Post Haste Part 28

About a hundred yards from the approaching station, a mail-bag hung suspended from a ma.s.sive wooden frame. The bag weighed nearly eighty pounds. It was fitted so exactly in its place, with reference to the approaching train, that its neck was caught to a nicety in a fork, which swept it with extreme violence off its hook, and laid it in the net.

This process, reversed, had been at the same moment performed on the bag given out by the train. To prevent the receiving and delivering apparatus from causing mutual destruction in pa.s.sing each other, the former is affixed to the upper, the latter to the lower, part of the van. There was a rather severe jerk. The junior sorter exerted his powers, raised the net, and hauled in the bag, while the train with undiminished speed went thundering on.

"What was that I saw on the floor?" asked the junior sorter, looking anxiously round as he set the mail-bags down.

"Only two white mice," replied Bright, who was busy in front of his pigeon-holes. "They nibbled themselves out of a parcel under my very nose. I made a grab at 'em, but they were too quick for me."

"Isn't it strange," observed the registered-letter clerk, sealing one of the bags which had just been made up, "that people _will_ break the law by sending live animals through the post?"

"More strange, it seems to me," returned Bright, as he tied up a bundle of letters, "that the people who do it can't pack 'em properly."

"There's the next station," said the junior sorter, proceeding once more to the net.

"Whew!" shrieked the steam-whistle, as the train went cras.h.i.+ng towards the station. Bright looked out. The frame and its mail-bags were all right and ready. The net was lowered. Another moment and the mail-bags were swept into the van, while the out-going bags were swept off the projecting arm into the fixed net of the station. The train went through the station with a shriek and a roar. There was a bridge just beyond. The junior sorter forgot to haul up the net, which caught some object close to the bridge--no one knew what or how. No one ever does on such occasions! The result was that the whole apparatus was demolished; the side of the van was torn out, and Mr Bright and the junior sorter, who were leaning against it at the time, were sent, in a shower of woodwork, burst bags, and letters, into the air. The rest of the van did not leave the rails, and the train shot out of sight in a few seconds, like a giant war-rocket, leaving wreck and ruin behind!

There are many miraculous escapes in this world. Mr Bright and the junior sorter ill.u.s.trated this truth by rising unhurt from the debris of their recent labours, and began sadly to collect the scattered mails.

These however were not, like their guardians, undamaged. There were several fatal cases, and among these was the Bones epistle. That important doc.u.ment had been caught by a ma.s.s of timber and buried beyond recovery in the ballast of the line.

But why pursue this painful subject further? It is sufficient to say that although the scattered mails were carefully collected, re-sorted, and, finally, as far as possible, delivered, the letter with which we have specially to do never reached its destination. Indeed, it never more saw the light of day, but remained in the hole where it had been buried, and thus it came to pa.s.s that Mr William Stiggs failed to make his appearance on the appointed night of the 15th, and Abel Bones was constrained to venture on his deed of darkness alone.

On the appointed night, however, Tottie did not fail to do her best to frustrate her father's plans. After a solemn, and last, consultation with her mother, she left her home with fluttering heart and dry tongue, and made for the General Post-Office.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

DEEP-LAID PLANS FOR CHECKMATING MR. BONES.

Now it chanced that the Post-Office Message-boys' Literary a.s.sociation had fixed to hold its first grand soiree on the night of the 15th.

It was a great occasion. Of course it was held in Pegaway Hall, the shed in rear of Solomon Flint's dwelling. There were long planks on trestles for tables, and school forms to match. There were slabs of indigestible cake, buns in abundance, and tea, with milk and sugar mixed, in illimitable quant.i.ties. There were paper flowers, and illuminated texts and proverbs round the walls, the whole being lighted up by two magnificent paraffin lamps, which also served to perfume the hall agreeably to such of the members and guests as happened to be fond of bad smells.

On this particular evening invitations had been issued to several friends of the members of the a.s.sociation, among whom were Mr Enoch Blurt and Mr Sterling the missionary. No ladies were invited. A spirited discussion had taken place on this point some nights before the soiree, on which occasion the bashful Poker opposed the motion "that invitations should be issued to ladies," on the ground that, being himself of a susceptible nature, the presence of the fair s.e.x would tend to distract his attention from the business on hand. Big Jack also opposed it, as he thought it wasn't fair to the fair s.e.x to invite them to a meeting of boys, but Big Jack was immediately called to order, and reminded that the Society was composed of young men, and that it was unmanly--not to say unmannerly--to make puns on the ladies. To this sentiment little Grigs shouted "Hear! hear!" in deafening tones, and begged leave to support the motion. This he did in an eloquent but much interrupted speech, which was finally cut short by Macnab insisting that the time of the Society should not be taken up with an irrelevant commentary on ladies by little Grigs; whereupon Sandy Tod objected to interruptions in general--except when made by himself--and was going on to enlarge on the inestimable blessing of free discussion when he was in turn called to order. Then Blunter and Scroggins, and Fat Collins and Bobby Sprat, started simultaneously to their feet, but were put down by Peter Pax, who rose, and, with a calm dignified wave of his hand, remarked that as the question before the meeting was whether ladies should or should not be invited to the soiree, the simplest plan would be to put it to the vote. On this being done, it was found that the meeting was equally divided, whereupon the chairman--Phil Maylands--gave his casting vote in favour of the amendment, and thus the ladies were excluded from the soiree amid mingled groans and cheers.

But although the fair s.e.x were debarred from joining in the festivities, they were represented on the eventful evening in question by a Mrs Square, an angular washer-woman with only one eye (but that was a piercingly black one), who dwelt in the same court, and who consented to act the double part of tea-maker and doorkeeper for that occasion. As most of the decorations and wreaths had been made and hung up by May Maylands and two of her telegraphic friends, there was a pervading influence of woman about Pegaway Hall, in spite of Phil's ungallant and un-Irish vote.

