Little Folks Astray Part 19

CHAPTER XIII.

THE PUMPKIN HOOD.

To the "Eagle" office they went--obstinate Horace, patient Annt Madge, and between them the "blue-bottle Fly."

"I do feel right sorry, auntie," said Horace, a sudden sense of shame coming over him; "but I'm so sure I dropped the money, you know; or I wouldn't drag you up this hill when you're so tired."

A sharp answer rose to Mrs. Allen's lips, but she held it back.

"Only a boy! In a fair way to learn a useful lesson, too. Let me keep my temper! If I scold, I spoil the whole."

They entered the office, and left with the editor this advertis.e.m.e.nt:--

"Lost.--Between Prospect Park and Fulton Ferry, a porte-monnaie, marked 'Horace S. Clifford,' containing thirty-five dollars. The finder will be suitably rewarded by leaving the same at No. ----, Cor. Fifth Ave. and ---- Street."

"It is no matter about advertising Prudy's purse, it was so shabby,"

said Aunt Madge; and on their way back to the ferry-house she bought her another.

"O, thank you, auntie, darling," said Prudy; "and thank you, too, Horace, for losing my old one; it wasn't fit to be seen. And here is a whole dollar inside! O, Aunt Madge, _are_ you an angel?"

"Prue, you deserve your good luck; you don't come down on a fellow, hammer and tongs, because he happens to meet with an accident."

"Horace," said Dotty, meekly, "are you willing to carry my gloves?"

"Yes, to be sure; but you don't want to go home bare-handed--do you?"

"Why, I was thinking how nice 'twould be, Horace, to have you take 'em, and lose 'em, and me have a new pair. There's a hole in the thumb."

This little sally amused everybody, and Horace had the grace not to be sensitive, though the laugh was against him.

"Another queer day," said he, when they were at last at home again. "I don't know what will become of us all, if we keep on like this."

The poor boy was trying his best to brave it out; but Aunt Madge could see that his heart was sore.

"Lost every cent I'm worth," mused he, turning his coat-pocket inside out, and scowling at it. "Got to be a beggar as long as I stay in New York!"

The whole party were tired, and Horace's gloom seemed to fill the parlor like a fog, and make even the gas look dim.

"I feel dreffly," said Fly, curling her head under her brother's arm, like a chicken under its mother's wing--a way she had when she was troubled. "I feel just zif I didn't love n.o.body in the world, and there didn't n.o.body love me."

This brought Horace around in a minute, and called forth a pickaback ride.

"Music! let us have music," said Aunt Madge, flying to the piano. "When little folks grow so cold-hearted, in my house, that they don't love anybody, it's time to warm their hearts with some happy little songs.

Come, girls!"

She played a few simple tunes, and the children all sang till the fog of gloom had disappeared, and the gas burned brightly once more.

Half an hour afterwards, just as Fly was told she ought to be sleepy, because her bye-low hymn had been sung,--"Sleep, little one, like a lamb in the fold,"--and she had answered that she "couldn't be sleepy, athout auntie would hurry quick to come in with a drink of water," there was a strange arrival. Nathaniel, the waiting man, ushered into the parlor a droll little old woman, dressed in a short calico gown, with gay figures over it as large as cabbages; calf-skin shoes; and a green pumpkin hood, with a bow on top.

"Good evening, ma'am," said Horace, rising, and offering her a chair.

She did not seem to see very well, in spite of her enormous spectacles; for she took no notice of the chair, and remained standing in the middle of the floor.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PUMPKIN HOOD.]

"She stares at me so hard!" thought Horace--"that's the reason she can't see anything else."--"Please take a chair, ma'am."

"Can't stop to sit down. Is your name Horace S. Clifford?" said the old woman, in a very feeble voice.

Horace looked at her; she had not a tooth in her head.

"Yes, ma'am; my name is Horace Clifford," said he, respectfully. He had great reverence for age, and could keep his mouth from twitching; but I'm sorry to say Prudy's danced up at the corners, and Dotty's opened and showed her back teeth The woman must have had all those clothes made when she was young, for n.o.body wore such things now; but it wasn't likely she knew that, poor soul!

"Did you go to the 'Brooklyn Eagle' office, to-day, to ad-_ver_-tise some lost money, little boy?"

"Yes, ma'am.--Why, that advertis.e.m.e.nt can't have been printed _so_ quick!"

"No, I calculate not. Did you go in with a lady, and a leetle, oneasy, springy kind of a leetle girl?"

"Why, that's me," put in Fly.

"Yes, ma'am--yes; were you there? What do you know about it?"

"Don't be in a hurry, little boy. I want to be safe and sure. I expect you took notice of a young man in a bottle-green coat,--no, a greenish-black coat,--a-sittin' down by the door."

"O, I don't know. Yes, I think I did. Was he the one? Did he find the money?"

"Did you walk up Orange Street?" continued the old woman. "No, I mean Cranberry Street?"

"O, _dear_, I don't know! Prudy, run, call Aunt Madge. Please tell me, ma'am, have you got it with you? Is my name on the inside?"

"Wait till the little girl calls your aunt. Perhaps she'd be willing to let me tell the story in my own way. I'd ruther deal with grown folks,"

said the provoking old lady.

Horace's eyes flashed, but he contrived to keep his temper.

"It is my purse, ma'am, and my aunt knows nothing about it. I can tell you just how it looks, and all there is in it."

"Perhaps you are one of the kind that can tell folks a good deal, and thinks n.o.body knows things so well as yourself," returned the disagreeable old woman, smiling and showing her toothless gums. "From what I can learn, I should judge you talked ruther too loud about your money; for there was a pusson heerd you in the ferry-boat, and took pains to go in the same car afterwards, and pick your pocket."

"Pick--my--pocket?"

"Yes, your pocket. You wise, wonderful young man!"

"How? When? Where?"

"This is how," said the old woman, quick as a thought putting out her hand, and thrusting it into Horace's breast pocket.

"O, it's auntie's rings--it's auntie's rings," cried Fly, jumping up, and seizing the pretended old woman by her calico sleeve.