Part 6 (1/2)

Philip went home alone from the party, out of sorts with himself, angry with Azalia, and boiling over with wrath toward Paul. He set his teeth together, and clenched his fist. He would like to blacken Paul's eyes and flatten his nose. The words of Azalia--”I know nothing against Paul's character”--rang in his ears and vexed him. He thought upon them till his steps, falling upon the frozen ground, seemed to say, ”Character!--character!--character!” as if Paul had something which he had not.

”So because he has character, and I haven't, you give me the mitten, do you, Miss Azalia?” he said, as if he was addressing Azalia.

He knew that Paul had a good name. He was the best singer in the singing-school, and Mr. Rhythm often called upon him to sing in a duet with Azalia or Daphne. Sometimes he sang a solo so well, that the spectators whispered to one another, that, if Paul went on as he had begun, he would be ahead of Mr. Rhythm.

Philip had left the singing-school. It was dull music to him to sit through the evening, and say ”Down, left, right, up,” and be drilled, hour after hour. It was vastly more agreeable to lounge in the bar-room of the tavern, with a half-dozen good fellows, smoking cigars, playing cards, taking a drink of whiskey, and, when it was time for the singing-school to break up, go home with the girls, then return to the tavern and carouse till midnight or later. To be cut out by Paul in his attentions to Azalia was intolerable.

”Character!--character!--character!” said his boots all the while as he walked. He stopped short, and ground his heels into the frozen earth. He was in front of Miss Dobb's house.

Miss Dobb was a middle-aged lady, who wore spectacles, had a sharp nose, a peaked chin, a pinched-up mouth, thin cheeks, and long, bony fingers.

She kept the village school when Paul and Philip were small boys, and Paul used to think that she wanted to pick him to pieces, her fingers were so long and bony. She knew pretty much all that was going on in the village, for she visited somewhere every afternoon to find out what had happened. Captain Binnacle called her the Daily Advertiser.

”You are the cause of my being jilted, you tattling old maid; you have told that I was a good-for-nothing scapegrace, and I'll pay you for it,”

said Philip, shaking his fist at the house; and walked on again, meditating how to do it, his boots at each successive step saying, ”Character! character!”

He went home and tossed all night in his bed, not getting a wink of sleep, planning how to pay Miss Dobb, and upset Paul.

The next night Philip went to bed earlier than usual, saying, with a yawn, as he took the light to go up stairs, ”How sleepy I am!” But, instead of going to sleep, he never was more wide awake. He lay till all in the house were asleep, till he heard the clock strike twelve, then arose, went down stairs softly, carrying his boots, and, when outside the door, put them on. He looked round to see if there was any one astir; but the village was still,--there was not a light to be seen. He went to Mr. Chrome's shop, stopped, and looked round once more; but, seeing no one, raised a window and entered. The moon streamed through the windows, and fell upon the floor, making the shop so light that he had no difficulty in finding Mr. Chrome's paint buckets and brushes.

Then, with a bucket in his hand, he climbed out, closed the window, and went to Miss Dobb's. He approached softly, listening and looking to see if any one was about; but there were no footsteps except his own. He painted great letters on the side of the house, chuckling as he thought of what would happen in the morning.

”There, Miss Vinegar, you old liar, I won't charge anything for that sign,” he said, when he had finished. He left the bucket on the step, and went home, chuckling all the way.

In the morning Miss Dobb saw a crowd of people in front of her house, looking towards it and laughing. Mr. Leatherby had come out from his shop; Mr. Noggin, the cooper, was there, smoking his pipe; also, Mrs.

Shelbarke, who lived across the street. Philip was there. ”That is a 'cute trick, I vow,” said he. Everybody was on a broad grin.

”What in the world is going on, I should like to know!” said Miss Dobb, greatly wondering. ”There must be something funny. Why, they are looking at my house, as true as I am alive!”

Miss Dobb was not a woman to be kept in the dark about anything a great while. She stepped to the front door, opened it, and with her pleasantest smile and softest tone of voice said: ”Good morning, neighbors; you seem to be very much pleased at something. May I ask what you see to laugh at?”

”Te-he-he-he!” snickered a little boy, who pointed to the side of the house, and the by-standers followed his lead, with a loud chorus of guffaws.

Miss Dobb looked upon the wall, and saw, in red letters, as if she had gone into business, opened a store, and put out a sign,--”MISS DOBB, LIES, SCANDAL, GOSSIP, WHOLESALE AND RETAIL.”

She threw up her hands in horror. Her eyes flashed; she gasped for breath. There was a paint-bucket and brush on the door-step; on one side of the bucket she saw the word Chrome.

”The villain! I'll make him smart for this,” she said, running in, s.n.a.t.c.hing her bonnet, and out again, making all haste towards Squire Capias's office, to have Mr. Chrome arrested.

The Squire heard her story. There was a merry twinkling of his eye, but he kept his countenance till she was through.

”I do not think that Mr. Chrome did it; he is not such a fool as to leave his bucket and brush there as evidence against him; you had better let it rest awhile,” said he.

Mr. Chrome laughed when he saw the sign. ”I didn't do it; I was abed and asleep, as my wife will testify. Somebody stole my bucket and brush; but it is a good joke on Dobb, I'll be blamed if it isn't,” said he.

Who did it? That was the question.

”I will give fifty dollars to know,” said Miss Dobb, her lips quivering with anger.

Philip heard her and said, ”Isn't there a fellow who sometimes helps Mr.