When Tottie Bones arrived at the General Post-Office in search of Peter Pax, she was directed to Pegaway Hall by those members of the staff whose duties prevented their attendance at the commencement of the soiree.

Finding the hall with difficulty, she was met and stopped by the uncompromising and one-eyed stare of Mrs Square.

"Please, ma'am, is Mr Peter Pax here?" asked Tottie.

"Yes, he is, but he's engaged."

Tottie could not doubt the truth of this, for through the half-open door of the hall she saw and heard the little secretary on his little legs addressing the house.

"Please may I wait till he's done?" asked Tottie.

"You may, if you keep quiet, but I doubt if he'll 'ave time to see you even w'en he _is_ done," said the one-eyed one, fiercely.--"D'you like buns or cake best?"

Tottie was much surprised by the question, but stated at once her decided preference for cake.

"Look here," said Mrs Square, removing a towel from a large basket.

Tottie looked, and saw that the basket was three-quarters full of buns and cakes.

"That," said the washer-woman, "is their leavin's. One on 'em called it the debree of the feast, though what that means is best known to hisself. For one hour by the clock these literairies went at it, tooth an' nail, but they failed to get through with all that was purwided, though they stuffed themselves to their muzzles.--There, 'elp yourself."

Tottie selected a moderate slab of the indigestible cake, and sat down on a stool to eat it with as much patience as she could muster in the circ.u.mstances.

Peter Pax's remarks, whatever else they might have been considered, possessed the virtue of brevity. He soon sat down amid much applause, and Mr Sterling rose to speak.

At this point Tottie, who had cast many anxious glances at a small clock which hung in the outer porch or vestibule of the hall, entreated Mrs Square to tell Pax that he was wanted very much indeed.

"I durstn't," said Mrs Square; "it's as much as my sitooation's worth.

I was told by Mr Maylands, the chairman, to allow of no interruptions nor anythink of the kind."

"But please, ma'am," pleaded Tottie, with such an earnest face that the woman was touched, "it's a matter of--of--life an' death--at least it _may_ be so. Oh! do-o-o-o tell 'im he's wanted--by Tottie Bones. Only say Tottie Bones, that'll be _sure_ to bring 'im out."

"Well--I never!" exclaimed Mrs Square, sticking her fists in her waist and leaning her head to one side in critical scrutiny of her small pet.i.tioner. "You do seem c.o.c.k-sure o' your powers. H'm! p'r'aps you're not far out neither. Well, I'll try it on, though it _may_ cost me a deal of abuse. You sit there an' see that cats don't get at the wittles, for the cats in this court are a sharper set than or'nar."

Mrs Square entered the hall, and begged one of the members near the door to pa.s.s up a message--as quietly as possible--to the effect that Mr Pax was wanted.

This was immediately done by the member shouting, irreverently, that the secretary's mother "'ad come to take 'im 'ome."

"Order, order! Put 'im out!" from several of the members.

"Any'ow, 'e's wanted by some one on very partikler business," growled the irreverent member, and the secretary made his way to the door.

"W'y, Tottie!" exclaimed Pax, taking both the child's hands patronisingly in his, "what brings you here?"

With a furtive glance at Mrs Square, Tottie said, "Oh! please, I want to speak about something very partikler."

"Indeed! come out to the court then," said little Pax, leading the way; "you'll be able to air the subject better there, whatever it is, and the cats won't object. Sorry I can't take you into the hall, little 'un, but ladies ain't admitted."

When the child, with eager haste, stated the object of her visit, and wound up her discourse with the earnest remark that her father _must_ be stopped, and _mustn't_ be took, her small counsellor looked as perplexed and anxious as herself. Wrinkling up his smooth brow, he expressed the belief that it was a difficult world to deal with, and he had had some trouble already in finding out how to manage it.

"You see, Tot," he said, "this is a great evenin' with the literary message-boys. Not that I care a rap for that, but I've unfortunately got to move a vote of thanks to our lecturer to-night, and say somethin'

about the lecture, which I couldn't do, you know, unless I remained to hear it. To be sure, I might get some one else to take my place, but I'm not easily spared, for half the fun o' the evenin' would be lost if they hadn't got me to make game of and air their chaff upon. Still, as you say, your dad must have his little game stopped. He must be a great blackg--I beg pardon, Tot, I mean that he must be a great disregarder of the rights of man--woman, as it happens, in this case. However, as you said, with equal truth, he must not be took, for if he was, he'd probably be hanged, and I couldn't bear to think of your father bein'

scragged. Let me see. When did you say he meant to start?"

"He said to mother that he'd leave at nine, and might 'ave to be out all night."

"At nine--eh? That would just give 'im time to get to Charing Cross to catch the 9:30 train. Solomon Flint's lecture will be over about eight.

I could polish 'im off in ten minutes or so, and 'ave plenty of time to catch the same train. Yes, that will do. But how am I to know your father, Tot, for you know I haven't yet had the pleasure of makin' his acquaintance?"

"Oh, you _can't_ mistake him," replied the child confidently. "He's a big, tall, 'andsome man, with a 'ook nose an' a great cut on the bridge of it all down 'is left cheek. You'll be sure to know 'im. But how will you stop 'im?"

"That is more than I can tell at present, my dear," replied Pax, with a careworn look, "but I'll hatch a plot of some sort durin' the lecture.-- Let me see," he added, with sudden animation, glancing at the limited portion of sky that roofed the court, "I might howl 'im down! That's not a bad idea. Yellin' is a powerful influence w'en brought properly to bear. D'you mind waitin' in the porch till the lecture's over?"