Part 10 (1/2)
He did not remove his hat, but stood in the centre of the floor, whip in hand, as he said,--
”Mornin' ma'am, mornin'. I'm from Scarborough, an' my name is Nathan Pratt. P'rhaps you've heard of me.”
Aunt Nancy was about to say she never had, meaning that her neighbors never had spoken of him as a person of importance; but she checked herself on remembering this would be a falsehood because of what Jack had said.
”I have heard the name,” she replied faintly.
”I thought so, I thought so. I've lived, man an' boy, in Scarborough for nigh on to fifty years, an' when that's been done without givin'
anybody a chance to say a word agin me, except that I want my own, as other folks do, then it would be kinder strange if I wasn't known within a dozen miles of home.”
”Was that all you came here to say?” Aunt Nancy asked.
”Of course not,--of course not”; and the farmer seated himself without waiting for an invitation. ”The fact of the matter is, ma'am, I'm huntin' for a couple of children what drifted ash.o.r.e on my place the other day. One of 'em was a hunchback, an' I must say he is bad, for after eatin' all the food in my house that he an' the young one wanted, he run away, leavin' me in the lurch.”
”I don't suppose they stole it, did they?” and Aunt Nancy spoke very sharply, for it made her angry to hear such things said about Jack.
”No, it wasn't exactly that,” and the farmer hesitated, as if to give her the impression something equally wrong had been done by the boy; ”but as a citizen of the town I don't want it said we let a couple of youngsters run around loose like calves.”
”What do you intend to do with them?” the little woman asked severely.
Farmer Pratt had no idea of telling a secret which he believed would be worth at least an hundred dollars to him, and by keeping it he again defeated himself.
”They oughter be carried to the poor farm till we can find out who owns 'em. You see I'm as big a tax-payer as there is in Scarborough, an' if any other town takes care of the children, we're likely to be sued for the cost of keepin'. Now I don't believe in goin' to law, for it's dreadful expensive, so I've come out to save myself an' my neighbors what little money I can.”
If Farmer Pratt had told the truth, Aunt Nancy would have done all in her power to aid him, and Jack could not but have rejoiced, although the farmer received a rich reward; but by announcing what was a false proposition, he aroused the little woman's wrath.
She no longer remembered that it was wrong even to act a lie, and thought only of the possibility that those whom she had learned to love were really to be taken to the refuge for paupers, if her visitor should be so fortunate as to find them.
”It seems hard to put children in such a place,” she said, with an effort to appear calm.
”That's only prejudice, ma'am, sheer prejudice. What do we keep up sich inst.i.toots for? Why, to prevent one man from bein' obleeged to spend more'n another when a lot of beggars come around.”
”And yet it seems as if almost any one would be willing to feed a couple of children who were lost.”
”There's where you are makin' a mistake ag'in, ma'am. Youngsters eat more'n grown folks, an' I know what I'm talkin' about, 'cause I've raised a family. Heaven helps them as helps themselves, an' when we find two like the one I'm huntin' for, then I say since heaven won't take a hand at it, the town should.”
Aunt Nancy remained silent, but those who knew her intimately would have said, because of the manner in which she moved her chair to and fro, that the little woman was struggling very hard to ”rule her spirit.”
”I don't reckon you know anything about 'em, ma'am,” Farmer Pratt said after a long pause, during which Aunt Nancy had rocked violently, with her gaze fixed upon an overbold honey bee who was intent on gathering the sweets from a honeysuckle blossom which the wind had forced through the open window.
”I know this much,” she replied with vehemence, ”that I hope you won't find the children if it is simply to carry them to the poor farm. We are told of the reward which--”
”Who said anything about a reward?” the farmer asked in alarm, fearing that which he wished should remain a secret was already known.
”The Book tells us what shall be the reward of those who give a cup of cold water only to these His little ones--”
”Oh! is that it?” and the visitor appeared greatly relieved. ”I count myself about as good as my neighbors, but when it comes to keepin' a parcel of children, after I've paid my taxes to run a place especially for sich as they, then I say it's a clear waste of money, an' that's as much of a sin as anything else.”
”We won't argue the matter,” the little woman replied with dignity, ”but I hope the time will never come that I, poor as I am, can count the pennies in a dollar when it is a question of giving aid or comfort to the distressed.”
”Since you haven't seen the youngsters, there's no need of my stayin'