nowadays, and I went +without things that farmers now have. I didn’t have +newfangled cultivators, reapers, or such things. But then what a +stout house I lived in, a big, square house, and its frame +wasn’t made of pipe-stem sticks! They were big, solid sticks +of oak that I had, and you could see them sticking out of the +corners and down from the ceiling. What chimneys I had, and the +bricks came all the way from England! I had none of your box +stoves, but a big fire in the chimney which you could see. My wife, +Polly, had no carpets on the floor, but she had rugs she made of +rags. And my darter, Jerusha, what a cook she was! She made +pies—cooked ’em, I mean—in a brick oven, and she +stewed her chickens in pots hung on hooks from a swinging crane in +the chimney. And then I gave Jerusha a turn-spit, too, which she +put before the fire, and I gave her a tin kitchen. Polly had a +spinning-wheel and Jerusha a hand-loom, and that is where our cloth +came from. I raised corn and grass and potatoes, and we had plenty +of apples, and what fun we had at huskin’ parties and apple +parings! I took care of my horses, oxen, cows, and sheep, pigs, +too, and had to kill my own critters and cure the hams we used. In +those days we had to do many things ourselves, such as dip our +candles, and I made my eyes weak mending Jedidiah’s shoes in +the evening, a candle near me, and the tall old family clock +ticking in the corner.”</p> +<p>Miss Barry was charming in her antique dress, as every White +Shield thought. It came down from her great-great-grandmother, +Sally Tilton, who was a famous belle in her day. The dress was +hooped and ruffled, “trailed,” also, in the old style. +Miss Barry’s hair was powdered, and she wore white satin +shoes. She represented the “Daughters of Liberty,” and +told about Emily Geiger, the South Carolina young lady who +undertook to carry a written message from General Greene to General +Sumter, and when the British took her, she ate up her letter! The +enemy released her, not finding her message. She went on and she +did her errand, though, giving the message from memory, as General +Greene, fearful of a capture, had told her the contents of the +letter. Then Miss Barry told about some girls in New York who gave +a coat of molasses and flag-down to a young man disrespectful to +Congress. She gave an account of the young ladies in Virginia, +Massachusetts, and elsewhere.</p> +<p>Will Somers appeared in the dress of a revolutionary soldier, +carrying on his shoulder a musket that was a fire-lock, and slung +at his side was a powder-horn, while in his tinder-box were flint +and steel. How many battles this old Continental had been in, what +victories he had won, and what hardships he had endured! He was not +slow to tell of them all.</p> +<p>The entertainment was voted a great success.</p> +<p>“There, Charles Pitt,” declared Aunt Stanshy the +next morning at the breakfast-table, “I like that style of a +club ever so much. It tells you something.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Charlie, “I know a lot more than I +did.”</p> +<p>“I want you to have a good time in your club, but when it +is all play and nothing else, it aint just the thing.”</p> +<p>“Yes, aunty,” said the now matured and venerable +Charlie. “And we’re going to have something +else.”</p> +<p>“What is it?”</p> +<p>He only winked and looked wise as an owl at midnight.</p> +<p>December was now hurrying away. The winter weeks followed one +another rapidly, and at last Charlie heard Mr. Walton say in church +something about a Christmas festival.</p> +<p>“Christmas is coming!” was Charlie’s silent +response.</p> +<p>What a Christmas it was! Two nights previous to it the club had +an entertainment in behalf of missions, as Miss Barry had +suggested. Dressed as that benevolent individual, Santa Claus, +different members of the club stepped forward and gave an account +of Christmas in Germany, Christmas in Russia, Christmas in Italy, +and Christmas in Australia. The boys were curious to see how much +money they had made.</p> +<p>“Twenty dollars!” declared Sid, who counted the +funds.</p> +<p>“There,” said Miss Barry, “the Up-the-Ladder +Club will put rounds under the feet of boys in heathen lands, and +help them climb up into the light of a Saviour’s +presence.”</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_19" name="Ch_19">Chapter XIX.</a></h3> +<h2>The Wreck.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Snow still kept away, but winter winds had come, and they swept +over the bare ground, cutting like knives. About the first of the +year the weather softened. The old gray heads, whose possessors +occupied that village-throne of wisdom, the jackknife-carved bench +by Silas Trefethen’s stove, prophesied “a spell of +weather.”