Part 15 (1/2)
”Huh! ye look it,” declared the woman, without any politeness at all.
And the boy _did_ look rather dilapidated. He had gotten more than a little wet in the first of the shower, and he had pawed around among the ”internal arrangements” of the balky auto to such purpose, that he was disheveled and oil-streaked from head to foot.
”I'm in disguise just now, Ma'am,” laughed Tom, cheerfully. ”But really, I have not come begging either food or lodging. Is your husband at home?”
”Yes, he is. And he'll be here in a minute and chase ye off the place--ef ye don't scat at once,” said the woman, sourly. ”_He_ wouldn't hold back this dog, now, I tell ye.”
”Please believe me, Madam,” urged Tom, ”that I am better than I appear.
Our car broke down on the road yonder, and I have come to see if I can hire a team of horses to drag it into the Corners.”
”Car? What kind of a car? Ain't no railroad here,” she said, suspiciously.
The dog had barked himself breathless by now and they could talk a little easier. Tom smiled, as he replied:
”Our motor car--automobile.”
”Huh! why didn't ye say so?” she demanded. ”Tryin' to fool me. It's bad enough ter drive one o' them abominations over people's roads, but tryin' to make out ye air on a train--though, land o' Goshen! some of ye make 'em go as fast as airy express I ever see. Wal! what about your ortermobile?”
”It's broken down,” said Tom, feeling that he had struck the wrong house, after all, if he expected help.
”I'm 'tarnal glad of it!” snapped the farmer's wife. ”Nuthin' could please me better. Las' time I went to town one o' them plagued nuisances come hootin' erlong an' made the old mare back us clean inter the ditch--an' I broke a dozen an' a ha'f of aigs right in the lap of my new bombazeen dress. Drat 'em all, I say!”
”I am very sorry, Ma'am, that the accident occurred. But I can a.s.sure you I was not the cause of it,” Tom said, quietly, and stifling a great desire to laugh. ”I wish only to get your husband to help me with his team--and I will pay him well.”
”Huh! what d'ye call well?” she demanded. ”A boy like you ain't likely to have much money.”
Thus brought to a ”show down,” Tom promptly pulled out his billcase and opened it in the light that streamed out of the doorway. The woman could see that he carried quite a bundle of notes--and that they were not all single dollar bills!
”Land o' Goshen!” she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. ”Where'd you steal all that money, ye young ruffian? I thought there was suthin' mighty bad about you when I fust set eyes on ye.”
This was a compliment that Tom Cameron had not been looking for! He was certainly taken aback at the woman's words, and before he could make any response, she raised her voice and began to shout for ”Sam!”
”Crickey!” thought the boy, ”I hope Sam will have a better opinion of me than she does, or I'm likely to get into trouble.”
He began to back off the porch, and had his ankle not pained him so, he certainly would have set off on a run. Perhaps it is well he did not try this, however, for the woman cried:
”You move a step off'n thet platform before Sam Blodgett comes an' I'll open the lower ha'f of this door and let the dawg loose on ye!”
Then she bawled for her husband again, and pretty soon a shouted response came from the direction of the barns. Then a lantern flickered and swung, and Tom knew the man was coming toward the house.
He appeared--a short, heavy-set man, barefooted, and with a pail of milk in one hand and the lantern in the other.
”What's the matter, Sairy?” he demanded.
”Who's this?”
”Thet's what _I_ wanter know,” snapped the woman. ”It 'pears like he's one o' these runaway boys ye read about in the papers--an' he's stole some money.”
”I haven't either!” cried Tom, in some exasperation. ”I don't have to steal money--or anything else, I hope. I showed her that I had some money, so that she would believe I could pay you for some work I wanted done----”