Part 31 (1/2)
”Then the chances are he'd get hold of both Louis an' me. If it is to be done, I oughter do it.”
”I declare I don't know what is best”; and Aunt Nancy stood with clasped hands as if expecting Jack would advise. ”It is only right I should atone in some way for that which I did; but the flesh is indeed weak when it comes to parting with either of you.”
”Perhaps there might be some way for me to get clear, an' you'd feel so much better that I'd be contented to stay almost anywhere.”
The little woman made no reply; she remained silent so long Jack began to be afraid she was ill, and as he stood watching her, the notes of a song of praise to the Maker rose high above the deacon's querulous tones, while mingling with it was the murmur of the surf as it rolled up on the beach, the whole forming a sort of melody which was soothing to the little hunchback.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A DISASTER.
Not for several moments was Aunt Nancy able to decide what should be done, and then, as the song died away leaving only the deacon's words to mingle with the reverberation of the surf, she said in a voice which sounded strained and harsh,--
”It must be done. You shall bring him here, and I will tell the story myself. When he comes, take Louis and walk down by the beach for a while.”
The little woman could say no more, for at that moment Deacon Downs asked in his blandest tones,--
”Do you think it would be possible to make a leetle more coffee, Sister Curtis?”
Aunt Nancy had never been known to refuse a request which involved only her own discomfort or labor, and on this occasion there was no exception to the rule.
”It will be ready in a few minutes, Deacon,” she replied in a trembling voice, at the same time keeping her face turned from the party lest they should see the tears in her eyes.
Jack understood there was no necessity of any further conversation, therefore walked slowly away, feeling very much like a fellow who voluntarily goes to receive unmerited punishment.
He now had no fear of Bill Dean and his friends. The present trouble was so much greater than any they could cause him that it was as if this particular trio of boys never existed.
Not until he had walked to and fro for half an hour did he begin to realize it might not be possible to find the farmer amid the throng.
Each succeeding train brought additional wors.h.i.+ppers or visitors to the grove, and the walks were so densely lined with people that he might have pa.s.sed within ten feet of Mr. Pratt without seeing him.
Having made up his mind to that which he considered a sacrifice, he was impatient to have it finished, and walked rapidly until the afternoon was more than half spent; but all in vain.
It seemed more than probable he had gone home, or at least Jack so argued to himself, and returned to the tent looking as if suffering from some grievous disappointment.
Aunt Nancy was at the flap of the canvas house with an expression of anxiety on her face, but the baby was nowhere to be seen.
”Where's Louis?” Jack asked in alarm.
”Mrs. Hayes is taking care of him. I thought it best he shouldn't be seen when Mr. Pratt came. Will he be here soon?”
”I couldn't find him; he must have gone home.”
The little woman's face lighted up wonderfully as she cried,--
”O Jack dear, I know it is wicked to say, but I am _so_ glad! It is only right I should bear the burden I myself have caused; but the thought of losing you and the baby almost broke my heart.”
Then she kissed him on both cheeks, and again did he feel the moisture of her tears.