</p> +<p>“Storm brewin’! I feel it in my bones,” +declared Simes Badger, squinting at the vane on Aunt +Stanshy’s barn and then at the gray, scowling clouds above. +The wind was from the “nor’-east.” It had a damp, +chilly touch, so that the people shrank from it, and were glad to +get near their cozy fires. All day threatening clouds rolled in +from the sea, as if the storm had planted batteries there and the +smoke from the cannonade was thickening. At night Charlie, passing +a window in his chamber, heard the rain drumming on the panes. He +had gone to his warm nest and been there only two minutes, when he +said to himself, as he gaped, “If it would only rain so hard +that I wouldn’t have to go to school to-mor—” +Here the angel of sleep came along, and, putting his hand on the +eyes of a tired boy, closed them and drowned in sweet oblivion all +his school anxieties. It rained through the night. It rained all +the next day. The tide, too, was unusually high. It rolled over the +wharves, swept up the shipyards, and even ventured into the yard +back of Silas Trefethen’s store, floating away a hencoop with +its squawking tenants.</p> +<p>“It beats all!” said Simes Badger. “The oldest +person round here never saw such a tide.”</p> +<p>The Up-the-Ladder Club did the tide the honor of making it a +call in a body, and from the rear of Silas Trefethen’s store +watched the swollen current beyond the yard.</p> +<p>“Let’s go down to the beach and see the waves +to-morrow. It’s Saturday, you know, and the waves pile up +tremendous in a storm. Who’s for it!” inquired Sid +Waters. There was not a White Shield present who was unwilling to +go. Some of them, however, went sooner than they expected.</p> +<p>Toward the morning of the next day, Will Somers was aroused by +the ringing of a bell. He opened his ears, opened his eyes, and +then he sprang out of bed.</p> +<p>“Fire!” he said. “Fire!”</p> +<p>He rushed to a window, threw it up, and put his head out into +the black storm, through which echoed the notes of the bell of old +St. John’s. They made such an impression it seemed as if they +must be living things out in the darkness walking. So strange, so +unreal was this, it was a relief to hear the approaching footsteps +of somebody who was actually “flesh and blood.”</p> +<p>“Where’s the fire?” asked Will.</p> +<p>“Fire!” said the man, walking leisurely along. +“I should think any booby might know this is not the night +for a fire, when things are so wet; but it is the night for a +wreck, and the feller pullin’ that bell tells me there is one +off Gull’s P’int.”</p> +<p>“Is it? I am going, then, and I should think any one but a +booby would be going in that direction,” retorted Will, +noticing that the man was not moving toward the quarter where the +wreck was. The stranger muttered something about knowing his own +business best, while Will pulled in his head and slammed down the +window.</p> +<p>“Charlie!” he said, stepping into the boy’s +little chamber after lighting a lamp.</p> +<p>“What is it?” asked Charlie, winking his eyes at the +blinding glare of the light.</p> +<p>“Do you want to go with me?”</p> +<p>“Go where?”</p> +<p>“To see a wreck.”</p> +<p>“O yes! Just wait a minute and let me ask Aunt +Stanshy.”</p> +<p>He groped his way to his aunt’s bedroom.</p> +<p>“Aunt Stanshy, may I go with Will?”</p> +<p>In his eagerness he forgot to mention the object of this +midnight expedition. Aunt Stanshy was not thoroughly awake, for the +angel of sleep visiting Charlie had touched her eyes also. If +awake, she might not have granted the request. The idea went +confusedly through her brain that Charlie wanted to sleep with +Will.</p> +<p>“Y-e-s,” she murmured, drowsily, and then the angel +of sleep had her fully again under his control. Charlie stole down +into Will’s room, his clothes on his arm.</p> +<p>“Now, dress quick as you can. Have you an +overcoat?”</p> +<p>“Yes, but it is up in Aunt Stanshy’s +closet.”</p> +<p>“We don’t want to disturb her again. Here, you put +on the cape of my cloak and fold it about you.”</p> +<p>Charlie was proud to be thus enveloped. Will then completed his +dressing, and looked like a Cape Codder just arrived from a +fishing-smack. He took his young companion by the hand and off they +started.</p> +<p>“Who’s that?” asked Will, as they turned from +Water Street into Beach Street.</p> +<p>“That boy in the door where there’s a light? Why, +that is Tony! He’s up. Tony, that you?” sang out +Charlie.</p> +<p>“Yes! You going down to the beach?” said Tony, +standing in the lighted door-way of a low-roofed house.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“I heard the bell and got up, and one of the neighbors +came and told us it was a wreck, and Mr. Grimes said I might go if +I could go with somebody.”