Uncle Rutherford's Nieces Part 19

Theodore saw him coming, and his guilty conscience leaped to the truth; Johnny suspected something wrong, and was coming to accuse him.

Closing his hand tightly on the prize which he had just received from his victim, he turned, and started to run. But an avenging Nemesis, in the shape of a piece of orange-peel, was behind him; his foot slipped upon it, and he came heavily to the ground. Before he could rise, the florist precipitated himself upon him with so much momentum, that he too lost his balance, and fell flat upon the boy. Not one whit disturbed was Johnny, however, by the fear that he might have injured his prisoner, although he had half knocked the breath from the boy's body; on the contrary, he would, I think, have been quite pleased to know that Theodore was seriously bruised.

Rising with some difficulty, and not without a.s.sistance from a pa.s.ser-by who had seen the catastrophe, puffing and panting, but still retaining the hold he had taken of Theodore's collar, he hauled the boy to his feet, and, regardless of the punishment he had already inflicted, gave him a hard cuff upon the ear, saying,--

"You runs away from me, will you? I learns you, my poy, you shtays ven I vants to shpeak mit you."

Supposing from this authoritative address that he was the father of the boy who had been guilty of some wrong, the man who had helped him pa.s.sed on his way, leaving him to deal with the culprit as he saw fit.

And Johnny saw fit to handle him with any thing but gentleness, pus.h.i.+ng him before him across the street, and into the shop, giving him now and then a vicious shake, diversifying this with an occasional punch in the back with the fist of the disengaged hand. Had they had any distance to go, they would probably have drawn a crowd after them; as it was, they reached Johnny's quarters without attracting any special attention.

"Now," said the breathless florist when he had his captive safely within the shelter of the shop, "now, vat is your pusiness mit Tony?

Tony is my scharge, an' I don' let him talks mit poys what shteals what don' pelongs to dem. Vat you got here?"

And he seized the tightly closed hand containing the five dollars, which Theodore had not yet found opportunity to conceal in a safer place. Theodore resisted; but he was no match for Petersen, who tripped him up again without compunction, and, regardless of consequences to the surrounding plants,--which happily came to no harm in the struggle,--sat upon him, and opened his hand with both his own.

Five dollars!

Johnny was not a particularly brilliant Dutchman, and his mind was generally slow in arriving at any conclusion; but the two and two which were to be put together here were not difficult to compute; and as he looked from the five-dollar bill to Matty's shorn head, and back again, he was not long in deciding that they made four. Matty for once showed some sign of emotion as she sat rubbing her hand over her poor little head in a nervous manner; although beyond this, and the stare with which she regarded the combatants, she showed no trace of interest in the affair, never once opening her lips.

"So!" said the florist, holding out the bill at arm's length,--"so! How is dis? You put Matty's head to de schissors, an' take him all off, und you shteal den her monish. De peanuts is a pad pisness; but dis is so much vorse as it goes to de prison. Tell me, Tony, how is dis?"

"I didn't steal it, he gave it to me; and I didn't touch Matty's hair,"

panted the prostrate Theodore. "He--he--he wanted me to do something for him, and he said he would give me that if I did it. Oh! let me up!"

"Hole your mout, and shpeak ven you is shpoken mit," said Johnny.

"Tony, shpeak an' tell me. How vas it? You is cut off Matty's head; you is got de monish, five tollars, vat I tells you he is vort; now tell me what for you gifs dis five tollars to dis pad poy, a poy so vorse as I do not know. I _vill_ haf you tell me; if no, I calls de police."

There was no escape; on all hands Tony saw visions of the police, who would soon ferret out the whole matter, away back to Miss Amy and Jim (so Tony thought); and he found it best to throw himself and all concerned on the mercy of his old friend, and make a full confession.

As he told the shameful story of how Theodore had threatened to tell Jim's "secret," and to let the police know of the "poisoning" unless somebody paid him five dollars to keep it quiet; of the confirmation he had himself received from Jim's manner and words when he asked him about it; of how he and Matty had resolved to save their friends by the sacrifice of the hair which Johnny himself had often told them was worth so much money; of how they had gone to the barber's, and sold the hair; and lastly, how he, seeing Theodore on the opposite side of the street, had hurried over to bribe him with the five dollars to hold his peace, and how Theodore had accepted the price,--the kind-hearted florist waxed more and more angry; and when he rose, and once more hauled the boy to his feet, it was only to seize a cane, and administer such a chastis.e.m.e.nt as the culprit had seldom or never received.

