He had driven about half a mile when he met a peddler. There was nothing unusual or alarming in such a circumstance, surely; but as Ducklow kept on, it troubled him.
"He'll stop to the house now, most likely, and want to trade. Findin' nobody but Taddy, there's no knowin' what he'll be tempted to do. But I a'n't a-goin' to worry. I'll defy anybody to find them bonds. Besides, she may be home by this time. I guess she'll hear of the fire-alarm, and hurry home: it'll be jest like her. She'll be there, andtrade with the peddler?" thought Ducklow, uneasily. Then a frightful fancy possessed him. "She has threatened two or three times to sell that old trunkful of papers. He'll offer a big price for 'em, and ten to one she'll let him have 'em. Why didn't I think on 't? What a stupid blunderbuss I be!"
As Ducklow thought of it, he felt almost certain that Mrs. Ducklow had returned home, and that she was bargaining with the peddler at that moment. He fancied her smilingly receiving bright tin-ware for the old papers; and he could see the tape-tied envelope going into the bag with the rest! The result was, that he turned about and whipped the old mare home again in terrific haste, to catch the departing peddler.
Arriving, he found the house as he had left it, and Taddy occupied in making a kite-frame.
"Did that peddler stop here?"
"I ha'n't seen no peddler."
"And ha'n't yer Ma Ducklow been home, neither?"
"No."
And with a guilty look, Taddy put the kite-frame behind him.
Ducklow considered. The peddler had turned up a cross-street: he would probably turn down again and stop at the house, after all: Mrs. Ducklow might by that time be at home: then the sale of old papers would be very likely to take place. Ducklow thought of leaving word that he did not wish any old papers in the house to be sold, but feared lest the request might excite Taddy's suspicions.
"I don't see no way but for me to take the bonds with me," thought he, with an inward groan.
He accordingly went to the garret, took the envelope out of the trunk, and placed it in the breast-pocket of his overcoat, to which he pinned it, to prevent it by any chance from getting out. He used six large, strong pins for the purpose, and was afterwards sorry he did not use seven.
"There's suthin' losin' out of yer pocket!" bawled Taddy, as he was once more mounting the wagon.
Quick as lightning, Ducklow clapped his hand to his breast. In doing so, he loosed his hold of the wagon-box and fell, raking his shin badly on the wheel.
"Yer side-pocket! it's one o' yer mittens!" said Taddy.
"You rascal! how you scared me!"
Seating himself in the wagon, Ducklow gently pulled up his trousers-leg to look at the bruised part.
"Got anything in yer boot-leg to-day, Pa Ducklow?" asked Taddy, innocently.
"Yes, a barked shin!all on your account, too! Go and put that straw back, and fix the carpet; and don't ye let me hear ye speak of my boot-leg again, or I'll boot-leg ye!"
So saying, Ducklow departed.
Instead of repairing the mischief he had done in the sitting-room, Taddy devoted his time and talents to the more interesting occupation of constructing his kite-frame. He worked at that, until Mr. Grantley, the minister, driving by, stopped to inquire how the folks were.
"A'n't to home: may I ride?" cried Taddy, all in a breath.
Mr. Grantley was an indulgent old gentleman, fond of children; so he said, "Jump in"; and in a minute Taddy had scrambled to a seat by his side.
And now occurred a circumstance which Ducklow had foreseen. The alarm of fire had reached Reuben's; and although the report of its falseness followed immediately, Mrs. Ducklow's inflammable fancy was so kindled by it that she could find no comfort in prolonging her visit.
"Mr. Ducklow'll be going for the trunk, and I must go home and see to things, Taddy's such a fellow for mischief! I can foot it; I sha'n't mind it."
And off she started, walking herself out of breath in her anxiety.
She reached the brow of the hill just in time to see a chaise drive away from her own door.
"Who can that be? I wonder if Taddy's there to guard the house! If anything should happen to them bonds!"
Out of breath as she was, she quickened her pace, and trudged on, flushed, perspiring, panting, until she reached the house.
"Thaddeus!" she called.
No Taddy answered. She went in. The house was deserted. And lo! the carpet torn up, and the bonds abstracted!
Mr. Ducklow never would have made such work, removing the bonds. Then somebody else must have taken them, she reasoned.
"The man in the chaise!" she exclaimed, or rather made an effort to exclaim, succeeding only in bringing forth a hoarse, gasping sound. Fear dried up articulation. Vox faucibus hœsit.
And Taddy? He had disappeared; been murdered, perhaps,or gagged and carried away by the man in the chaise.
Mrs. Ducklow flew hither and thither, (to use a favorite phrase of her own,) "like a hen with her head cut off"; then rushed out of the house, and up the street, screaming after the chaise,
"Murder! murder! Stop thief! stop thief!"