</p> +<p>“Come along,” said Will. “Tell him I will take +care of you.”</p> +<p>Tony went eagerly back. He prepared for the trip, and then came +out to join Will and Charlie.</p> +<p>“Now, boys, take hold of my hand and let’s +put,” said Will.</p> +<p>They accordingly “put.”</p> +<p>“Isn’t this good fun, Tony.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Charlie, splendid.”</p> +<p>It was such good fun that Charlie thought he was willing to be a +sailor on board that wreck even. He changed his mind, however, in a +short time. Beach Street led down to a road that was called +“Back Road.” This took as many turns as it pleased, and +after a quarter of a mile struck the low, level marshes. Traversing +the marshes, the road led Will and his companions up to the yellow +hammocks, at whose base the breakers were discharging their fury in +a terrible bombardment of the land. The road wound through the +hummocks, and then the party stood upon the beach. It was a cold, +ugly atmosphere, pierced by the missiles of the storm, while the +surf crashed on the sand in one long, fierce, unearthly roar. +People from the town were now gathering on the beach, some of them +carrying lanterns that twinkled like stars knocked out of their +places by the storm, fallen now to the level of the beach.</p> +<p>But where was the wreck? No sign of it anywhere; only rain, +surf, storm, blackness—a wild medley.</p> +<p>“This is a sell!” said a man.</p> +<p>“Wish I was in bed agin,” exclaimed another.</p> +<p>“Let’s catch the feller that rang that church +bell,” exclaimed a third, “and duck him in the +surf.”</p> +<p>A fourth made a sensible suggestion: “Let’s go down +to the life-saving station, and they can probably tell us +there.”</p> +<p>A quarter of a mile up the beach was a life-saving station, and +a light could be seen winking from one of its windows. Several, +including Will and the boys, walked up the beach, past the crashing +waves, and reaching the station, pushed open its door on the +land-side of the building, and entered. Charlie looked about him +with eager curiosity, for it was the first time he had ever been in +such a place. The building was of two stories. The larger part of +the lower story was taken up by a “boat-room” for +various kinds of apparatus for reaching wrecks. Charlie also saw +the inside of a kitchen, and Will told him there was a room up +stairs for the beds of the men at the station. Charlie and Tony +warmed themselves at the brisk fire in the store. The man on duty +there did not seem to know any thing about the disaster reported in +town, but he talked with Will and Charlie about shipwrecks and +storms and efforts at rescuing the wrecked. After a while, Charlie +said to Will, “Let’s go out and take a run along the +beach, and see what’s going on.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” added Tony, “let’s do +it.”</p> +<p>“A run up and down the beach to see what is going on, this +stormy night? You are enterprising boys. Well, we will go. Button +up your coats snug, though. Fold my cape about you, Charlie. There, +you look like a small monk off on a tare. You fixed, Tony? Come, +boys,” said Will.</p> +<p>Bang! How the wind slammed the door after them! And how the sea +thundered and roared; then roared and thundered again! It seemed as +if every throw of surf was heavier than that before, and yet none +of this violence and wrath could be seen unless some one chanced to +pass carrying a lantern. Then this thing that raged along the +sands, this creature, this dragon from the deep, would show an +angry whiteness, as if it were the opening of his jaws.</p> +<p>Will and the boys may have tramped a quarter of a mile along the +beach, when Will exclaimed, “Hullo, there’s a +light!”</p> +<p>It was a lively twinkle upon the sands that came nearer and +nearer, and then stopped before the party.</p> +<p>“Who’s this?” asked a voice, pleasantly.</p> +<p>Charlie lifted up his face toward the shining of this friendly +light.</p> +<p>“Bub, is this you down here at this time of night? +Don’t you know the man who goes fishin’ from your Aunt +Stanshy’s barn?”</p> +<p>“O yes, I know you.”</p> +<p>It was the junior member of the new firm, “Tyler & +Fisher.”</p> +<p>“Are you a patrolman, Mr. Fisher?” asked Will.</p> +<p>“I am at spells, when a man at the station may be sick. +You see I can’t go fishin’ in this storm, and it comes +handy to be employed as a substitute at the station. But what are +you here for?”</p> +<p>“We came down to find a wreck. Up in town St. John’s +bell was rung and we were told there was a wreck at Gull Point. At +the station, though, where we have been, a man said that he did not +know of any.”