Phil, the Fiddler Part 32

Pietro was about to answer angrily, when a thought struck him.

"Will you do something for me?" he asked.

"How much?" inquired the boy, suggestively.

"Five cents," answered Pietro, understanding his meaning.

"It isn't much," said the boy, reflectively. "Tell me what you want."

Though Pietro was not much of a master of English, he contrived to make the boy understand that he was to go round to the back door and tell Mrs. McGuire that he, Pietro, was gone. He intended to hide close by, and when Phil came out, as he hoped, on the strength of his disappearance, he would descend upon him and bear him off triumphantly.

Armed with these instructions, the boy went round to the back door and knocked.

Thinking it might be Phil's enemy, Mrs. McGuire went to the door, holding in one hand a dipper of hot suds, ready to use in case of emergency.

"Well, what do you want?" she asked, abruptly, seeing that it was a boy.

"He's gone," said the boy.

"Who's gone?"

"The man with the hand-organ, ma'am."

"And what for do I care?" demanded Bridget, suspiciously.

This was a question the boy could not answer. In fact, he wondered himself why such a message should have been sent. He could only look at her in silence.

"Who told you to tell the man was gone?" asked Bridget, with a shrewdness worthy of a pract.i.tioner at the bar.

"The Italian told me."

"Did he?" repeated Bridget, who saw into the trick at once. "He's very kind."

"He didn't want you to know he told me," said the boy, remembering his instructions when it was too late.

Mrs. McGuire nodded her head intelligently.

"True for you," said she. "What did he pay you for tellin' me?"

"Five cents."

"Thin it's five cints lost. Do you want to earn another five cints?"

"Yes," said the boy, promptly.

"Thin do what I tell you."

"What is it?"

"Come in and I'll tell you."

The boy having entered, Mrs. McGuire led him to the front door.

"Now," said she, "when I open the door, run as fast as you can. The man that sint you will think it is another boy, and will run after you. Do ye mind?"

The young messenger began to see the joke, and was quite willing to help carry it out. But even the prospective fun did not make him forgetful of his promised recompense.

"Where's the five cents?" he asked.

"Here," said Bridget, and diving into the depths of a capacious pocket, she drew out five pennies.

"That's all right," said the boy. "Now, open the door."

Bridget took care to make a noise in opening the door, and, as it opened, she said in a loud and exultant voice, "You're all safe now; the man's gone."

"Now run," she said, in a lower voice.

The boy dashed out of the doorway, but Mrs. McGuire remained standing there. She was not much surprised to see Pietro run out from the other side of the house, and prepare to chase the runaway. But quickly perceiving that he was mistaken, he checked his steps, and turning, saw Mrs. McGuire with a triumphant smile on her face.

"Why don't you run?" she said. "You can catch him."

"It isn't my brother," he answered, sullenly.

"I thought you was gone," she said.

"I am waiting for my brother."

"Thin you'll have to wait. You wanted to chate me, you haythen! But Bridget McGuire ain't to be took in by such as you. You'd better lave before my man comes home from his work, or he'll give you lave of absence wid a kick."

Without waiting for an answer, Bridget shut the door, and bolted it--leaving her enemy routed at all points.

In fact Pietro began to lose courage. He saw that he had a determined foe to contend with. He had been foiled thus far in every effort to obtain possession of Phil. But the more difficult the enterprise seemed, the more anxious he became to carry it out successfully. He knew that the padrone would not give him a very cordial reception if he returned without Phil, especially as he would be compelled to admit that he had seen him, and had nevertheless failed to secure him. His uncle would not be able to appreciate the obstacles he had encountered, but would consider him in fault. For this reason he did not like to give up the siege, though he saw little hopes of accomplis.h.i.+ng his object. At length, however, he was obliged to raise the siege, but from a cause with which neither Phil nor his defender had anything to do.

The sky, which had till this time been clear, suddenly darkened. In ten minutes rain began to fall in large drops. A sudden shower, unusual at this time of the year, came up, and pedestrians everywhere, caught without umbrellas, fled panic-stricken to the nearest shelter. Twice before, as we know, Pietro had suffered from a shower of warm water.

This, though colder, was even more formidable. Vanquished by the forces of nature, Pietro shouldered his instrument and fled incontinently. Phil might come out now, if he chose. His enemy had deserted his post, and the coast was clear.

"That'll make the haythen lave," thought Mrs. McGuire, who, though sorry to see the rain on account of her was.h.i.+ng, exulted in the fact that Pietro was caught out in it.

She went to the front door and looked out. Looking up the street, she just caught a glimpse of the organ in rapid retreat. She now unbolted the door, the danger being at an end, and went up to acquaint Phil with the good news.

"You may come down now," she said.

"Is he gone?" inquired Phil.

"Shure he's runnin' up the street as fast as his legs can carry him."

"Thank you for saving me from him," said, Phil, with a great sense of relief at the flight of his enemy.

"Whisht now; I don't nade any thanks. Come down by the fire now."