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

"I'll leave here to-morrow mornin', an' by night be there."

"Bless your heart, child, I would never think of letting you walk that long distance. If we should make up our minds that it was best to go, and I wish I could have the strength to say it, you'd ride in the cars."

"Why not decide now?"

"Because, Jack dear, it nearly breaks my heart to think there is a possibility of being obliged to give you up."

"Well, s'posen we go home an' talk the thing over some other time," Jack said with an assumption of cheerfulness which was far from natural.

He had suddenly conceived a plan by which the little woman could be relieved without the pain of deciding that it should be so, and there was no more than sufficient time to put it into execution.

Aunt Nancy walked back to the house in a meditative mood, Jack talking about the cow and kindred topics to prevent her mind from dwelling upon the dreaded subject.

He at once set about doing the chores in an unusually careful manner when they arrived home.

A large quantity of wood was brought into the kitchen, an extra amount of water drawn, and the cow given a generous lunch of clover after she had been driven into the stable.

"Why do you do so much unnecessary work, Jack dear?" Aunt Nancy asked. "There will be nothing left for morning, and it is bad to have 'idle hands.'"

"I may as well fix everything now, for you know what you said about puttin' off till to-morrow. Say, Aunt Nancy, would you lend me a lead pencil an' a piece of paper?"

"Of course, my child. Are you going to write a letter?"

"Yes, Aunt Nancy, an' you shall see it in the mornin'."

"Better sit down at the kitchen table. If writing is as much of a task for you as it is for me, you'll need every possible convenience."

"I had rather do it in my room, for you see I don't know very much about such things, an' it'll come mighty hard, but you won't care if it don't look very nice, will you?"

"Certainly not, my child. It could only annoy me because I have not taken advantage of our leisure time to teach you the little I know."

"You are always blamin' yourself, Aunt Nancy, an' I don't like to hear it. I wouldn't let anybody else talk that way about you."

For reply the little woman patted the boy on the cheek, and then proposed the nightly search for burglars be made.

After the evening devotions Aunt Nancy gave Jack the articles he had asked for, and was considerably surprised by the warmth of the boy's good-night salute.

Once in his room, Jack set about what was for him a formidable task, and it was late before he completed the following: —

"DEAR AUNT NANCY I AM GOIN TO SEA THE FARMER & TELL HIM YOU R SORRY IF I DONT COME BACK U WILL NO WHERE I AM BUT DONT FEL BAD FOUR I LUV U. I CARNT STOP TO MILK

    "JACK DUDLEY URE JACK DEAR."

When this had been done Jack looked around the little room as if taking leave of all it contained, wiped a suspicious moisture from his eyes, and then dressed, but with his shoes in his hands, crept softly down the stairs.

The ticking of the clock sounded strangely loud and unnatural; the silence, save for this clicking noise, was oppressive, and he felt as if he was about to commit some crime against the woman who had befriended him.

"It's got to be done, an' I mustn't stand here worryin' about it, or I might back out," he said to himself.

It was necessary he should think of Aunt Nancy's self accusations and sorrow before he could nerve himself to raise the window.

He took this method of departing rather than by the door, for he feared the little woman would be alarmed on learning she had remained in the house a portion of the night without every place of egress being securely fastened.

Once outside he gazed around several moments, taking in all the details of the place where he had spent so many pleasant days, and then, putting on his shoes, he started up the lane with a heart so heavy it seemed a positive burden.

The moon shone faintly through the clouds; the night wind murmured mournfully among the trees, and before him could dimly be seen the road he believed led him to the paupers' home by way of Mr. Pratt's house.

Chapter XXI

STARTLING INFORMATION

Realizing that he had a long walk before him, Jack continued on at a steady pace keeping ever in mind the good he hoped to accomplish.

He did not dare dwell upon the possible ending to the journey lest he should grow faint-hearted, but tried to persuade himself there would be some way by which he might escape the threatened ignominy.

By starting at midnight, he expected to arrive at Scarborough early in the day, and then, in case Farmer Pratt did not attempt to detain him, it would be possible to return to the farm before sunset.

It was not believed he would meet any travellers at that hour, and the loneliness, when the shadows danced to and fro athwart the road like fairy-land monsters, was so great as to make him repent ever having attempted the undertaking.

As the curtain of night was slowly removed, and the heralds of the coming morn appeared in the sky, his drooping spirits revived.

He listened with interest to the sounds which proclaimed that day was awakening. The birds in their leafy homes began to discuss the propriety of going out in search of the "early worm." The frogs from the watery dwellings called to their children that it was time to be up and doing unless they wanted to remain tadpoles forever, and the wind which came "out of the sea" whispered: Awake! it is the day.

The leaves bowed and courtesied, the waving grasses bent yet lower their heads, the flowers brought out their sweetest perfumes, and all nature was quivering with excitement because the kindly sun was about to show himself once more.

Then as the first golden rays of light shot across the sky and the birds burst forth into song, Jack felt a certain sense of relief. The words which he had heard Aunt Nancy speak so often came to his mind, and he repeated over and over again, understanding the meaning better than ever before, —

"He doeth all things well."

It was but a little past eight o'clock when he turned the corner which led to Farmer Pratt's house, and the first person he saw was none other than Master Tom.

"Hello! Where'd you come from?" that young gentleman cried in surprise.

"Down the road a bit."

"Why didn't you git back before? Father's been lookin' almost everywhere for you an' the baby."

"Is he still huntin'?"

"No, he gave it up as a bad job a good while ago, for there's no chance of gettin' the reward now."

"The reward?" Jack asked in surprise.

"Yes; you see the baby's mother went away from Portland, an' father don't allow there's anybody in town who cares very much about it after so long a time."

"Louis' mother in Portland?" Jack cried, rapidly growing bewildered.

"Of course; father went in to see her after he made up his mind you'd gone away; but she wasn't there, so he said it would pay him better to 'tend to the farm instead of runnin' 'round after you fellers."