</p> +<p>“I guess I know how that story got up to town. A little +fool was down here with a squeaky voice and sharp little eyes, and +he wanted to know if there were any wrecks. The fact is we had been +looking for sich all day and through the evening and night. There +were one or two vessels off the mouth of the harbor as night came +on, trying to get in, and, pizen! they could no more get in than my +old tarpaulin, and they wouldn’t stand a hundredth part of +the chance she would. You see, a nor’easter rakes right +across the mouth of our harbor and drives off any sail tryin’ +to get in, and one of two things will happen—either a ship +will be swept out to sea or swept on to Gull P’int. Well, +that feller said to Joe Danforth—Joe and me were +together—‘Has there been a wreck?’ +‘No,’ said Joe, ‘I think not,’ meaning to +answer him. But I had said to Joe at that time, or just before that +feller asked his question, ‘Hadn’t we better go to the +station and get a bite?’ ‘Yes,’ said Joe, meaning +to answer <em>me</em>, and that person—whoever it was, +grabbed up the answer to me and thought it was for him, and went +off accordingly. That is how that bell came to ring. It would be an +awful night for a wreck, wouldn’t it? Hullo!” exclaimed +John Fisher, stopping in his explanation, “What’s that? +If that aint the crittur hisself!”</p> +<p>As the patrolman turned his face to the sea, the boys looked off +in that direction, and they were quick enough to see a rocket +exploding in the air, scattering down a shower of tinted stars. +This bright constellation faded away into the night, when suddenly +up, up into the darkness, shot two vivid lines of fire, parting as +they swept higher and higher, exploding in stars till the whole +seemed like immense forks of gold with spreading, jeweled +prongs.</p> +<p>“They let go a couple then,” said Will.</p> +<p>“O look, Tony!” cried Charlie.</p> +<p>While the boys were watching the rockets, John Fisher was +eagerly handling his Coston light. The design of this is to signal +to any wreck, or to warn vessels away from an unsafe shore. John +now ignited his light and, holding it up, ran along the beach. His +big, burly form wrapped in a coarse, heavy suit, threw an immense +shadow on the sands, while the light of his torch so colored the +beach that he seemed to be trampling on red snow. The foam of the +waves, broken into patches, changed till it became clots of blood. +Beyond all, was that wrathful, howling, restless ocean. Away ran +John Fisher, swinging his light, flinging out his big boots till he +looked like a sea-monster, with unwieldy limbs, plunging through an +atmosphere blood-tinged. At the station they had evidently become +aware of the real situation of things, for there was a moving of +lamps at the windows, then the opening of a door letting out a +bright light. As Will and the boys reached the station, they saw +the big door in one end of the building swinging back, and out +rushed two men pulling a cart. John Fisher here came running +up.</p> +<p>“Wreck is down at Gull’s P’int,” he +said, “so some one told me, and that agrees with the place +where the signals were seen. I guess she is on the nub of the +P’int, and our wreck-gun will reach her.”</p> +<p>“What is a wreck-gun?” Charlie wanted to ask, but +every body seemed too busy to answer questions.</p> +<p>“It will be morning soon,” exclaimed Will. “I +fancy I see a whitish streak now in the east.”</p> +<p>Charlie was not looking at the sky, but, standing on his longest +toe, was trying to get a peep into that mysterious cart dragged +from the station. A man now stood on the axle and lighted a lamp on +a pole. The lamp was inclosed so that the storm could not harm it. +Charlie saw a stout reel in the cart, about which went many turns +of a stout rope. Then there was the wreck-gun. There were also +shovels and various apparatus.</p> +<p>“Now, boys,” shouted Captain Peters, who had charge +of the station, “all hands for the P’int!”</p> +<p>That slow-moving, clumsy man that Charlie had seen in the +station when he called, was now changed to a very nimble-footed +being, and his comrades were as active. Away they went, threatening +to leave Charlie and Tony far behind, but the boys grabbed Will by +the hand and rapidly as possible pushed on after the enterprising +apothecary.</p> +<p>“Getting to be morning,” shouted Will. While the +shadows were still thick on the beach, over in the east was a +grayish, uncertain light. There were occasional discharges of +rockets from the vessel in distress.</p> +<p>“O dear!” said the breathless Charlie.</p> +<p>“I can’t hold out much longer,” thought +Tony.