Jack the Hunchback: A Story of Adventure on the Coast of Maine

"Indeed I wasn't so foolish as to do anything of the kind; but when I have work on hand I like to be about it, and goodness knows there's plenty for me to do between now and to-morrow night."

"Did you wake Louis?"

"No; let him sleep as long as he chooses. You can dress and give him some bread and milk?"

"That part of it will be all right," Jack replied confidently, and then he prepared to astonish old crumple-horn by appearing before her while it was yet so dark that she could hardly see the lunch of clover to which she was accustomed during milking time.

Breakfast had been cooked, eaten, and the dishes washed before Mr. Daniel Chick and his venerable horse came up the lane.

Aunt Nancy was not only ready for the journey, but had begun to grow impatient because of the delay, when he reined up in front of the broad stone step as he said in a cheery tone, calculated to soothe any angry feelings, —

"Well, I must say you're a master hand at gettin' up, Aunt Nancy. 'Pears like as if you was allers on foot like a sparrer."

"I try to do what I have on hand in good season," was the rather sharp reply. "There would be less poor folks in this world if people didn't dally round in such a shiftless manner."

Mr. Chick knew full well that this remark was aimed especially at him; but like a wise man he made no reply lest worse should follow, and turned the wheels of the wagon that the little woman might have no trouble in clambering on board.

Aunt Nancy stopped only long enough to give some parting advice to Jack.

"Be sure to keep a sharp watch on the road if you have the doors open," she whispered, "and don't go out, even into the yard, unless it is absolutely necessary, for nobody knows what may happen. When you wash the best dishes be careful, Jack dear, for I should feel very badly in case any were broken."

"I'll attend to it in great shape, Aunt Nancy."

"Don't give Louis too much milk at a time, the weather is so hot that it might curdle on his stomach; and if I don't succeed in getting home until afternoon, there is some cold meat and cake on the hanging shelf in the cellar. Don't go without a lunch; it is very unhealthy to work while you are hungry."

"Who's dallying now, Aunt Nancy?" Mr. Chick cried as he tried to prevent his horse from nibbling at the honeysuckle-bush.

"If you had come as you agreed I should have had plenty of time to attend to matters," was the sharp reply; and then with many injunctions for him to keep a firm hold on the reins, the little woman succeeded in gaining the rather shaky seat.

"Take good care of Louis!" she cried as the horse ambled slowly down the lane; and Jack re-entered the house feeling decidedly lonely at the prospect of being without Aunt Nancy for several hours.

In order to occupy his mind he set about the work laid out, and was so industrious that before the baby made known the fact of being awake, the knives and forks had been cleaned.

Fully an hour was spent dressing and feeding Louis, after which he was allowed to play on the kitchen floor while his crooked guardian washed the "best dishes."

This was a task which required considerable time, and at eleven o'clock it was hardly more than half finished.

Then again Louis wanted milk, and when it had been given him he insisted upon being allowed to go out on the doorstep.

At first Jack was disposed to keep him in the house; but when he became fretful, gave him his own way, as he said half to himself, —

"I don't s'pose there can be any harm in lettin' you stay here; but if anything should happen, Aunt Nancy would think I had been careless."

After that he kept a strict watch over the baby, going to the door every few moments, and on each occasion finding Louis playing contentedly with a string of buttons the little woman had prepared for him.

The fact that he showed no disposition to leave the broad stone caused Jack to have less care than usual, and this, coupled with the idea of cleaning the most elaborate dishes, rendered him oblivious to the flight of time.

He was brought to a realization of what was passing around by hearing the rumble of a carriage in the lane, and almost before he could reach the door, Aunt Nancy was in the house, while Mr. Chick had driven away at the full speed of his very slow horse.

"Did you get along all right, Jack dear?" the little woman asked, as she deposited an armful of bundles on the table.

"Yes, indeed. You see there has been plenty of work, and it doesn't seem any time since you left."

"Where is the baby?"

"On the doorstep. He fussed to go out, an' I thought the fresh air wouldn't do him any harm."

"Which doorstep?"

"Why here, of course"; and Jack stepped forward only to give vent to a cry of alarm an instant later. "He isn't here at all! Where do you suppose he could have gone?"

Aunt Nancy was at the door before he ceased speaking, and gazed up and down the yard in bewilderment, but without seeing any signs of the missing baby.

For an instant the two stood gazing at each other in perplexity, and then Aunt Nancy asked sharply, —

"How long since you saw him?"

"It didn't seem many minutes before you came; but I s'pose it must have been, else he'd be 'round here now."

"Run up to the barn and see if he is there!"

As she spoke the little woman went down the lane, returning just as Jack came back.

"He isn't there," the latter said.

"Nor on the road. Of course he must be somewhere near, for children can't disappear entirely in such a mysterious fashion. Go up the lane and I'll look back of the barn."

"But then we shall be leaving the barn alone You stay here an' I'll do the searchin'."

"It wouldn't make any difference if we left the house wide open for a month, I couldn't stand still while that dear little baby is wandering around nobody knows where."

Jack understood that it would be useless to remonstrate, and started off at full speed.

Up to the entire length of the lane he ran without finding that for which he sought, and then back to the house where he was met by Aunt Nancy on whose wrinkled face was written fear and anguish.

She did not wait for him to tell her that the search had been in vain, but cried, —

"Go up through the field from the shed. There is a place where he might have gotten through the fence, and it would lead directly to the duck pond if he kept on in a straight line!"

There was a tone in her voice which told of the fear she had regarding the possible ending of his adventures; and Jack, with a mental prayer that he would find the little fellow before it was too late, ran across the enclosure, Aunt Nancy going in the same direction, but at a slight angle.

The little woman's anxiety gave fleetness to her feet, and she travelled even faster than Jack could.

Both called loudly from time to time, but without receiving any answer, and Jack's heart grew heavy as he thought of what might have happened while he was in the house all unconscious of impending trouble.

As the two neared the pond the figure of a boy could be distinguished among the foliage of alders running at full speed toward the main road, and Jack shouted to Aunt Nancy, —

"There goes one of Bill Dean's gang. They know where Louis is."