Theodore made little or no outcry, however, for he was afraid of attracting attention from without, and perhaps himself falling into the hands of the law; for he did not know, if his deeds were once made public, how far he might be under the ban of that authority.

"Now you go," said Johnny, when at last he paused, breathless from all his exertions, and with one final shake released his captive; "go und tell de gran'fader I fin' vat is de matter out, und I gifs de vorst vips as I could gif to de vorst poy in all de down, und so I safes him some droubles. But if he d.i.n.ks to gif you some more of de same veesic, I d.i.n.k it not too moosh. For dat gran'fader, I says notings to de police for dis time; bud if you says one leetle more vord apout de young lady or dat goot poy Jim, or makes afrait any more dese schillens, den you see some dings to make you shtare. Go, go!"

And Theodore stood not upon the order of his going.

The pleasure of the day with our friends had been much marred for me by the recollection of the shorn head of my forlorn little _protegee_ and the repulsive appearance she now presented; and I was more than ever anxious to remove her from the father and mother, who, I thought, had treated her so unjustly and cruelly; and I could not reconcile myself to the idea that this afforded no grounds for my taking them away.

But that difficulty was presently to be solved in the most satisfactory way to those who had at heart the welfare of the crippled children.

Mother had occasion to send Jim upon an errand shortly after his return from school that afternoon; and he found it convenient, according to his usual custom, to return by a roundabout way, and stop at the peanut-stand. The excitement in Johnny's small establishment had hardly subsided when he made his appearance, and it was little wonder that he tarried long on his errand; so long, indeed, that mother rather lost patience, and said that she should forbid his stopping at his favorite haunt, except by express permission, if this occurred again. But his want of punctuality was quite forgiven when he came in with the tidings which he bore.

As usual, however, when any question arose of Theodore's want of principle, or any instance of it was shown, there was something in Jim's manner which excited the attention of those of the household under whose immediate observation he most came; and again Milly was surprised to see how wistful, uneasy, and absolutely nervous he was, appearing, as he often had before, as if there were something on his mind which he wished to tell her, but which he could not muster courage to confess.

CHAPTER XIII.

MATTY IS PROVIDED FOR.

"Of course," said Uncle Rutherford, that evening in family conclave, "this business settles the question of that scholars.h.i.+p for Theodore Yorke. He has proved himself more utterly without principle or common honesty, than I could have believed possible; and while, for poor old Yorke's sake, I should be glad to give him another chance of redeeming his character, I do not feel that the boy himself is worthy of it. He is radically bad and vicious, with a natural leaning toward deceit and dishonesty, and a capacity for crime that is absolutely startling, or he never could have arranged so deliberate a plan to obtain money from these poor little cripples. It was absolute blackmailing; and the Yorkes, I fear, have sad trouble in store for them with the boy. All the better for your _protege_, Milly, if he continues to do as well as he has done lately. That fellow is in earnest, whatever may be the aims and influences which control him."

"I think," said aunt Emily, "that Mrs. Yorke is right, and that it would be best both for the captain and for Theodore to go home. The old man keeps her in a constant worry, by his very innocence and simplicity, which are so easily imposed upon; and it will be far better for that boy to be where he is not surrounded by so many temptations.

Do you not think so, Nicholas? Better for him to be in his quiet, out-of-the-way home, than here, where there are so many inducements to evil for a boy without principle, such as has certainly proved himself."

Before Uncle Rutherford had time either to agree or dissent, Thomas announced that Captain Yorke wished to see Mr. Rutherford and Mr.

Livingstone, and was told to show the old man into the adjoining library, whither papa and Uncle Rutherford adjourned to see him.

But through the half-drawn portieres, the rest of us heard all that pa.s.sed; and, indeed, the captain was not reticent,--it was not in his nature to be,--and he would have been quite as garrulous in the presence of an audience of any size, provided he knew all his hearers to be friends. And not even the gravity of his errand, or the subject on which he held forth, could restrain him from the various deviations and wanderings to which he was p.r.o.ne when talking. It will not be necessary to repeat all these here.

The old man had gone back to Johnny Petersen's just as the florist was closing his shop for the night, timing his second visit after the hour at which he knew the cripples would have left, and asked Johnny if he had any further information for him. Johnny was not inclined to talk, he found, and tried to evade his questions; but he was obliged to allow that Theodore had appeared again; and finally, so determined was the captain, that he asked him to come with him to his home, where he would tell him all.