</p> +<p>Will, though, pushed stoutly on, and it was manifest that a +wreck excited him as much as a fire. The distance to Gull Point +from the station was at least a mile and a half. The point itself +was a rocky stretch into the sea measuring about six hundred feet +in length. Day was creeping over the water; finally, a thin, sullen +light, revealing a wild, ghostly tumult of waves. The surf that +ordinarily broke near the shore seemed to whiten the water as far +as the eye could reach. It was the angriest tumult of foam +possible, as if the frothing of millions of enraged creatures of +the sea.</p> +<p>“Ah, there she is!” shouted John Fisher, as the cart +neared the shore-end of the point.</p> +<p>“<em>We</em> will get her!” screamed Charlie, as he +reached the cart. The men laughed.</p> +<p>“It’s a three-masted schooner,” bawled Captain +Peters, “and she’s where the life-boat can’t +reach her, but our wreck-gun will. That craft has keeled over on +Deep Rock, near the very P’int itself! Get out the +gun!”</p> +<p>The men now took from the cart a small cannon, then a mass of +rope, and then a rope of larger size.</p> +<p>“Take out that life-car, too!” shouted Captain +Peters. Charlie watched every thing that was done with an intense +curiosity. He sat down on the cannon to rest his short, fat +legs.</p> +<p>“Sonny!” shouted John Fisher—the roar of the +surf compelled every one to shout—“do you know what we +are up to?”</p> +<p>Charlie shook his head.</p> +<p>“Well, that cannon is loaded, and—”</p> +<p>Up sprang Charlie. He did not want a seat like that.</p> +<p>“And the shot has a light but strong line hitched to it. A +man will p’int the gun so that when the shot goes out it will +fall over the vessel, and carry the line with it. Now watch +him.”</p> +<p>Charlie watched. “Bang!” went the gun. Away went the +shot, the long rope wriggling after it.</p> +<p>“Good!” cried John.</p> +<p>“What is good?” bawled Charlie.</p> +<p>“A good shot! The man sent the shot so that the rope has +fallen across the vessel, I think.”</p> +<p>Others thought so, too, and a man quickly shouted, +“They’re pulling on it! Hurrah!”</p> +<p>Then they all cheered. The crew on board the wreck were steadily +drawing the rope through the water. Charlie looked intently with +both eyes, and he wished that his ears also could be eyes for a +little while.</p> +<p>“Come here!” shouted John to Charlie, and he led the +boy around to a coil of rope, one end of which was attached to the +line going through the water.</p> +<p>“See there, Bub! There is a block, what they call a single +pulley-block, and this stouter rope is doubled through it. It will +soon go to the wreck.”</p> +<p>Another explanation was then bawled at Charlie, who now wished +his eyes were ears, so anxious was he to hear.</p> +<p>“Look at that block, and then there is what they call a +tally-board, and it has some printed directions on it, telling the +men on the wreck just what to do. Only <em>watch</em>!” he +shouted.</p> +<p>The stouter rope had now started on its journey through the +waters, and was taken on board the wreck.</p> +<p>“There,” said John, “you noticed the rope was +doubled through that block?”</p> +<p>Charlie nodded assent.</p> +<p>“That gives us what we call an endless +line—<em>line</em>. O, those noisy waves! The line runs +through the block, I told you, which must have got to the wreck by +this time. Here, you see, one end is made fast. At the wreck the +tally-board told them just where to hitch it. Now watch! They are +hitching on to the line a bigger one yet, and that will be hauled +out to the schooner, and fastened <em>above</em> the other line. A +second tally-board tells them what to do.”</p> +<p>Here John stopped to lay in a fresh stock of breath. Charlie saw +that two of the men on shore had been rigging tackles to long +supports planted firmly in the sand.</p> +<p>“Those tackles,” resumed John, “help us +straighten that second line till it is above the breakers, +and—now watch ’em—here comes the life-car, a sort +of box, you see, that we suspend from the upper rope, and at the +same time it is hitched to the lower or endless line. Now all we +have got to do is to pull on that endless line, and the life-car, +sliding along the upper rope, will spin right out to the vessel, +and—here she goes!”</p> +<p>The life-car was moving along the upper line bound for the +wreck. One or two halts occurred on the way, but the venture was +ultimately successful, and Charlie saw the life-car as the crew of +the wreck eagerly seized it.</p> +<p>“She’s coming back!” he cried.</p> +<p>Captain Peters shouted, “Here she comes, my hearties! Pull +away on the whip!”</p> +<p>This was a title for the endless line.</p> +<p>“Suthin’ in that life-car!” sang out one of +the men.</p> +<p>“Not so very much, I guess,” said another. +“She runs sort of light.”