She waved her hands aloft in the air frantically. If she had trudged before, now she trotted, now she cantered; but if the cantering of the old mare was fitly likened to that of a cow, to what thing, to what manner of motion under the sun, shall we liken the cantering of Mrs. Ducklow? It was original; it was unique; it was prodigious. Now, with her frantically waving hands, and all her undulating and flapping skirts, she seemed a species of huge, unwieldy bird attempting to fly. Then she sank down into a heavy, dragging walk,breath and strength all gone,no voice left even to scream murder. Then the awful realization of the loss of the bonds once more rushing over her, she started up again. "Half running, half flying, what progress she made!" Then Atkins's dog saw her, and, naturally mistaking her for a prodigy, came out at her, bristling up and bounding and barking terrifically.
"Come here!" cried Atkins, following the dog. "What's the matter? What's to pay, Mrs. Ducklow?"
Attempting to speak, the good woman could only pant and wheeze.
"Robbed!" she at last managed to whisper, amid the yelpings of the cur that refused to be silenced.
"Robbed? How? Who?"
"The chaise. Ketch it."
Her gestures expressed more than her words; and Atkins's horse and wagon, with which he had been drawing out brush, being in the yard near by, he ran to them, leaped to the seat, drove into the road, took Mrs. Ducklow aboard, and set out in vigorous pursuit of the slow two-wheeled vehicle.
"Stop, you, Sir! Stop, you, Sir!" shrieked Mrs. Ducklow, having recovered her breath by the time they came up with the chaise.
It stopped, and Mr. Grantley the minister put out his good-natured, surprised face.
"You've robbed my house! You've took"
Mrs. Ducklow was going on in wild, accusatory accents, when she recognized the benign countenance.
"What do you say? I have robbed you?" he exclaimed, very much astonished.
"No, no! not you! You wouldn't do such a thing!" she stammered forth, while Atkins, who had laughed himself weak at Mr. Ducklow's plight earlier in the morning, now laughed himself into a side-ache at Mrs. Ducklow's ludicrous mistake. "But did youdid you stop at my house? Have you seen our Thaddeus?"
"Here I be, Ma Ducklow!" piped a small voice; and Taddy, who had till then remained hidden, fearing punishment, peeped out of the chaise from behind the broad back of the minister.
"Taddy! Taddy! how came the carpet"
"I pulled it up, huntin' for a marble," said Taddy, as she paused, overmastered by her emotions.
"Taddy! Taddy! how came the carpet"
"I pulled it up, huntin' for a marble," said Taddy, as she paused, overmastered by her emotions.
"And thethe thing tied up in a brown wrapper?"
"Pa Ducklow took it."
"Ye sure?"
"Yes, I seen him!"
"Oh, dear!" said Mrs. Ducklow, "I never was so beat! Mr. Grantley, I hopeexcuse meI didn't know what I was about! Taddy, you notty boy, what did you leave the house for? Be ye quite sure yer Pa Ducklow"
Taddy repeated that he was quite sure, as he climbed from the chaise into Atkins's wagon. The minister smilingly remarked that he hoped she would find no robbery had been committed, and went his way. Atkins, driving back, and setting her and Taddy down at the Ducklow gate, answered her embarrassed "Much obleeged to ye," with a sincere "Not at all," considering the fun he had had a sufficient compensation for his trouble. And thus ended the morning's adventures, with the exception of an unimportant episode, in which Taddy, Mrs. Ducklow, and Mrs. Ducklow's rattan were the principal actors.
At noon Mr. Ducklow returned.
"Did ye take the bonds?" was his wife's first question.
"Of course I did! Ye don't suppose I'd go away and leave 'em in the house, not knowin' when you'd be comin' home?"
"Wal, I didn't know. And I didn't know whuther to believe Taddy or not. Oh, I've had such a fright!"
And she related the story of her pursuit of the minister.
"How could ye make such a fool of yerself? It'll git all over town, and I shall be mortified to death. Jest like a woman, to git frightened!"
"If you hadn't got frightened, and made a fool of yourself, yelling fire, 'twouldn't have happened!" retorted Mrs. Ducklow.
"Wal! wal! say no more about it! The bonds are safe."
"I was in hopes you'd change 'em for them registered bonds Reuben spoke of."
"I did try to, but they told me to the bank it couldn't be did. Then I asked 'em if they would keep 'em for me, and they said they wouldn't object to lockin' on 'em up in their safe; but they wouldn't give me no receipt, nor hold themselves responsible for 'em. I didn't know what else to do, so I handed 'em the bonds to keep."
"I want to know if you did now!" exclaimed Mrs. Ducklow, disapprovingly.
"Why not? What else could I do? I didn't want to lug 'em around with me forever. And as for keepin' 'em hid in the house, we've tried that!" and Ducklow unfolded his weekly newspaper.
