Jessica, the Heiress

“Ain’t my old staffs, ain’t,” sobbed the “echo,” for such he was often nicknamed.

“Then you needn’t cry, you needn’t. I ain’t crying, I ain’t. Hate old Aunt Sally. Hate ’Tonio. Hate Ferd. Hate everybody. Give me my breakfast, old Aunt Sally Benton!”

“Hate Bentons!” agreed Luis, and flung his arms about his little tyrant’s throat till he choked from outward expression whatever more might have issued thence.

“Ned! Why, Ned! I never, never knew you so naughty! Do tell me; what has happened?”

Mrs. Benton glared at the culprit over her down-dropped spectacles in a truly formidable manner, but the result was only a settled stubbornness which nothing moved.

Seeing that pleading was hopeless, at present, and that Ned was in one of his dogged fits, Jessica quietly walked away and began to help in the preparation of the elder people’s meal, as her mother liked to have her do.

Meanwhile, Aunt Sally waited upon the children, piling their saucers with the tasty porridge, moistened with Blandina’s yellow cream and plentifully sprinkled with sugar. They were healthy and unused to grief, and the palatable food soon restored their good humor. They seemed to forgive their venerable tormentor and fell to their accustomed scrimmage with the utmost enjoyment; and this was pleasanter for all concerned. However, even when they had eaten all they could and were ready for outdoors and their morning fun, their plans were nipped in the bud. Aunt Sally had a spare hand for each of them and conducted them firmly to the dining room and a place upon its lounge, while the family took their own food in what comfort they could.

This was not so great Mrs. Trent’s eyes would wander to the unhappy pair–for they were once more gloomy and unsubdued–and old Ephraim cast many glances thither, entreating by silent signals that they should repent of whatever sin they had committed and be restored to favor.

The meal past the family rose and, from her pocket, Mrs. Benton produced two long strips of cloth, one of which she fastened about each child’s wrist, leaving its other end to tie to her own apron belt.

Then she turned to the mother, whose tears were beginning to fall, and said, severely:

“Gabriella, if I didn’t love you as well as I love myself and better, I’d let these children go and no more said. But they’ve done that no punishin’ won’t reach, though maybe they’ll give in after a spell. I shan’t hurt ’em nor touch to; but I shall keep ’em tied to me till they tell me what I’m bound to know. So that’s all. You’ve got enough on your hands, with this funeral business and all that’ll come, and however we’re goin’ to feed another lot of visitors so soon after them others, I declare I don’t see. And me with these tackers tied to my apron strings, the way they be!”

Mrs. Trent rose and left the room and Jessica slowly followed. Neither of them could quite understand Aunt Sally’s present behavior, nor why she should wish to bother herself with two such hindrances to the labor which must be accomplished.

But Ephraim lingered. He simply could not endure the sight of the little ones’ unhappiness, and quietly slipping a knife from his pocket he coolly cut their leading strings, caught them up in his strong arms and limped away before their captor had discovered her loss.

But he put his head back inside the doorway to call out, reassuringly:

“Begging pardon, Mrs. Benton, I’ll ‘spell’ you on the ‘worming out’ business and promise they shan’t leave my care till I hand ’em back to you thoroughly ‘pumped.’ Come along, laddies. I’ve a mind to visit every spot on this blessed ranch and–upon one condition–I’ve a mind to take you with me. Want to hear?”

“Yes. What is it?” demanded Ned, already very happy at the exchange of jailers.

“Only that you must explain what all this row and rumpus is about with Aunt Sally.”

Standing at the top of the steps, with one foot outstretched, old “Forty-niner” paused and steadily regarded the small face above his shoulder.

Ned returned the gaze with equal steadfastness, as if he were pondering in his troubled mind the best course to pursue. Then, because he might think more clearly so, he lifted his serious gaze to the distance; and, at once, there burst from his quivering lips a cry of fear:

“Oh, I see him! I see him! He’s coming, like he said–to kill me–to kill me! I dassent–I dassent!”

CHAPTER XIII.

NED’S STORY

“Eels couldn’t have done that slicker!” commented Ephraim, in surprise. For, behold! his arms were empty and the flash of twinkling legs along the garden path pointed whither his charges had fled. “Here they were and here they aren’t, and whatever scared them that way is more than I can see.”