</p> +<p>How the breakers tried to reach the car! Several times the sea +threw itself spitefully, violently upward. One breaker seemed to +make a spring for the car, wetting it with a cloud of spray.</p> +<p>“A real vixen, aint it?” said John. “It +can’t harm any thing. But who is that in the car? A small +cargo.”</p> +<p>It was not a large one certainly. One man doubted if any thing +were there.</p> +<p>Nearer and nearer came the car, riding safely over that white, +yeasty sea. It was pulled across the surf, and the outermost man +laid his hands on it and pushed it. At the same time a little door +in the top slid back, and a boy’s head rose higher and higher +in the car, and as it stopped he was helped to get out. He seemed +to be in a heap, and his movements were stiff, for his legs were +cramped by the cold.</p> +<p>“There!” he screamed, “it’s the last +time I ever want to go on that pesky old sea.”</p> +<p>“Wort Wentworth!” shouted Tony, springing forward to +meet this returned knight.</p> +<p>“Hullo, Tony! Hullo, Charlie!”</p> +<p>“This <em>you</em>?” asked Charlie.</p> +<p>“Yes, it’s me just about drowned. They let me come +alone. The others were not quite ready.”</p> +<p>“Haven’t you been through a lot?” asked +Tony.</p> +<p>“More than I want to see again.”</p> +<p>“How many are on board the ‘White +Shield?’”</p> +<p>“I feared it was she when I laid my eyes on her,” +said Captain Peters.</p> +<p>“Five in the crew, my father, and one +passenger.”</p> +<p>“Dis a s’prise,” said a new-comer, looking at +Wort. It was Juggie.</p> +<p>“It <em>is</em> a surprise,” was Wort’s reply. +“Catch me going again.”</p> +<p>“You’d rather be de keeper ob de great +seal.”</p> +<p>“Yes, indeed!”</p> +<p>Among the arrivals by the life-car was the skipper of the +“White Shield,” and there was also a man wrapped in a +cloak.</p> +<p>“He aint a sailor,” said one of the station-hands, +criticising the dress of the man in the cloak.</p> +<p>“It is the passenger,” said Wort.</p> +<p>He was a man still young, and his clothes had an outlandish cut. +He walked up the beach, the four young knights having preceded him. +Then he halted, and gave a look at the boys. The boys halted, and +gave a look at him. Suddenly Tony bounded away, and bounded into +the man’s arms.</p> +<p>What happened afterward, Charlie told Aunt Stanshy at the +breakfast-table.</p> +<p>“Aunt Stanshy, guess what happened at the beach to +Tony.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know, I am sure. I give it up.”</p> +<p>“Well, the ‘White Shield’ had a passenger, and +when he got on the beach, the first thing we knew, Tony Blanco went +rushing at him, and the man put his arms round Tony, and then Tony +came pulling him along to us, and said, ‘It’s my +father, boys!’ And he was real pleasant, and said he’d +send as some oranges.”</p> +<p>“Tony’s father? How did he turn up? I thought he was +in Italy.”</p> +<p>“Well, you see, aunty, he was in a ship coming from Italy, +and the ship, I b’lieve, had a storm and was sinking when the +‘White Shield’ and another vessel came along, and they +two took the people from Tony’s father’s ship. But that +other vessel, you know, was going right to Italy, and so all but +Tony’s father went back in her, because you know they were +Italian sailors. Tony’s father, though, was a passenger, and +he wanted to come to America, and so he got aboard the ‘White +Shield’ and came here, right where Tony was; and, +wasn’t that funny?”</p> +<p>“I should think it was.”</p> +<p>“He and Tony were real glad to see one another. Juggie +called it, aunty, ‘a second s’prise.’”</p> +<p>The “s’prises,” though, were not all over. +Charlie had a nap after breakfast, and finishing it, went to a +window to see how the outside world looked. He stayed there only a +minute, and then rushed to the head of the stairs leading down +cellar, calling:</p> +<p>“Aunt Stanshy! Aunt Stanshy, come quick, do! There goes +Tony’s father!”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy was down cellar fishing for pork in a capacious +barrel. She dropped the piece for which she had successfully +angled, and rushed to the stairs as if a whirlwind was after her. +Breathless, she arrived at Charlie’s window.</p> +<p>“There, aunty, that is he!”</p> +<p>“What, Mr. Walton?”</p> +<p>“No, Mr. Walton is coming down the lane; but don’t +you see that other man going up the lane?”</p> +<p>“O, yes, I see now.”</p> +<p>“Well, that is him.”</p> +<p>“But what are those two men doing? If they aint shaking +hands! and now they’ve got their arms round one another, and +there they go walking off together! It is the queerest proceeding! +Why, they act as if they had known one another a long +time!”</p> +<p>Aunt Stanshy had too much of the woman in her to let the matter +drop there.