Seated in Mrs. Petersen's cosey room, the poor old seaman heard the story in all its details, half bewildered by the good Dutchman's broken English, but fully able to extract from it all the painful and shameful particulars of his grandson's rascality. Once launched into his narration, Johnny spared nothing, and, at the end, rather glorified himself for having taken matters into his own hands, and administered condign punishment to the culprit upon the spot; nor did he deem it necessary to apologize to the grandfather for having done so, neither did Captain Yorke seem to expect this, or to think that he was not perfectly justified in all that he had done.

Theodore had gone home, after his encounter with Johnny, evidently suffering and much crestfallen; but when his grandfather had questioned him, he had added to his sins, and accounted for this, by saying that he had had a fight in school; he being quite unaware of the captain's suspicions, and of his interviews with Tony and the florist in the morning. His grandfather had not yet confronted him with the discovery of his sin; for he had come directly from the Petersens to our house, deeming it best to take counsel with those whom he considered wiser and less interested than himself.

"I thought I had done with all sich work when I heered Tom was took,"

said the old man pathetically; "but here it's broke out agin, an' me an' Mis' Yorke not so young as we was by a long shot, an' can't stan'

it so well. The Scriptur says, 'Like father, like son;' an' I've faith to b'lieve it, seein' I'm provin' it in my own fam'ly."

"No, no, captain," said uncle Rutherford, holding out his hand kindly to the veteran, "you must not say that, for if Tom had been like _his_ father, he would have been a man in whom all who knew him placed confidence. And"--contradicting his own words spoken some time since--"we will not despair of your grandson yet. He is young, and under good influences now."

"It's all the wus, Gov'nor," said the captain, shaking his head, "all the wus to see him so young and so wicked. The Scriptur' says, 'The ways of transgressors is hard;' but I b'lieve the ways of them what has to do with the transgressors, an' foller them up, is harder, an' them's my opinions."

Father and uncle Rutherford each offered a few words of sympathy, and endeavored to comfort him; but he was not yet to be consoled, and could see no hope for the future. He was terribly distressed over the necessity of telling Mrs. Yorke, and said that he meant to "sleep over it," and think of the best way of breaking it to her. But we all knew how much probability there was of that. No sooner would he see his wife, than his full heart would overleap all restraint he might have intended to put upon it, and she would be put in possession of all the facts, down to the smallest details.

In the midst of his own perplexities, however, the captain did not forget a piece of news he had brought with him, and which especially interested me, and speedily drew me into the library.

While he was still with the Petersens, but on the point of taking his leave, the sound of crutches had been heard on the stairs; and Johnny, turning to listen, said,--

"Dems is Tony mit his crushes. Vat is upper now?" and opened the door to admit not only Tony, but also his sister. Tony was fl.u.s.tered and frightened, with eyes half starting from his head; but Matty was impa.s.sive as usual, and showed neither terror nor excitement.

"They've gone!" exclaimed the lame boy.

"Who are gone? Vat is de madder?" asked Johnny; then added, before Tony could answer, "Poor leetle poy, he is all upside down mit dis day.

Shpeak, Tony."

"They've gone," repeated Tony; "an' what is wus, the furnitur' is gone too, an' there ain't no beds nor nuthin'."

"Vat is gone?" asked Mrs. Petersen in her turn; then, jumping at her own conclusions, added, "De vater an' de mutter?"

"Yes, and good riddance, too; on'y we ain't got any place to sleep,"

said Tony; which filial sentiment found an echo in the hearts of all present.

It was all true, as Johnny found on investigation. When Tony and Matty had gone home that evening, they found the wretched room on the top floor of a tenement-house, which they had inhabited with their father and mother, empty and tenantless; the few articles of worthless furniture (if furniture it could be called) which it had formerly held, taken away. But if there was no one there to welcome them, neither did there await them the abusive language and hard blows they too frequently encountered. They were not in the slightest degree troubled by the loss; their only feeling seemed to be, as Tony expressed it, that it was a "good riddance," save that they had no other resting-place for the night. A pitying neighbor had given them their supper; and they were told that their mother had gone out early in the morning, soon after they had gone to business, and, re-appearing with a carter, had had her few possessions carried away, leaving no word whither she was bound, or message for the helpless children. The mystery was solved in a degree, when two police-officers appeared a few hours later, saying that Blair was "wanted" for a grave offence against the law; but the bird had flown, and so far left no trace.