Mrs. Ducklow was placing the dinner on the table, with a look which seemed to say, "I wouldn't have left the bonds in the bank; my judgment would have been better than all that. If they are lost, I sha'n't be to blame!" when suddenly Ducklow started and uttered a cry of consternation over his newspaper.
"Why, what have ye found?"
"Bank robbery!"
"Not your bank? Not the bank where your bonds"
"Of course not; but in the very next town! The safe blown open with gunpowder! Five thousand dollars in Gov'ment bonds stole!"
"How strange!" said Mrs. Ducklow. "Now what did I tell ye?"
"I believe you're right," cried Ducklow, starting to his feet. "They'll be safer in my own house, or even in my own pocket!"
"If you was going to put 'em in any safe, why not put 'em in Josiah's? He's got a safe, ye know."
"So he has! We might drive over there and make a visit Monday, and ask him to lock upyes, we might tell him and Laury all about it, and leave 'em in their charge."
"So we might!" said Mrs. Ducklow.
Laura was their daughter, and Josiah her husband, in whose honor and sagacity they placed unlimited confidence. The plan was resolved upon at once.
"To-morrow's Sunday," said Ducklow, pacing the floor. "If we leave the bonds in the bank over night, they must stay there till Monday."
"And Sunday is jest the day for burglars to operate!" added Mrs. Ducklow.
"I've a good notionlet me see!" said Ducklow, looking at the clock. "Twenty minutes after twelve! Bank closes at two! An hour and a half,I believe I could git there in an hour and a half. I will. I'll take a bite and drive right back."
Which he accordingly did, and brought the tape-tied envelope home with him again. That night he slept with it under his pillow. The next day was Sunday; and although Mr. Ducklow did not like to have the bonds on his mind during sermon-time, and Mrs. Ducklow "dreaded dreadfully," as she said, "to look the minister in the face," they concluded that it was best, on the whole, to go to meeting, and carry the bonds. With the envelope once more in his breast-pocket, (stitched in this time by Mrs. Ducklow's own hand,) the farmer sat under the droppings of the sanctuary, and stared up at the good minister, but without hearing a word of the discourse, his mind was so engrossed by worldly cares, until the preacher exclaimed vehemently, looking straight at Ducklow's pew,
"What said Paul? 'I would to God that not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, were both almost and altogether such as I am, except these bonds.' 'Except these bonds'!" he repeated, striking the Bible. "Can you, my hearers,can you say, with Paul, 'Would that all were as I am, except these bonds'?"
A point which seemed for a moment so personal to himself, that Ducklow was filled with confusion, and would certainly have stammered out some foolish answer, had not the preacher passed on to other themes. As it was, Ducklow contented himself with glancing around to see if the congregation was looking at him, and carelessly passing his hand across his breast-pocket to make sure the bonds were still there.
Early the next morning, the old mare was harnessed, and Taddy's adopted parents set out to visit their daughter,Mrs. Ducklow having postponed her washing for the purpose. It was afternoon when they arrived at their journey's end. Laura received them joyfully, but Josiah was not expected home until evening. Mr. Ducklow put the old mare in the barn, and fed her, and then went in to dinner, feeling very comfortable indeed.
"Josiah's got a nice place here. That's about as slick a little barn as ever I see. Always does me good to come over here and see you gittin' along so nicely, Laury."
"I wish you'd come oftener, then," said Laura.
"Wal, it's hard leavin' home, ye know. Have to git one of the Atkins boys to come and sleep with Taddy the night we're away."
"We shouldn't have come to-day, if 't hadn't been for me," remarked Mrs. Ducklow. "Says I to your father, says I, 'I feel as if I wanted to go over and see Laury; it seems an age since I've seen her,' says I. 'Wal,' says he, 's'pos'n' we go!' says he. That was only last Saturday; and this morning we started."
"And it's no fool of a job to make the journey with the old mare!" said Ducklow.
"Why don't you drive a better horse?" said Laura, whose pride was always touched when her parents came to visit her with the old mare and the one-horse wagon.
"Oh, she answers my purpose. Hossflesh is high, Laury. Have to economize, these times."
"I'm sure there's no need of your economizing!" exclaimed Laura, leading the way to the dining-room. "Why don't you use your money, and have the good of it?"
"So I tell him," said Mrs. Ducklow, faintly."Why, Laury! I didn't want you to be to so much trouble to git dinner jest for us! A bite would have answered. Do see, father!"
At evening Josiah came home; and it was not until then that Ducklow mentioned the subject which was foremost in his thoughts.
"What do ye think o' Gov'ment bonds, Josiah?" he incidentally inquired, after supper.
"First-rate!" said Josiah.