</p> +<p>She said to herself, “If any one knows about this thing, +it is Miss Persnips. I’ll clap on my bonnet and go up +there.”</p> +<p>Miss Persnips generally had a bag full of news, and it was the +only thing in the store for which she did not make a charge. Its +mouth was hospitably open to all comers, and the distribution of +its contents had an effect on her custom like the giving out of a +chromo as a present. This morning, though, while the assortment in +the bag was quite full and varied, it had nothing on the above +subject. Aunt Stanshy went home disappointed. If she could have +gone to Mr. Walton’s she would have witnessed something of +interest.</p> +<p>Mr. Walton was leading the stranger into his house, when he +said, “Stop a moment in the parlor and I will go into the +sitting-room and prepare her.”</p> +<p>“All right.”</p> +<p>“Mother,” said Mr. Walton, stepping into the +sitting-room, “would you like to see an old friend this +morning? You feel comfortable?”</p> +<p>“O yes; bring him in.”</p> +<p>“Shall I tell you who it is?”</p> +<p>“No, let me have the surprise.”</p> +<p>Her son led the stranger in.</p> +<p>“Why, Fred!” exclaimed Mrs. Walton.</p> +<p>The man dropped on his knees, and put his head in her lap. And +this was all that the mother did—she stroked his head with +her hands, saying: “Why, Fred! Fred! my poor boy!”</p> +<p>That was the way the long-absent son came home.</p> +<p>Fred Walton had been a wayward young man, finally going to Italy +in a sailing-vessel, engaging to do any work for the sake of his +passage.</p> +<p>In Italy, he took the name of Blanco, purposing to build up a +new character on the basis of a new name. The new character he +needed, but his old name would have served him. He there married a +young Italian lady who had met his older brother in his travels and +was an object of deep interest to him, but he had relinquished her +to the younger brother. Their married home was a pretty one, and a +view of it Fred sent to his family in America. It was a picture of +this home, taken at another season of the year, and from a +different point of view, that his mother and brother had noticed, +and yet failed to identify, when Tony’s pictures were +inspected. Fred’s wife dying, leaving a little boy, Antonio, +four years old, Fred wished to return to America, but concluded to +remain in Italy, educating his boy in English as well as Italian. A +year before this story opens, he wrote his mother that he was about +to sail for a port in Algeria. It was a wild business enterprise, +and he sent his little boy, Antonio, with friends—also named +Blanco—to New York, expecting soon to follow them, and +desiring in the meantime to make sure of a good home for Antonio. +During his absence in Africa he wrote home, but his letters +miscarried. Nothing had been heard since the day he sailed from +Italy, and his old mother anxiously thought of him on stormy +nights, fearing lest he had gone down into the wide grave of the +sea. The Blanco family that cared for Tony in New York, obliged to +leave the city by the failure of their work, came to Seamont to +find it there awhile. When they returned to New York, as Tony was +attached to Seamont, they left him with the Badger family for +awhile. They were waiting to hear from Tony’s father about +his plans for the boy, when he appeared in an unexpected fashion to +look directly after Tony, and visit also his relatives; but they +and the club were sorry to know that, contrary to his wishes, he +must go back to Italy, and take Tony with him.</p> +<p>“Ah, now I understand about that boy,” said Mr. +Walton, to his mother; “why he looked familiar, and if the +people who brought him had had a different name, I might have +looked into it, but I thought they must be relatives. Of course, +not hearing from Fred, we had no thought that his child was +here.”</p> +<p>And the mother said, “I hope my boy will now take his true +name, and come again soon, and bring Antonio Walton with +him.”</p> +<p>But would he and Tony ever come again? Tony came to bid good-bye +to Charlie, and said, very soberly and touchingly, +“We’d better kiss each other, for I feel that we shall +never see each other again. Good-bye, for we shall never see each +other any more.”</p> +<p>It was a very pathetic speech, and Charlie said, mournfully, as +he kissed him, “Well, good-bye, Tony.”</p> +<p>Tony and his father went to Italy in a bark that left Seamont +bound for the Mediterranean. Charlie watched the vessel from the +barn window.</p> +<p>Like a gull that flying afar sinks lower and then disappears +behind some rising billow, so the sails of the bark, receding +farther and farther, vanished behind that blue rim of the horizon +that rises up to check our sight and hide away the vessels that may +hold our dearest hopes.