Part 3 (2/2)
”I got out o' that hole purty careful, now I tell ye; but I left my cap floatin' on the open pool o' water,” the expressman said. ”Why, I was a cake of ice in two minutes--and six miles from anywhere, whichever way I turned.”
”Oh, Walky!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Janice, interested. ”What ever did you do?”
”Wal, I had either to keep on or go back. Didn't much matter which.
And in them days I hated ter gin up when I'd started a thing. But I had ter git that cap first of all. I couldn't afford ter lose it nohow. And another thing, I'd a froze my ears if I hadn't got it.
”So I goes back to the bank of the crick and cut me a pole. Then I fished out the cap, wrung it out as good as I could, and clapped it on my head. Before I'd clumb the crick bank ag'in that cap was as stiff as one o' them tin helmets ye read about them knights wearin' in the middle ages--er-haw! haw! haw!
”I had ter laig it then, believe me!” pursued the expressman. ”Was cased in ice right from my head ter my heels. Could git erlong jest erbout as graceful as one of these here cigar-store Injuns--er-haw!
haw! haw!
”I dunno how I made it ter Ma'am Kittridge's--but I done it! The old lady seen the plight I was in, and she made me sit down by the kitchen fire just like I was. Wouldn't let me take off a thing.
”She het up some kinder hot tea--like ter burnt all the skin off my tongue and throat, I swow!” pursued Walky. ”Must ha' drunk two quarts of it, an' gradually it begun ter thaw me out from the inside. That's how I saved my feet--sure's you air born!
”When I come inter her kitchen I clumped in with feet's big as an elephant's an' no more feelin' in them than as though they'd been boxes and not feet. If I'd peeled off that ice and them boots, the feet would ha' come with 'em. But the old lady knowed what ter do, for a fac'.
”Hardest dollar ever I airned,” repeated Walky, shaking his head, ”and jest carryin' a mess of goose feathers----
”Hullo! who's this here comin' aboard?”
Janice had run to answer a knock at the side door. Aunt 'Mira came more slowly with the sitting room lamp which she had lighted.
”Well, Janice Day! Air ye all deef here?” exclaimed a high and rather querulous voice.
”Do come in, Mrs. Scattergood,” cried the girl.
”I declare, Miz Scattergood,” said Aunt 'Mira, with interest, ”you here at this time o' night? I am glad to see ye.”
”Guess ye air some surprised,” said the snappy, birdlike old woman whom Janice ushered into the sitting room. ”I only got back from Skunk's Holler, where I been visitin', this very day. And what d'ye s'pose I found when I went into Hopewell Drugg's?”
”Goodness!” said Aunt 'Mira. ”They ain't none o' them sick, be they?”
”Sick enough, I guess,” exclaimed Mrs. Scattergood, nodding her head vigorously: ”Leastways, 'Rill oughter be. I told her so! I was faithful in season, and outer season, warnin' her what would happen if she married that Drugg.”
”Oh, Mrs. Scattergood! What has happened?” cried Janice, earnestly.
”What's happened to Hopewell?” added Aunt 'Mira.
”Enough, I should say! He's out carousin' with that fiddle of his'n--down ter Lem Parraday's tavern this very night with some wild gang of fellers, and my 'Rill hum with that child o' his'n. And what d'ye think?” demanded Mrs. Scattergood, still excitedly. ”What d'ye think's happened ter that Lottie Drugg?”
”Oh, my, Mrs. Scattergood! What _has_ happened to poor little Lottie?”
Janice cried.
”Why,” said 'Rill Drugg's mother, lowering her voice a little and moderating her asperity. ”The poor little thing's goin' blind again, I do believe!”
CHAPTER III
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