Indeed, though he shaded his eyes with his hand and made a prolonged examination of the outlook, nothing different from ordinary was visible; and, after a moment’s reflection, he sought Aunt Sally and reported:

“Well, Mrs. Benton, I ’low I’m doomed to that dose of picra, for I–I– You see–”

“Ephraim Ma’sh, where’s them children?”

“That’s just exactly what I’d like to know myself, neighbor.”

“Huh! You needn’t go ‘neighborin’’ me, if that’s all you’re worth. Tryin’ fool capers like a boy, ain’t you? Think it was terr’ble clever to cut strings that I’d took the trouble to tie and then settin’ them youngsters free. Well, all I have to say is that you’ve done more harm than you can undo in a hurry, and that’s the true word,” retorted the indignant matron, beating a bowlful of eggs as she would have enjoyed beating him just then.

Ephraim crossed the kitchen and laid one hand on her shoulder, saying:

“Come, Sally, let’s quit chasing about the bush. There’s something more in this nonsense than appears, and if you’re a true and loyal friend to this family I’m another as good. Two heads are better than one, you know–”

“Even if one belongs to a silly old feller like you? H’m Ephraim, you’re right! There is somethin’ more’n shows outside. That candy was a bait, a trap, a lure, a–anything you choose; and I do hope the little fellers are safer’n I fear they be. If I catch ’em again, for their good–My suz! Here they’re comin’ back of their own free will and wonder ain’t ceased!”

Indeed, as swiftly as they had scampered away, the lads were returning and burst into the kitchen, crying with what little breath they had left:

“Aunt Sally, lock me up! Lock us up tight! Quick–quick! I seen him! He’ll do it! My mother says Antonio always does do things, he does! Quick, quick!”

“Lock up, quick!”

Ned and the echo swung round behind the matron’s capacious person and rolled themselves in the folds of her full skirt, which performance hid them from the view of anyone outside and as effectually interfered with her movements.

But she had now caught something of their excitement, and their appeal to her protection had promptly banished her last trace of anger against them.

“So I will, lambies, so I will. You just keep on a steppin’ backwards and I’ll do it, too, and first we know we’ll get to that nice pantry where we stayed last night. I’ve got the key to that, even if ’tis rusty from not bein’ often used, and I’ll defy anybody to get it away from me.”

Still beating her eggs as if nothing uncommon were happening, the housewife retreated toward the door in question, and slipping one hand behind her opened it without turning her head. She was instantly relieved of the drag upon her skirts, and quietly shut the door again upon her self-imprisoned charges. Then she drew a long breath, and exclaimed:

“Well, sharpshooter, what do you think of that?”

“Looks as if you couldn’t have been so very hard on them, else they’d never come back.”

“I ain’t a-flatterin’ myself. That was a ‘Hobson’s choice.’ But–”

“But they must have been badly frightened to have done it.”

“Yes, Ephraim, they are, and I am. I’m so stirred up I don’t know whether I’ve beat these eggs all one way, like I ought, or forty-’leven different ones, like I ought not. I’m flustered. I’m completely flustered, and that ain’t often my case.”

“Picra!” sympathetically suggested the old man.

Aunt Sally’s eyes snapped, and she smiled grimly, as she retorted:

“Picra’s good for them ’at need it. That’s you, not me. It ain’t a medicine for in’ards so much as ’tis for out’ards. I mean, it’s better for the body than ’tis for the mind, and it’s my mind that’s ailin’ me! Besides, doctors never take their own doses.”

“You know it yourself! I thought your mind was failing you, but–”

“No such thing. I said, or I meant to say, I was troubled in it. That’s all; and if you’re a mite of a man you’ll try and help me unravel this tangle and quit foolin’. Just step into that closet with me and maybe the tackers’ll tell you themselves. I’d rather you heard it first hand, anyway.”

Wun Lung, sifting flour in one part of the kitchen, and Pasqual scrubbing a kneading board at the sink, both paused and eyed the strange proceedings with curiosity if not displeasure; for not only had the children been bestowed within the “cold closet,” but Aunt Sally and Ephraim had, also, followed and locked themselves out of sight and hearing.

The pantry was absolutely dark, until Mrs. Benton found a candle and lighted it; then she pointed to the chair she had occupied during the night, mutely inviting “Forty-niner” to be seated. He declined the proffered courtesy, so she sat down herself, and it amused him that she had not once stopped that monotonous whisking of the eggs, though by this time the dish was heaped with their frothy substance.