</p> +<h3 class="chap"><a id="Ch_20" name="Ch_20">Chapter XX.</a></h3> +<h2>The Round Higher Up.</h2> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of +Contents</a></p> +<p>Miss Barry was talking to her boys one Sunday; “Boys, you +have had an Up-the-Ladder Club this past year, and I hope it has +not been simply a play-ladder, but while playing you have also done +something else. I think you have done a good work for temperance, +and you have been kind to another in trouble. I think you have +tried to keep your badge clean, and not stain it by bad words. You +have tried to get hold of some useful knowledge through your club. +All that is excellent as far as it goes. But I am thinking, while +you are on this ladder, whether there may not be a round you +haven’t touched, and yet one you ought to put your foot on. +Between this time and next Sunday, please think what that other +round may be, the round higher up.”</p> +<p>The boys looked sober, but no one made a reply.</p> +<p>“The round higher up,” Charlie would sometimes say +to himself during the week.</p> +<p>Sometimes in the midst of his play and his studies, that thought +would visit him, “the round higher up.” It came to him +in his dreams. Looking up, he saw a silver ladder and it stretched +above him, reaching at last a beautiful palace. Over the palace, +flashed out, in letters of gold, the words, “God’s +Palace.” But what was it Charlie saw not far from this +ladder? Another, but O, so mean and little! Charlie knew it.</p> +<p>“My ladder!” he shouted. “Let me see how many +rounds are there!”</p> +<p>“I think there is room for a round higher up,” said +a voice. “That, as it is, wont touch God’s +Palace.”</p> +<p>Startled by the sound Charlie awoke.</p> +<p>The next Sunday Miss Barry said: “Boys, I don’t +think I need ask about the round higher up which your ladder needs. +You understand me, and I want you to put it in. We never can climb +very high, unless our life is pure and lovely and noble. It must be +like Christ’s life, and filled with the beautiful thoughts +and purposes he had. That is the round higher up we +need.”</p> +<p>These words stirred Charlie still more deeply. He thought about +that round higher up. If he could only put it into his ladder and +get his feet on it! One night he went to his little bedroom, +thinking still about the round higher up. He could lie in bed and +look up to the white, silver stars that, like ladder-rounds, seemed +to stretch across the sky in lines going higher and higher. If he +only had rounds by which he could climb as high as they, his ladder +would be tall enough. But how find and where get “the round +higher up?” Once more he dreamed and he was looking again at +a ladder that starting on the ground stretched up a little way and +then suddenly stopped.</p> +<p>“My ladder!” exclaimed Charlie. Then it seemed to +him as if above his ladder he saw a bright, beautiful, silver +round, but it was up so high he could not reach it! Looking at it, +longing to plant his feet upon it, some one seemed to approach +Charlie whom he immediately knew, because he resembled pictures in +the old family Bible at Aunt Stanshy’s. He had a +shepherd’s crook in his hand, and there was a crown of thorns +on his head.</p> +<p>“That’s the Good Shepherd,” thought +Charlie.</p> +<p>“You can’t reach that round. Let me help you,” +said the Good Shepherd. He laid down his crook and lifted Charlie +at once. Then the beauty of the dream, its light, its ladder, the +Good Shepherd, seemed to vanish, slowly though, even as the stars +die away out of the early morning sky. Charley knew what it all +meant. When he awoke and thought it over, he knelt by his bed and +he prayed to the Saviour. He told him that he wanted to lead that +better life, and would he not lift a little fellow where he could +not climb himself? And a Saviour’s arms, ever waiting to +raise us all, were lowered for Charlie’s help, and they +lifted him to the “round higher up.”</p> +<p>Is it not time that we all looked upward, beseeching God to +forgive us, receive us, and make us his forever? Forget not +“the round higher up,” and through the strength of God, +may it become yours! This very day may your feet be planted on +it!</p> +<h2>THE END.</h2> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Knights of the White Shield, by Edward A. Rand + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KNIGHTS OF THE WHITE SHIELD *** + +***** This file should be named 14903-h.htm or 14903-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/9/0/14903/ + +Produced by Bill Tozier, Barbara Tozier, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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